Disclaimer: Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've been busy with exams…and for the past few days I haven't been feeling well. I own nothing, absolutely nothing. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

The brunette slept uneasily, shifting every few minutes as if trying to find a more comfortable position. She would moan and groan, pushing the covers back and pulling them over her. It seemed no matter what she did, the young woman simply could not find rest. In her search for peace, her hand brushed lightly against a bottle of pills that rested on the dresser table. One could just barely make out the writing on the side, illuminated by the pale moonlight spilling through the window.

Hypnocil.

Most wouldn't understand why anyone would want a dreamless sleep. Dreams are the main reason that some people close their eyes every night, hoping to be transported to a better world, at least for a few hours. But for this young woman, dreams were far worse than reality. Far, far, worse.

The woman's eyes opened wearily, and it was apparent that she had lost the battle with fickle sleep. Yawning, she sat up in bed, running her hands through her curly hair. A single strand of grey fell into her eyes, a strange thing for one as young as she to bear. Yet this woman was far from ordinary, and to a select few, the grey streak suited her. It was like a battle scar that a knight might proudly bear, a remembrance of a fearsome foe defeated.

This woman was a knight, a warrior, but far from the stereotypical shining armor image that was considered typical. Her name was Nancy Thompson, aged twenty-one, and she had been through more in five years than most experienced in a lifetime.

Nancy pushed herself out of bed, still yawning, blinking the drowsiness out of her eyes. Shuffling to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and collapsed on the couch, hoping that something halfway decent was on television at 3 in the morning.

"No, I'm not interested in calling and talking to hot girls…" she muttered to herself darkly as she flipped through the channels, her patience growing thinner and thinner with each ad featuring scantily clad girls with blank eyes. "This is just great. No sleep, nothing on TV…" She flicked off the television and lay back, resting a hand against her forehead. She hadn't had a proper sleep in longer than she could remember. There were no nightmares anymore… but that didn't stop the memories from trying to push their way through, after she'd fought so hard to bury them

Br-r-ring! B-r-ring!

The sound of the phone startled Nancy, and she nearly fell of the couch. "Jesus… its 3 am. Who the hell…" she stopped, suddenly realizing who it must be. Dismay blossomed in her stomach, yet she still found herself reaching for the phone, bringing it to her ear and holding her breath.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, and she could hear muffled voices and music in the background. "Nancy?"

Ohhhhhhhh. "Hi, Daddy." She closed her eyes, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Hey, baby." Her father's voice was rough, his words slurred. Drunk, as usual. She sighed inwardly. Why do I give him my number?

Nancy knew why. Because he was her father, and despite everything else, she loved him, and couldn't bear the thought of him being in trouble one night and having no one to call… even dying on the cold pavement, his tears and blood mingling beside him. She wanted him to be able to call her.

"It's late, Daddy. Really late. Are you at home?" She knew he wasn't.

Another pause. "It's too empty in there, Nancy. I wish you'd come and live with me."

Nancy swallowed heavily. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to go my own way now, but that doesn't mean you can't visit me once in a while, or call more often…" She trailed off uneasily, knowing that she would never go visit him, mainly because she didn't want to see his current living conditions.

"You could come see me, Nancy." Donald Thompson sounded hurt now. "Ashamed of your father?"

"No, Daddy, of course I'm not." She glanced at the clock. "Look, it's late. You should go home and get some sleep."

Her father sighed heavily. "Goodbye, baby. Come visit sometime, okay?"

"Daddy-"

But it was too late. Her father hung up the phone, and Nancy kept it by her ear, the loud dial tone seemingly mocking her. Tears trickled down her cheeks, tasting salty on her lips. "Godamnit, Daddy, why do you keep doing this? Why do I even let you?"

She slammed down the phone, her hands shaking. Every time she thought she was okay, that she had finally left the past behind her… her father would call, and everything in her life would be thrown upside-down all over again.

Nancy glanced at the clock again. Oh, lovely, she had a class at 8. Recently her grades had started slipping because of sleep deprivation, and she couldn't hope to get a placement in a decent psychiatric hospital unless she kept her marks high. More than anything, Nancy wanted to help kids who went through what she did. She knew the terror of falling asleep, the desperate attempts to stay awake, all the while knowing that you couldn't fight it forever…

Sighing, she figured she might as well work on her thesis while she was awake. She flicked on the coffee machine, sitting in the swivel chair and booting up her computer. "A ten-page paper on sleep disorders… what could be more fun?" Yawning, she tapped her fingers absently against the keyboard.

"Nancy…."

She jumped, startled, and looked over her shoulder. "Did I just hear that?"

"Nancy."

"Oh hell, I think I did." Swallowing heavily, she stood from the chair. I'm not asleep, I'm not, and even if I am… the Hypnocil keeps the dreams away. So I can't be asleep. Then who is it? Oh, Lord, is it Daddy?

The voice was low, a whisper, and it seemed to be coming from her bedroom. Yet, when she pushed open the door, there was nothing there. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Outside, Nancy. Look outside."

Instinctively, Nancy reached for the baseball bat she kept under the bed and gripped it tightly, drawing strength from the feel of the cool metal against her skin. She moved cautiously over to the window, half-expecting to see one of her long-gone friends in a bloody body bag, reaching out for her.

But the street below was empty. The streetlights reflected off the damp cement, and a cat prowled in an alley, but other than that it was dead and silent. What the hell? Am I losing my mind?

"Nancy."

There it was again, that whisper. She blinked, and when her eyes were open, she saw it. A small golden box, resting serenely in the middle of the sidewalk, covered in seemingly etched symbols. It was too far away for her to tell if there was anything readable on it. The cat approached the box warily, teeth bared in a snarl. It batted at it with a paw, and there was a crackle of blue electricity, and the cat raced off, yowling in pain and fear.

Nancy blinked again, but the box was still there. Without understand how or why, she knew it was the one calling her name, and she felt the strangest urge to go outside and pick it up.

No! A voice in her head said sternly. You know better, Nancy. Close the curtains and don't go outside. Work on your thesis, forget about the box, DO NOT GO OUTSIDE.

She nodded slowly. Something wasn't right about the box, and she wasn't about to try to find out what is was. With a supreme effort, she closed the blinds and turned her back to the window, resolutely moving forward with the intent of getting some coffee and typing for a good portion of the night.

Throughout the night and early morning, the strange box kept tugging at the corner of her mind. But Nancy had years of strengthening her mind, and she was quite able to ignore it.

x

"Nancy, its Sarah. I really hope you're on your way, but in case you aren't, you'd better hurry. Luckily, Professor Evans is running late, so you've got some time to slip in unnoticed. Oh, Nancy, you can't keep being late like this! Okay, well, bye."

Beep!

Nancy's eyes flew open, as the feel of the keyboard against her cheek came into focus. "Oh, shit, I overslept!" She sat up and glanced at the clock. 7:56. Jesus... she raced over to her answering machine and played the message again, silently thanking Sarah for caring enough to call. "Okay, screw the shower, I need to throw some clothes on and go!"

As Nancy raced outside, wearing a haphazardly thrown on sweatshirt and jeans, clutching her books to her chest, she was in such a hurry that she didn't notice that the strange box had moved. It was now resting on the front steps of her apartment building, almost patiently, as if it were quite willing to wait until it was noticed.

Not much of a chapter, I know, but it's a start. Read and review!