INSOMNIAC

Sebastian Cristy always had a picturesque life. He’s the youngest of two from an upper-middle class Canadian family, he graduated from the University of Toronto with honours, travelled the globe visiting 19 countries, teaches high-level English at a prestigious private school, and his eighth-grade students adore him – probably because he often doesn’t assign homework. Yes, Sebastian leads a life many salivate at the thought of, but for the past two weeks there’s been no place in his mind for any of those things. No room to rejoice about his abundance of blessings. Despite the near perfection of his life, there had always been one ill-favoured blemish: chronic insomnia. 

But tonight, would be different.

Tonight, in the paid company of [UNKNOWN], Sebastian prepared to leave a sleepless two weeks laden with fog, irritability, mania, and restlessness behind him for good – or at least until the disturbed countenance of insomnia circled back again to collect. 

I

It was 5:18 AM on a still-aired Friday morning in July. [UNKNOWN] sat in the living room of her client’s home, overwhelmed at the amount of food in front of her.

She recalled the strangeness of Sebastian the moment he sought her services; and as they drove around in the dead hours of the morning searching for something to eat.

“I want to treat you tonight before we go back to my place,” Sebastian had said to her. “Choose anything you’d like, it’s on me.”

[UNKNOWN] didn’t look for any reason to refuse the man’s generosity. She was no stranger to clients trying to spoil her in some way and for weeks she hadn’t eaten a full meal. She was barely scraping by, making just enough to ensure she had a roof over her head. The pair cut through the city aimlessly until the woman finally settled for McDonald’s breakfast – tried and true.

He handed her cash, told her to pick whatever she wanted from the menu, and requested that she quadrupled the order. [UNKNOWN] went in alone, and Sebastian stayed in his car watching the woman from the parking lot.

In Sebastian’s living room, the two sat closely side-by-side on a black leather couch facing his 60-inch television, the food spread out on a small glass table in front of them. An array of McGriddle’s, bacon and sausage McMuffins, hash browns – far more food than just the two of them could finish.

Sebastian lived in a very desirable and well-kept home that gave the impression of a quaint city nest with a modern blend. The room they occupied was only dimly lit by strategically placed lamps. Windows and blinds were shut, entertaining no outside spectators.

[UNKNOWN] begun curating her meal from the haul on the table. A sausage Mcgriddle, two hash browns, and a black coffee.

“So, what’s this supposed to be?” [UNKNOWN] asked as she dug into her breakfast sandwich. The TV quietly spieled in the background. Sebastian the only one seemingly paying attention to what was playing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look in her direction. The question fell on deaf ears – and so did whatever noise the TV was making despite the man’s gaze burning holes in its target.

“I knew this guy was a weirdo, he’s fucking lost sitting here.” [UNKNOWN] thought to herself.

“Hey!” the woman exclaimed, finally pulling Sebastian out of his daze.

His head whirled to look at the woman eating next to him, carefree.

“Welcome back. Remember me? the person you hired to get your nut off?” [UNKNOWN] said with a cheeky smile. She took another bite of her sandwich.

Sebastian returned a smile of his own as he reached for a hash brown, “right, I’m sorry it’s been rough two weeks. I’m just feeling a little tired.”

“mhmm,” responded [UNKNOWN], not seeming to care as she washed her meal down with lukewarm coffee.

“So, what’s this supposed to be?” she pushed again. “You have some sort of feeding fetish? Need to see me stuff my face to get it up?”

The woman chuckled to herself.

“No. Nothing like that.” Sebastian laughed along with the woman.

“Okay. Are you trying to sweep me off my feet here? The prince charming type? Hate to break it to you but McDonald’s breakfast doesn’t exactly woo many women. Thanks though.” She said while eyeing the McMuffin she replenished her hands with.

“No,” Sebastian responded with a mouth full of hash brown, “I’m not a redeemer, I don’t want to save you from the corners you walk.”

“Well, that hurt to hear.” The woman frowned playfully at her client’s answer.

[UNKNOWN] allowed herself to get more relaxed on the couch where the two feasted. She put a bent leg up on her seat and kept the other hanging off the couch, turning her body toward Sebastian. She rotated the unwrapped McMuffin looking for the perfect spot to sink her teeth. She found it.

“You’ve stumped me.” she said, looking at Sebastian who was gulping orange juice and following the nonsense playing on TV. “Why are you doing this? I could’ve just sucked your dick and you would’ve been $30 richer without all this food.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment. [UNKNOWN] stabbed him curiously with her eyes, awaiting an answer from her odd client.

“I only wanted to do you a kindness…” the man said, finally breaking the silence.

[UNKNOWN] stared briefly at her client, processing the answer and eating her McMuffin. She let out a little laugh deciding that the response was amusing.

“Such a gentlemen,” she started to say, “I knew there was something off about–“

“Before I kill you.” Sebastian interjected.

“I wanted to do you a kindness before I kill you.”

Sebastian snapped an intense look at the woman who sat closely beside him, stunned.

Sebastian took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

[UNKNOWN]’s breath sputtered out of her. An indication of her newly realized fear.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, freak?” the terrified woman barked. Her appetite suddenly gone.

[UNKNOWN] was no stranger to threats like these. Every so often, she’d get a client that’d bring her vitality into question – but all those times prior, they were sedated by drugs with a lot of bark and no bite. Her adrenaline still ran wild.

“Right now, you’re going to eat until you’re satisfied,” Sebastian explained calmly, “later tonight, I’m going to kill you. Here. In my home.”

[UNKNOWN] couldn’t do anything except receive the words that had been said so coldly to her. Yes, she was no stranger to this scenario but something about this client was different. He meant what he had said, and he could absolutely pull it off.

In her terror, her body refused to obey, and her mouth almost followed suit. “You…you’re fucking cra–“

Sebastian cut the insult short with a firm hook to the woman’s jaw, being careful not to draw blood and defile his couch or carpet. [UNKNOWN] shrieked in a daze, dropping the breakfast sandwich she had held and desperately extending an arm to defend herself from her attacker. Sebastian has done this long enough to know when his victims are shell shocked. He punched her in the jaw again with much more power, and it connected solidly.

The woman slumped backwards onto the seat of the couch – lying on top of her purse which held a taser – just barely conscious. She carried the taser around for moments just like this, but Sebastian’s merciless strikes were far too much for her. She never got a hand on the taser much less her purse. No, instead Sebastian calmly rose from his seat and began raining hammer-fists down onto the woman’s jaw until consciousness finally escaped her.

The TV hummed in the background showing things nobody in the room cared to pay attention to anymore. [UNKNOWN] laid battered and unconscious on the couch, and Sebastian huffed after his sudden burst of activity. He let his eyes search the living room, as if looking for something out of place, then let his eyes finally fall on the woman in front of him. He felt the spark of responsibility – the one you get when you’ve grown accustomed to doing something for so long. He bent down, threw [UNKNOWN] over his shoulder, and quickly exited the room with his burden.

This was no simple process.

This was just the beginning. 

II

 It was 9:22 PM on a humid Friday night in July. Sebastian was holed up in the sub-level bathroom of his crisply air-conditioned home tending delicately to [UNKNOWN], who had been impressively bound-up at the limbs, silenced with duct tape, and placed naked in the bathtub.

“I really hate the idea of having you tied up.” Sebastian frowned. “After all, you are a guest in my home and that’s no way to treat a guest. Especially not a new one."

Unable to comment, [UNKNOWN] allowed her eyes to look up at her captor in silent terror. The warm water beating down her back from the shower-head felt more oppressive than relaxing.

Conquest over ghoulish insomnia had always been a big deal for Sebastian. So big that the process leading up to suppressing the one blemish in his life had become quite particular, even if the concealment was only temporary. 

The process starts with, [UKNOWN] – or at least with any woman that shares in her profession; prostitution.

Sebastian never held any malice towards sex workers, they’re just one of the easiest populations for society to forget about whenever they disappear without a trace or turn up dead two cities over. 

Not once had Sebastian ever looked to these women for sex. That’s certainly not why he picked up [UNKNOWN] from the street corner she occupied during the unholy hours of Friday morning, and not why he offered to pay her more than her usual rate. No, after a two weeklong gauntlet with insomnia, Sebastian Cristy only sought the twisted remedy – the only remedy – that kept his unfavourable condition at bay long enough for him to enjoy his almost perfect life. 

Sebastian needed the corpse of a woman ranging from 5’5” to 5’8” to fit the mould he carved into the underside of his queen-sized mattress while he lies peacefully asleep on top. Any shorter and Sebastian wouldn’t get the full benefit of his remedy. Any taller and they become too much of a hassle to deal with; and after creeping through the darkest regions of Toronto looking for his precious remedy, he had finally found it.

He had finally found her.

He had finally found, [UNKNOWN].

Sebastian’s curious case started at 14 years old – although he didn’t initially realize it. At this age, he had already struggled with insomnia for three years and no conventional means of treatment showed any lasting effect on him. At such a ripe age – an age where he should’ve been radiating life – he was already a husk of a child, but things changed after a chilling vacation with his family. 

During their stay at an upscale hotel in St. Petersburg, Russia, the family had complained to the front desk about a wretched smell that blanketed their room. After some convincing, the concierge finally accompanied the family up to their room to investigate the stench. To his surprise, their claims were true. There was a foul smell despite the room being carefully tended to prior to their arrival. To amend the inconvenience, the family’s room was thoroughly cleaned while they continued their merry vacation, experiencing the city and its wonders.

When the Cristy’s returned to their hotel room, everything was seemingly up to par. The rotten smell had been replaced by the pleasant and citrusy aroma of cleaning products. The family spent a peaceful first night at the hotel, but the tranquility didn’t last.

Ravaged by his insomnia, Sebastian couldn’t get much sleep and it didn’t help that his bed felt lumpy and stiff in the center.

Sometime during the night, his nose once again became intimate with the same foul aroma that previously filled his family’s room; and as the night went on, it became more pungent.

In the morning, the Cristy’s reintroduced the problem to the concierge who was quick to investigate the claim. Apologetic about the reoccurring and repulsive conditions, the concierge had the family moved to a new and more luxurious suite.

During the final night of the Cristy’s Russian getaway, there was a lot of activity in the lobby of the hotel. Authorities and nosy guests alike crowded the foyer, brought together for the same reason.

As the family penetrated through the congested lobby, the concierge caught eye of the Cristy’s and pulled them aside, feeling compelled to let them in on what’s happening.

He went on to explain that the police were there because of the same smell that came from the room they previously settled in. Another set of guests reported a repulsive odour throughout the space. When the maids were sent to scour every nook and cranny, one of them flipped the mattress – the same mattress that Sebastian had occupied just nights before – and discovered the rotting corpse of a prostitute, laid atop the wooden bed frame, and aligned perfectly with a section of the mattress that’d been carved out. 

The horror of the incident loomed over the Cristy’s for a long while – but evidently, it never left Sebastian.

At first, he shared the same horror that his family felt. After all, it was Sebastian that was settled over a dead prostitute – but his feelings of shock and disgust were eventually overridden by something else.

The cruel oppression of insomnia often led Sebastian to nights full of restlessness and uninterrupted thought. His mind would bounce from cursing the condition that deteriorated him at such a young age, to his studies, to important upcoming dates, to finally the playful bliss of teenage fantasy – but somewhere along the lines, his playful teenage fantasies turned into something more sinister.

Consumed by the wakefulness of his condition, Sebastian began to find comfort in the newly realized darker corners of his mind. Dismissing all the things that previously kept his mind busy in the loneliness of the night and adopting a refreshing focus on the restfulness of a corpse. Since he never knew the identity or face of the prostitute he once laid over, he assigned features and unique physical characteristics to the dead women he would fantasize about, giving life to vessels devoid of such. 

At first these intrusive thoughts brought Sebastian great discomfort; unable to shake these troubling images and urges. He couldn’t understand why these thoughts would so ruthlessly infiltrate his mind, but eventually these feelings of confusion and disgust drained from him like pulling the plug from a basin full of water.

In the blanket of night, teenage Sebastian could now feel the embrace of sleep creeping up on him, as he allowed his imagination to permit the peaceful companionship of a cold corpse underneath him. For the first time in a long time, Sebastian slept, and he slept well; until imagination no longer sufficed.

In his adulthood, Sebastian fought a new battle. For years he understood the solace of sleep at the behest of thoughts no sane person would entertain, but over time, his avenue of escape began to fade. Imagining dead women wasn’t enough to fend off devilish insomnia anymore. Sebastian craved something more – something absolute. 

As a man, he lived his almost perfect life analyzing every woman he came across. Studying their features, overt and subtle. Noting the way their hair would lay, the vigor of their skin, colour of their lips, fluidity of their curves, dexterity of their fingers, the light in their eyes, and then he would allow his mind to pluck the life from their bodies and frame the image of their pristine corpses laid bare beneath him.

It was like torture. Desiring something that society would so vehemently reject, but when Sebastian was 28, he decided to go against the grain for the sake of his own sanity. To treat the only defect in his life. For the first time in a long time – after giving in to his bizarre, ritualistic urges – Sebastian slept, and he slept well. This time, aided by the body of a prostitute he never bothered to learn the identity of.

III

On this humid Friday evening, 35-year-old Sebastian Cristy commenced the meticulous routine he adopted so many years ago.

As [UNKNOWN] sat helpless, terrified, silenced, and naked in Sebastian’s bathtub, her deranged captor begun by presenting a swimming cap. He carefully bundled up her highlighted, shoulder length hair, and tucked it away in the cap to avoid any loose strands invading the serenity of his home – or his bed. 

Sebastian values cleanliness very highly in his victims. Although he wished he could keep the horrible odour of decomposition at bay indefinitely, he settled for washing his victims by his own hand.

Sebastian hums merrily as he lathered [UNKNOWN] with tangerine scented body soap, consumed by the thought of the full nights rest to come. 

He started with her back, followed by her chest.

Then he soaped her arms, all the way down to her legs, all while paying adequate attention to the other corners and folds of the body.

He washed her at length, lathering and rinsing, hoping to reap the rewards of his capture for as long the ugly hand of rot will allow.

[UNKNOWN] could only sit there and try to calm her racing mind. She understood this was no ordinary instance of capture and kill, but there was nothing she could’ve done about it then. All she had left was the pain of realizing the luck of being offered a rate far beyond that of her usual charge had not been luck at all. That in and of itself was numbing enough for the woman.

When [UNKNOWN]’s hygiene was to his standard, Sebastian removed the prostitute from his white porcelain tub and made her stand on a towel he spread out over a blue plastic tarp that dressed the bathroom floor. As [UNKNOWN] stood reluctantly, Sebastian dried her from head to toe with another towel.

At this stage in the process, Sebastian usually introduces his sacrifice to a fresh pair of panties to control and contain any pubic hair. For [UNKNOWN], he decided the underwear was unnecessary since all her pubic hair was already cleanly waxed off.

He stood tall, looking exuberantly pleased.

After the moment of admiration, Sebastian attended to the bathroom counter, sifting through the different bottles of lotion displayed on top to choose the scent best suited for, [UNKNOWN]. 

Sandalwood, mango citrus, lavender, eucalyptus, shea butter – “yes, shea butter is perfect for you.” He said, satisfied with his choice.

With several sharp pumps of the nozzle, shea butter spilled into Sebastian’s palm.

He clasped his hands, rubbing them together, distributing the lotion as fairly as he could. Then the man began to moisturize [UNKNOWN]’s body. His hands slipped over her skin with grim excitement and purpose. 

When the prostitute’s body was to his liking, Sebastian moved on to the final stages of the routine, now looking to tend to his own hygiene before bed.

The security and seclusion of Sebastian’s sub-level bathroom was broken when he unlocked and opened the door. 

With her legs still tightly bound with rope at the ankles and just above the knees, [UNKNOWN]’s disturbed captor retrieved a kitchen knife that he had resting nearby and pressed the tip against her abdomen, barely below her ribcage. The woman winced and pressed her eyes shut in fearful anticipation. She moaned under the many layers of duct tape that sealed her mouth.

Sebastian gestured towards the open bathroom door, “I understand how uncomfortable this may be for you, but I need you to hop over to that crate outside the door. Small bunny hops.”

He repositioned behind her. The cold blade now pressed against her kidney.

“This instrument is so crude, it holds no elegance…at least not the blades you find nowadays,” Sebastian ponders. “Charm lost with time I suppose...please don’t give me a reason to use this ugly thing, you have such beautiful skin.”

[UNKNOWN] complied with no hesitation. She hopped lopsidedly to the crate – meant for large dogs – trying to keep her balance as best she could in her restricted state.

At the request of her captor, the prostitute willed herself down to her knees and squirmed her way into the crate where she would wait for Sebastian to return.

After securing the crate, Sebastian grabbed a large blanket that he kept nearby. He unfolded it by letting its halves flop loosely towards the ground. The shuffling of the fabric competed with the muffled weeping of [UNKNOWN], who seemingly became painfully aware that her final moments were nearing. 

Sebastian covered the crate with the blanket, offering the distraught prostitute no words of consolation or malice. Almost as if he was granting her the privilege of grief, knowing what’s to come.

With that, the insomniac made his way up the basement steps, destined for his bedroom. The excitement within him so grand it was as if he floated throughout the house, now preparing himself for bed.

In the master bathroom of his humble home, Sebastian relieved himself of his clothing and ran a hot shower. A part of him melted away at the comfort the water offered him, reminiscent of a long warm embrace. 

He lathered his body with a softly scented vanilla shower gel – making sure not to miss a spot – then shampooed and conditioned his shaggy, dark brown hair.

He took the moment to stand idle in the shower. Not thinking or doing anything in particular, rather, he just enjoyed the minute as it came. Letting the water navigate down the length of his body. A picture of peace.

After drying himself on a bathmat placed outside the entrance of his walk-in shower, Sebastian made his way to his bathroom counter where he moisturized himself with coconut scented lotion.

He giddily glided over to his dresser and picked out a fresh pair of pajamas – a t-shirt and old basketball shorts – and found himself back in his bathroom readying his toothbrush to scrape away his busy evening.

As Sebastian brushed his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror. Losing himself in the dark pits of his eyes, overcome with emotion, much like a child on their birthday or the eve of Christmas. 

“This is so cliché, what am I? The demented main character of a Netflix show?” he playfully thought to himself. 

When Sebastian finished freshening himself up for his big night, he shifted his attention to his neatly made queen-sized bed, marking the commencement of the final acts of his obscure routine. 

First, he removed the comforter that was uniformly draped over the mattress, followed by several pillows and extra linens.

He positioned himself at the length of his bed, slipped his hands between the mattress and the frame and with one fluid motion, flipped the mattress, exposing the human-shaped carveout hidden beneath.

Sebastian paused for a moment and relished the sight of the human-sized groove. One edge of the mattress lay stacked on the side of the wooden bed frame while the other lay on the floor, reminding Sebastian of a set of dominoes that’ve been toppled over. 

Under the bed frame, Sebastian stored a set of small plastic tarps.

He reached under and retrieved one, unfolded it, and dressed the open space of the bed frame with it, exactly where [UNKNOWN] will be placed.

He then reached under the frame again and grabbed a second tarp, this time setting a space on the floor next to the bed.

Feeling content, Sebastian is blindsided by a big, hearty yawn. A rare indication that his body is ready to turn-in for the night, so he listened to the body that he values so much - a body that’s been weathered by unrelenting insomnia – and ventured to his basement one final time.

IV

Sebastian shuffled through his home, knife in hand, led astray by nothing. His descent to the basement where [UNKNOWN] awaited his return felt almost instantaneous. His movements were sharp and certain, and executed with a slight haste.

As he reached the bottom of the basement stairs, he abruptly slowed his pace. He eyed the crate like a predator watching its doomed prey in the wild and he slowly approached the cage with the same controlled animosity.

Sebastian halted before [UNKNOWN]’s cramped metal prison and yanked off the blanket.

Although she heard her captor approach, the sudden and forceful removal of the blanket startled the prostitute. The tears began to flow again.

Sebastian stood tall looking down at [UNKNOWN], who remained locked away. “It’s time for us to go to bed,” he said, eyes meeting the woman’s tearful glare. “But I’m not a monster, so before we turn-in for the night I’ll let you exercise the human liberty of using the toilet.”

He held a warm toothless grin as he unlocked the crate and motioned for her to come out, to which she obliged. 

Instead of letting her struggle to her feet, Sebastian offered [UNKNOWN] one final act of courtesy by undoing the ropes that kept her legs completely bound. Her bare legs showcasing the deep red impressions the rope had left behind. He checked the integrity of the woman’s arm bindings before permitting her to get up, entertaining no possibility for escape or retaliation.

“Up.” Sebastian barked, displaying a new sense of sternness. 

[UNKNOWN] willed herself to her feet despite knowing what lied in store for her. Her tears have subsided, leaving behind eyes glossed over with solemnity, almost as if the flood of emotion from just before was her last showing of sorrow. On the surface, she now exuded nothing but quiet acceptance as she moved to fulfil her tired captor’s string of demands.

Sebastian stood next to the entrance of the bathroom and extended an arm indicating that he’s granting the prostitute access to the lavatory.

“After you.”

[UNKNOWN] accepted the invitation by cautiously slipping past her captor and taking up a stance in front of the toilet. Sebastian followed behind her and reached down to lift the lid for his guest. The woman sat without prompt.

“Normal circumstances would call for me to turn my back and give you a moment of privacy but…you understand right?” He said, watching her with a certain intensity. 

[UNKNOWN] made no sound or movement to respond. Instead, she focused only on preserving her dignity and giving herself the privilege of urinating on as much of her own terms as the situation would concede. She hung her head low and began to pee. 

Sebastian watched in an eerie silence. When she finished, Sebastian directed her to stand up and spread her legs. 

“I’m going to wipe you down.” The man said. 

[UNKNOWN] stood looking completely dispirited as Sebastian retrieved a cleansing wipe from a container in the cupboard and wiped her vagina and legs. 

“Again, I’m not a monster.” He reassured.

He disposed of the used wipes in a nearby garbage bag that contained the rest of the woman’s belongings. 

The pair exited the bathroom.

Sebastian waved the kitchen knife, gesturing towards the basement stairs.

“You’re going to walk up these stairs and make a left. You’ll come to see another set of stairs on your left-hand side. When you do, go towards them and make your way to the top floor.” He said, his gaze transfixed on the woman rather balefully.

“Don’t stray. I’ll be right behind you, and I tend to keep my kitchen knives very sharp.” 

The woman listened, heeding the warning. 

Regardless of his presence and her compliance to his demands, [UNKNOWN] conducted herself as if Sebastian wasn’t even there. Her mind in a numb daze due to the horrific surrealism of her situation. By the time she reached the top floor of the house, she had already solidified her resolve. She found her peace in the absoluteness of the fate to come. Sebastian’s voice infiltrated [UNKNOWN]’s delirium: “turn left and continue to the end of the hallway.”

She listened.

The pair came to a stop in front Sebastian’s bedroom door; it was shut. He grabbed her bicep moving her to the side and motioned to open the door. With the entrance unobstructed, Sebastian quietly issued another command – the final command of the evening – trying to contain a rush of elation. 

“Walk over to the tarp on the floor and lie on your back.”

She listened. Her legs maneuvered as if they were made of iron.

She dragged to a stop along the length of the tarp and dropped to her knees.

Sebastian closed his bedroom door and locked it. His eyes not once wandering from his precious remedy. 

He meandered to his dresser and placed the knife on top.

Sebastian walked and took up a stance behind a disconnected looking [UNKNOWN], his muscles quivered in anticipation. He remained soundless waiting for the prostitute to complete his demand, and she did.

As she laid on her back – arms bound beneath her – [UNKNOWN] squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

The woman’s breathing became faster as her insane captor climbed over her, taking time to stabilize himself.

Her breathing intensified further as the insomniac’s hands slid around her neck.

Sebastian’s heart slammed in his chest. 

He looked down at [UNKNOWN] from his position mounted on top of her – hands hugging her neck – and said, “t—thank you.”, almost as if he was intoxicated. His face beamed with deranged euphoria. And after a moment of bliss, Sebastian tightened his grip, strangling [UNKNOWN] beneath him.

[UNKNOWN]’s eyes shot open. Her body quaked almost without her control. It fought for the oxygen it was being so greedily robbed of by the insomniac. She croaked and moaned desperately under layers of duct tape, only to be heard by the entranced man dragging the life from her body. Her legs thrashed violently, and arms wriggled beneath her.

His grip only tightened.

Her eyes welled up, looking swollen and stained red. And suddenly, the thrashing stopped – and so did her noises. Her swollen eyes drained of the life it once had. All that remained were two glass eyes stopped short of showing the insomniac sorrow once more. 

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle. 

The vice grip he once maintained eased.

He collected himself and raised to his feet, towering over his precious remedy’s corpse.

He stared down at the body satisfied, overwhelmed by a sense of release, wiping perspiration from under his nose and breathing deeply. 

The insomniac snapped out of his trance and shot a look at his bed frame. He quickly got to work.

Sebastian got down on one knee and flipped [UNKNOWN]’s corpse on its stomach. Then, he began to undo the ropes that bound the arms. He flipped the corpse onto its back and slid his arms under it; one below the shoulders and the other below the knees. He braced and picked the load up from his bedroom floor and relocated it to the tarp that dressed his bed frame.

Without pause, he made his way to his mattress and stood at the side resting on the floor. He reached down and carefully flipped the mattress to its correct side. He assured the corpse aligned perfectly with the mould at the bottom, until finally, he was finished.

Sebastian crept to the foot of his bed and stared with utter satisfaction. A night full of uninterrupted rest was finally in his grasp – but not before some housekeeping.

His attention shot to the tarp on his bedroom floor which he rushed over to collect, along with the rope and knife he left atop his dresser.

He walked quickly toward the bedroom door and flung it open. He moved through his home intently, first depositing the knife to its rightful place in the kitchen, then to the basement to dispose of the tarp and rope in the garbage bag that held all of [UNKNOWN]’s belongings.

In no time, Sebastian found himself back inside the security of his bedroom. He shut the door yet again, locking it. 

First, he retrieved the comforter and pillows that he set aside earlier, then maneuvered relaxedly toward his queen-sized bed. He tossed the comforter on the bed and placed the pillows in a manner he saw fit.

He let out an exhausted sigh and climbed into bed.

He situated himself atop and unfolded the comforter, allowing his body to be lost under the covers as his head lay on his pillows, contented.

The insomniac turned off his bedroom lights by giving his smart-speaker a command.

In the newfound tranquility of his bed, Sebastian laid on his back motionless, lulled by the understanding of what also lay motionless beneath him; the 5’6” corpse of a kidnapped prostitute he never bothered to learn the name of. The thought brought the insomniac comfort, reminding the man of the extent of his tiredness. He could feel the fatigue he had built up during his two week bout with wicked insomnia fluttering through his body in waves. He felt the weight of his eyelids as he glanced over at the clock on his wall. 

It was 12:04 AM and much like the final grand fall of a curtain, Sebastian’s eyelids fell shut one last time for the night.

Yes, that night the insomniac Sebastian Cristy slept, and he slept well.

END