Never Sleep Page 2

  Odin glances up as I walk toward him. Instead of his usual grin and sparkling gray eyes, he wears a puffy face and sagging shoulders. These Clinic nights are getting to him almost as much as they get to me. He’s thin. Too thin. Thinner than he’s ever been, though neither of us have ever been able to hold much weight on our frail frames. A high metabolism, they tell us. It’s never made any sense to me, but there it is. He’s curled over his unopened book, pale skin a sharp contrast against the black cover. He looks so weak like this, but he’s the strongest person I’ve ever known.

  “Hey, big brother.” I sink into the leather couch situated across from the recliner and stare at the blank television screen perched atop a bookcase crowded with DVDs. The leather creaks underneath my jeans. “Hear the news yet?”

  “Yeah, they told me.” He looks at me, short strands of his pale red hair messily bunched together on his forehead. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this for you. I thought staying here at the Clinic with you would somehow, I don’t know, keep them from hurting you, but all I do is sit in this stupid room every day…” Odin is only Stage Three, which means he doesn’t have to stay here. But he does. For me.

  “Stop that.” I poke my foot at his leg. “See, I’m fine.” And I give him the cheesiest, biggest, most obnoxious grin I can manage.

  He laughs, and then glances over my shoulder. I turn to see Nurse Lucianne poking her head in the door. She nods and then disappears from view. I frown.

  “The worst part about all this has nothing to do with my brain melt or my fake-Collapse or whatever the hell happened. It’s that I’m under twenty-four seven surveillance. Makes me feel like some sort of convict.”

  “Well, we are practically prisoners in here.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I look wistfully out the window at the blooming day. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, but all I can do is watch from inside my cage and wish the walls would come crumbling down.

  “What movie do you want to watch? Might as well entertain ourselves.” Odin tosses his book aside. Our parents brought it to him during their last visit like some sort of peace treaty, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to open the cover, though I know he’d love reading every word.

  I push myself off the couch and shuffle over to the entertainment system, scanning the rows of DVDs for the perfect re-watch material. I spot the Buffy Vampire the Slayer: Season Five box set and pull it from the shelf. I hold it up for Odin’s inspection, and he groans.

  “Again?” He throws one of the artificial roses at me, but misses. “Come on. Stop the madness.”

  “Hush.” I mime smashing the box against the top of his head as I circle back around to the couch, suddenly feeling a spark of energy from the anticipation of watching the show. “I really want to watch The Body. It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

  “Oh, you’re in cinematic masterpiece mode again.”

  “When am I ever not in cinematic masterpiece mode?”

  “Well, yesterday we watched Mega Shark vs. Piranha, and there’s no way you can tell me that’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

  “Your fault.” I poke my finger straight at his chest. “I can’t help it if my big brother is a massive nerd who wants to watch every single monster movie that has ever aired on the Syfy Channel.”

  “Don’t talk smack about the Syfy Channel.” He tries to grab at the box set, but I wave it out of his reach. “And for the love of sanity, please stop pronouncing it Siffy.”

  “They shouldn’t have changed their name to something lame if they wanted people to pronounce it right.” I open the box set and extract the disc, smiling at Odin’s fake-annoyed face. “You know, for someone who loves that stuff so much, you have shockingly little respect for the best monster show to have ever graced us with its presence.”

  “Vampires? Not real. Mega sharks? Could happen with the right genetic engineering or the right evolutionary environment. Besides, I don’t like Syfy for the cheesy monster movies, and you know it.”

  “Yes, yes, space and the new frontier, blah, blah, blah.” I move to the DVD player and slide in the disc before sinking back into the couch.

  “Did you just ‘blah, blah, blah’ at the wonderment that is our star system?”

  “‘Course I did.” I click the play button. “Now shhh. The cinematic masterpiece is starting.”

  We fall silent, and I become lost in the show, in the moment that Buffy finds her mother’s body. It’s full of silence and grief. No swelling background music. No bright lights. I’m sucked into the screen. I’ve seen this episode a million times, but it still hits me as hard as it did the first time. I clutch the arm of the couch the moment Buffy breaks. Before this moment in the series, I could never really picture her undying strength fleeing for even one second, leaving her so lost and vulnerable. Something about it always reminds me of Gemma. Gemma and our pact, from a time before we both found ourselves living as long-term patients on the constant verge of Collapse.

  “Thora, meet Gemma.”

  Doctor Clark holds open the waiting room door. A girl with flowing blond hair shuffles through, red-streaked eyes rimmed in black. Her eyes flick over my basic jeans and tee, my costume for blending in. With her fishnet tights and her tight leather tank, I can tell blending in is the furthest thing from her mind.

  “Hi, fellow Tiger,” she says with a grin, referencing our school’s mascot. Not that either of us have ever been allowed on a sports team.

  “Good.” Doctor Clark beams. “You two get to know each other while I finish up your brother’s check-up, Thora. Since both you and Gemma are Stage Three and at the same school, you should take advantage of it. You’re lucky, you know. Most of our clients are the only insomniacs at their school.”

  Lucky. Right.

  He shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of us in the empty waiting room together.

  “I hate this shit.” She plops into the seat next to mine. I raise my eyebrows, surprised. I think the same thought every day, but it’s good to hear someone else say it.

  “Apparently we’re lucky.” My voice drips with sarcasm as I hold up the Highlights magazine I’ve been pretending to read. “Without these appointments, how would I read the latest issue?”

  Gemma cracks a smile. “Let’s make a pact.”

  “Name it.” I toss the magazine onto the table.

  The smile falls from Gemma’s face as her voice hardens. “We never let them break us.”

  My heart thumps hard as I meet her intense, unwavering stare. All the thoughts and emotions I’ve had my entire life are reflected in this strange girl’s eyes. I don’t even have to think about it.

  “It’s a pact,” I say.

  “Such a beautiful shot,” I whisper when the scene is finally over, and I’m not sure if I’m talking about the one on the screen or the one playing in my head.

  “You’re so morbid. No way your own films will be full of the happy. I can see it now.” Odin twirls the stem of the fake rose between his fingers and clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, the nominees are…Steven Spielberg for yet another movie about aliens. James Cameron for—”

  “Hey, don’t talk smack about James Cameron.”

  He grins. “And Thora Green for Morbids Anonymous. And the winner is!”

  He falls silent, and we stare across the Clinic’s common room at each other. We both know neither one of us will ever have a chance to follow our dreams, and not because they’re crazy, out-of-this-world dreams. Difficult, yeah. Impossible? Only for us. We probably won’t live long enough to see the outside of this Clinic again, let alone the world. Or in Odin’s case, the universe.

  Unless we do something about it.

  “Odin.” I glance toward the empty corridor to make sure Nurse Lucianne isn’t there. “We can’t keep doing this every night. You sitting here trapped inside. Me getting tested on night after night.”

  “They aren’t going to stop testing you, Thora, and I’m not going to leave you here, not that they
would let me at this point. You may be a stage ahead of me, but I’m creeping up on you. I can feel it. It won’t be long before I’m Stage Four.”

  I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then, what do you mean?”

  “I don’t care what Doctor Clark says, I know he has those meds.”

  Odin frowns and tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. “He swears up and down they don’t exist.”

  “Well, he’s lying.” A new wave of dizziness crashes through my head, and I have to grip the sides of the armchair until it passes. Apparently, the side effects of my Lucid Hallucination are still kicking around. “He has them. And the only reason he’s not giving them to me is so he can study my brain waves. But why? They say it’s to find a cure, but if they really wanted to help me, they wouldn’t be doing this to me. And they wouldn’t be happy I was lucid during a hallucination.”

  “I know. I know.” Odin’s sigh fills the room. “It doesn’t make any sense. I just don’t understand why they’d lie to us.”

  “Me either. But they’re trying to find something inside my brain. You must not have it or they’d be testing you, too.”

  “So, what are you suggesting?” He shifts on the couch to face me.

  “First, I want to find the meds.” Spots dot my vision, and I know I’ll never be able to concentrate like this. “I need sleep so I can think clearly, and then I’ll figure out why they want my brain waves so bad. You don’t have to help me, but it’s something I have to do. I can’t keep going like this…”

  A beat passes before he answers, but then his familiar, lopsided grin stretches across his face. “You know I wouldn’t let you do it alone, kid sister.”

  “I’m sixteen,” I say with a laugh, almost finding relief in the familiar argument.

  “And I’m seventeen. You will always be younger than me.” He pushes himself out of the chair and shakes his head at me. “Well, come on then. Let’s look for those meds before Doctor Demon gets back.”

  Three

  Avoiding certain stimuli, such as caffeinated beverages, bright lights, smoking and exercise, promotes good sleep hygiene.

  - The Chronic Insomnia Handbook for Patients

  Wait,” I say. “We need to make sure Nurse Lucianne is busy doing something else so she doesn’t follow us.”

  “Good point.” Odin sits again, and we focus our eyes on the TV, waiting for Nurse Lucianne to come back. But for the first time, I have a hard time concentrating on Buffy and the Scooby Gang, my thoughts focused on what happened last night. It’s impossible to ignore how much pain the Lucid Hallucination caused. The only other times I felt something that severe were during treatments after I Collapsed. Could the two be related somehow? A Collapse is the worst thing for me—when my body hits its breaking point and collapses into a deep comatose state. But then again, it’s also the best. It’s the only time I’m able to sleep, and when they wake me with a treatment, I feel incredibly, completely, and overwhelmingly alive. So, maybe they are trying to push my body to a Collapse, and that’s why they got so excited by my progress.

  Nurse Lucianne finally pokes her head into the room again, distracting me from my thoughts. I eke out a pretend groan.

  “Are you okay, Thora?” She doesn’t crowd my space, instead standing a few feet away and waiting for my response with worry etching lines her forehead. She’s always been a bit aloof with me, as if she’s not exactly sure how I’ll react to friendliness. Not like Doctor Clark who forces his exaggerated bedside manner on me. She’s not fake. I almost like her because of it.

  “I’m still feeling kind of dizzy from the fall. I think I need some food. And something to drink?” I look up at her with big, hopeful eyes. I know all she sees is the streaking red in them, and the washed-out irises due to my condition.

  “Of course.” She glances at her watch. “It’s not lunchtime yet, but they may have something left over from breakfast. It’ll probably take a few minutes, but I’ll be back with something soon. You sit tight.” She glances at Odin. “Make sure she doesn’t move around too much.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, shooting her one of his genuine smiles. Nurse Lucianne’s eyes brighten, and she returns his smile with a grin of her own. She’s always been more comfortable around him, and I have a feeling it has something to do with his ability to amp up the charm. Which is weird. She has to be at least twenty-five.

  Once she’s out the door, I count to ten before giving my brother a look. “Odin, stop flirting with her.”

  “I wasn’t flirting with her. I was being nice. Something you don’t do, which is probably why you don’t recognize it.” He points the fake rose at me.

  “Har, har,” I say. “You wait until you’re Stage Four. Then, we’ll talk about niceties.”

  Odin pushes himself up from his chair. “Don’t try to blame your grumbly exterior on Stage Four. I’ve known you all your life, remember?”

  He grins, but then the smile slides from his face. I reach up, barely even registering the movement, and touch the scar on the back of my head under my hairline. The one I got in the car accident six years ago. Neither of us remember anything before waking up in the hospital, barely alive after the car ran off the road. All our memories of being kids wiped clean by trauma. They used to say we’d get those memories back, but we never have, and now they blame the permanent loss on our insomnia. So, when Odin says he’s known me all my life, he can’t remember it and neither can I.

  “Come on,” Odin says, clearing his throat. I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Our insomnia has stolen so much from us. Not only our regular lives but even our memories of who we once were. “Let’s hurry before she gets back with your food.”

  We plod to the door in our navy blue slippers and take a quick look into the corridor. Empty. No Nurse Lucianne in sight. Since Odin and I are the only two “residents” at this Clinic right now, all the energy is focused on the visitor’s section during the day, where others with our condition come in for regular checkups, like at any normal doctor’s office. This Clinic is the sole Chronic and Recurrent Insomniac Clinic for the state of Connecticut, so it can get pretty busy at times. Apparently, there’s a lot of us. It’s not a well-known condition, but there’s enough chronic insomniacs in the state to keep this place booked up with appointments during daytime hours, especially since the doctors require frequent checkups for those of us in the higher stages.

  I glance at the clock. Ten A.M. Doctor Clark is only here during the night shift. Even staying extra time, he’ll be gone by now, so the timing is perfect for us to poke around for meds and answers.

  We slip into the corridor and make our way down the hallway to the medicine storage cabinet. The overhead lights hurt my eyes, though they’re dimmed from maximum brightness for me and Odin. When we make it to the closet without running into anyone, I jiggle the lock and frown.

  “Any thoughts here?” I ask, as Odin looks down the hallway one way and then the next.

  “I think we need a key,” he says.

  “Gee, Sherlock, thanks.” I poke at the lock, wishing I knew how to turn a strand of hair into a lock pick.

  “You know who would have a key, don’t you?” Odin asks.

  I frown, not sure where he’s going with this. “Nurse Lucianne would, yeah, but I really don’t think she’s going to hand it over to you, no matter how much you up the flirtation factor.”

  “I’m not talking about Nurse Lucianne,” Odin says. “Doctor Demon. He’ll probably have a key. In his office. Or better yet, the meds themselves, info on the meds and paperwork on those tests he does on you. A computer, even.” Light dances in his eyes.

  “Are you serious?” I raise my eyebrows. “You want to sneak into Doctor Clark’s office? Is this because you want answers or because you’re about to explode from no internet access for months?”

  “Both. Do you think we have time before Nurse Lucianne realizes we’re gone?” Odin backs two steps further down the hallwa
y, grinning like he’s already made up his mind.

  “No, but it’s not like she’ll guess we’re inside Doctor Clark’s office.” I take a step after him, hardly believing I’m agreeing to do this, but at the same time surprised we’ve never thought of it before now. “We’ll have at least ten, fifteen, minutes to poke around before any real damage is done.”

  Odin and I make our way down the hallway toward the door that leads to Doctor Clark’s office. Voices drift toward us from somewhere nearby, a sign people are in the offices lining this wing. Our slippers barely make a sound, and I hold my breath hoping no one will hear us or see us before we get there. When we finally reach Doctor Clark’s office door, I’m surprised to see shadows cast on the frosted glass window. Voices murmur, and Odin’s finger flies to his lips.

  “Any patients who have ever gone there are never heard from again. It’s not safe, and it’s destructive to the goals of the Clinic.” Doctor Clark’s voice is lacking the usual honey tones it has when he talks to me.

  Goosebumps dot my arms even though I have no clue what he’s talking about. Patients never heard from again? Patients, like me? I lean closer to the door, hoping to hear more.

  “You have to stop any insomniacs you see. Do whatever you have to, and if they put up a fight, you have permission to use force. They’re highly valuable to us, and we can’t afford to lose any more of them.”

  Force?

  “What are you two doing?” Nurse Lucianne’s shrill voice makes me jump. She grabs my arm and yanks me away from the door, her eyes sending daggers at Odin. “Come with me.”

  Back in the common room, she sits us down on the couch and begins pacing back and forth. My tray of food sits untouched on the coffee table. A bowl of oatmeal. My stomach growls. Not exactly the pizza I’m craving, but it’ll do.

  “You.” Nurse Lucianne points her finger at me. “You are not to be wandering around in your condition. And you, Odin, I expected you to take better care of your sister. Now, I don’t know why you were poking around outside Doctor Clark’s office, but I think it’s best for all of us if we pretend this didn’t happen.”