You were desperate for sleep. It didn’t even need to be a full night—just an hour, or even half of one, would have been fine with you at this point. Anything to give your aching body and exhausted mind a break. But as long as he was around, that was never going to happen.

You were lying in bed, curled up beneath the blankets, clinging to the faint hope that this time—maybe this time—you could finally drift off. Your eyes were heavy, your limbs weak with exhaustion, and for a moment, you could feel yourself slipping into that hazy, blissful limbo between wakefulness and sleep. Your breathing slowed, your body relaxed, and the weight of exhaustion started to pull you under.

But then, just as you were on the verge of finally slipping into unconsciousness, a very unwelcome voice whispered directly into your ear.

“Hey… did you know that if you don’t sleep for 72 hours, you become clinically insane?”

The words were spoken in that devilishly smug tone, drawn out just enough to make sure they were seared into your barely-functioning brain. Before you even had the chance to groggily process them, you suddenly felt a pair of clawed hands roughly grab your shoulders and shake you like a rag doll.

“Wakey, wakey, Nutbag!” Luci’s voice rang out, far too loud and far too gleeful for the middle of the night.