Sleepless
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The bed was too soft.
Too big.
Too comfortable.
At home, sleeping was different.
Our apartment made noises.
The pipes rattled.
The neighbors argued through the walls.
Cars passed outside at odd hours.
Sometimes a dog barked somewhere in the distance.
Those sounds used to annoy me.
Now I missed them.
Because they meant home.
This house was silent.
Not normal silent.
The kind of silence that felt expensive.
As if the walls had been built specifically to keep the outside world away.
I lay on my back staring at the ceiling and missed my mommy so much it hurt.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
Like someone had placed a heavy stone directly on my chest.
---
Whenever I was scared, I used to sing her song.
It was our song.
I don't know where it came from.
Maybe she'd learned it as a child.
Maybe she'd invented it herself.
I never asked.
I just knew it belonged to us.
Whenever the world felt too frightening, she'd hum it softly while holding me close.
The melody always started low.
Gentle.
Almost like a secret.
And every single time, she forgot the same words.
Every single time.
Then she'd laugh and make something up instead.
I used to laugh too.
---
Now I could only hear the song inside my head.
I couldn't hum it.
Couldn't sing it.
Couldn't even whisper the words.
My voice was still gone.
The melody floated through my thoughts like a memory I couldn't touch.
And somehow, that felt lonelier than silence itself.
Because every note reminded me of her.
And she wasn't here.
---
I rolled onto my side.
Then onto my back.
Then onto my other side.
Nothing helped.
The room felt too large.
The bed felt too empty.
The darkness felt unfamiliar.
Eventually, I sat up.
Maybe if I found the nanny, she could help.
Maybe she knew something.
Maybe somebody had found my mommy.
Hope made me climb out of bed.
---
The hallway outside was enormous.
Everything in this house seemed designed for giants.
The ceilings stretched endlessly overhead.
The walls looked miles apart.
Even the doors were taller than any doors I'd ever seen.
I stood there for a moment before carefully stepping forward.
My bare feet made almost no sound.
---
The staircase at the end of the hallway looked terrifying.
There were so many steps.
Far more than any staircase should reasonably have.
I gripped the railing tightly with both hands.
Then began making my way down.
Slowly.
Carefully.
One step at a time.
I was halfway down when a voice stopped me cold.
"What are you doing here?"
---
I froze.
My heart jumped into my throat.
King stood at the bottom of the stairs.
I hadn't seen him in the darkness.
He was leaning against the railing with his arms crossed.
Watching me.
Waiting.
His expression revealed absolutely nothing.
---
I immediately wanted to cry.
Not because he'd been rude.
Not because he'd shouted.
Because he hadn't.
His voice was calm.
Controlled.
And somehow that made him more intimidating.
My mommy always warned me about people like that.
People who never needed to raise their voices.
People who could make a room quiet simply by entering it.
King felt like that.
---
He straightened slightly.
"Why is a child wandering around this house at midnight?"
The question sounded less like curiosity and more like an investigation.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
His eyes narrowed.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
The silence stretched between us.
---
Then my stomach betrayed me.
A loud growl echoed through the staircase.
I closed my eyes immediately.
Mortified.
Of all the moments for that to happen.
King stared at me.
Then at my stomach.
Then back at me.
For a second, I thought he might laugh.
He didn't.
Something shifted in his expression instead.
Not softness.
Not kindness.
Just understanding.
---
Without warning, he walked up the remaining stairs.
I tensed.
Then he simply lifted me into his arms.
Like it was the most practical solution available.
I blinked in surprise.
Too shocked to react.
He carried me downstairs and into the kitchen.
The entire time, neither of us spoke.
Not that I could.
---
The kitchen was larger than our entire apartment.
King opened the refrigerator.
Then looked at me.
"What do you want?"
I touched my throat.
Shook my head.
Tried to explain with my eyes.
His gaze lingered on me for a moment.
Then he sighed.
"So I'm talking to a wall."
The words weren't cruel.
Just factual.
Which somehow made them funnier.
If I'd had my voice, I might have laughed.
---
Instead, King stared into the refrigerator for another few seconds.
Then closed the door.
Without explanation.
Without food.
Without saying anything else.
He picked me up again and carried me back upstairs.
I was too confused to protest.
---
When we reached my room, he set me down gently outside the door.
Then pointed toward it.
"Tomorrow."
That was all he said.
One word.
Nothing more.
Then he turned and walked away.
---
I stood there for a long time after he disappeared.
Staring at the empty hallway.
Turning that single word over in my mind.
Tomorrow.
What did it mean?
Was he angry?
Was he planning to send me away?
Was I in trouble?
The more I thought about it, the less I understood.
Eventually, I went back inside my room.
But I didn't sleep.
Not really.
I spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness.
Thinking about my mommy.
Thinking about King.
And wondering why somehow, that single word felt more like a warning than a promise.