Chapter Text
Hi! My name is Layla Nightshade. I started keeping a journal because weird things started happening and it was scary. My dad thought it was night terrors, I used to get them a lot when I was younger. And when THOSE happened he thought it was just nightmares. A therapist had to tell him it was more than that.
But I know I wasn’t just imagining things, I was wide awake and ready. I felt it even!
I know I’m not the only one who has experienced night terrors, so I might not be the only one who experienced this! Which means others might also be scared. So, I’m making a detailed guide for me and anyone else that needs it.
____
“Lay?” Damian whispered discreetly, flicking a small paper ball at her to catch her attention.
“Hm…?” She turned her head to look at him.
She hadn’t slept well ever since she stayed the night at his place. The sight and sound of the tall lady never left her mind, never left the corner of her eyes. It had probably been… two weeks since then? Layla didn’t remember anymore. But it was Thursday again, so she can assume.
“I know this topic. We can go to the nurses office, I’ll tutor you on it later.” Damian is observant, Layla had come to learn that quickly, and that meant she had to try extra hard to hide things from him.
“I’ll be fine, just didn’t sleep much yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Uh… night terrors.” She did her best not to frown at her own words. She hates calling them night terrors. They aren’t! But she can’t tell Damian what they are, especially not that they first happened at his house. “They’re coming back, it’s harder for me to fall asleep and have a good sleep.”
He let out a simple hum of acknowledgement before standing up and walking towards the teacher. He whispered something to the older woman and then walked back in front of Layla.
“We’re going to the nurse’s office. I told Ms Rebecca you’re sick, cold. It is easy to fake and you already run cold, so the fever symptom shouldn’t need to be faked.” No given chance of protest, and turning around to walk away immediately, typical Damian. Though, he did look over his shoulder to check she was following, that’s an improvement.
The moment they were far away enough from the classroom, and grabbed the sleeve of his uniform and tugged on it.
“I’ll be fine, Dami. I don’t want to go to the nurses office.” Her distress was obvious. Her body was tense and the grip she had on his sleeve was unsure. He kept quiet, simply waiting for her to explain herself. “She’ll call my dad.”
“Why do you not want them to call your father?”
“He’ll just send me back to therapy if he knows I’m having night terrors again.” She tugged on his sleeve harder. “I don’t want her to call my dad.”
She assumed her friend was pondering it over. He stared at her in blank silence.
“I think therapy would be good. Night terrors are not just nightmares, and they have happened before, yes? It would be best if you seeked help early.”
She tried to hold back her whine of protest, but it escaped before she knew it. She really wanted to tell Damian the truth, it made her stomach churn having to keep it a secret knowing it started after their sleepover, that she couldn’t tell him about the monster (?) that chased her in his own house.
She also didn’t have a valid argument against it. Her therapist had been good, she had given her dad good advice to prevent them, and with a number of lengthy sessions, she stopped having them. It’s crazy how stressed a little 5 year old girl can be. Both her and her dad even kept going to therapy after her terrors had gone away because they were being genuinely helped.
But these aren’t night terrors! She’s had them, and these aren’t it!
“Come on.” He tugged on her wrist. His hold was loose, but not enough for her to be able to slip out of it. “I will take you to the nurse’s office and she will call your dad. You will tell your dad about your night terrors, and he will decide if he wants you to go back to therapy or not. Okay?”
She sighed, defeated, she nodded and followed him.
He didn’t let go of her wrist.
The nurse’s office is just a smaller version of the principal’s office. Her desk has pain killers and tea, a makeshift cot beside the desk, and two chairs across from it.
The pain killers are never used. Kids don’t go to the office to get better, they go to waste time or go home. And the nurse doesn’t entertain them, so she sends them back to the classroom with an ice pack about as big as their eyes and a ‘get better.’ On rare occasions, she’ll call their parents for an early pick up during their last class, or to tell the kid they won’t be picked up. Layla has only been to the office once or twice, and it was for sprained ankles.
They talked to the nurse, making up pure bull for her cold, and getting her dad on the phone.
“Your dad will get here during recess, sweetie. Go back to your classroom and wait for him.”
Once she got in her dad’s car, he handed her a sweater.
“Used to the cold or not, put on the sweater, Bloomer. We’ll make a quick stop at the store to get some soup, okay?”
The sweater was too big. It swallowed her whole and left her only with her knees and below. He couldn’t have brought one of her own sweaters? You know, like, the ones he bought for her and that actually fit her? Nevertheless, she put it on and curled up in the back seat. She took off her shoes and tucked her knees against her chest, covering them with the sweater. Her arms went into the sweater and she brought it up to her nose, muffling her voice.
“Dad, uhm, I don’t actually have a cold.” She was embarrassed to admit it. Her dad wasn’t a stickler for the rules, he used to skip class every day (so he says), but he always encouraged Layla to at least do it with someone, or because she already knew the subject.
“I know. You don’t eat breakfast when you’re sick, and you ate three quesadillas before I dropped you off. The soup is for dinner.”
Oh. Is he trying to call her fat?
She tucked her face further into the sweater.
“I’ve been your dad for 11 years, I know my Bloomer.”
She groaned, taking a slow breath before bringing down the sweater. She couldn’t give herself the opportunity to chicken out.
“I’m… I don’t know. Dad, something happened when I slept at Dami’s house.”
He kept his eyes on the road, but shot a quick glance at Layla through the rear view mirror. “What happened?”
“I… I don’t really know. I went to the kitchen at night and when I went back to Damian’s room, there was a lady at his door. She was scary. Tall, gangly, skinny. All that. Her neck was really long.” The more she explained it, the more stupid it sounded. She sounded like a kid with an overactive imagination, and a liar. She didn’t have anything to prove it. “She chased me around his house and pushed me down the stairs.”
“That’s where you got your bruise from?” He didn’t believe her. Of course he didn’t. He sounded skeptical, he glanced at her again with concern, but it had nothing to do with the bruise. He sighed and parked in front of the store, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to look at her. “Bloomer, I think you should know by this point that I really don’t like it when you lie to me. Were you sleep walking? You used to do that a lot when you were—“
“I wasn’t! I know I wasn’t. She chased me to the stairs and tackled me. I know I was awake!” She almost cried, her throat felt tight and her eyes burned. She was desperate for her dad to believe her, to believe she wasn’t lying. She knows it sounds stupid, but she also knows what happened to her!
Her dad just sighed, unlocking the car and getting out. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, just wait here and calm down, okay?"
She slumped back against her seat and sniffled, doing her best to hold back her tears and not sob. It wasn’t fair, he’s her dad! Why can’t he believe her?
The rest of the car ride was silent. She spent it looking out the window with her nose tucked into the sweater. She wanted to wear her own.
The moment they got home, he pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Bloomer. I know you’re scared, but I assure you it’s nothing. We’ll go back to the advice Ms Lia gave us for your night terrors, okay? Everything is gonna be okay.” His voice was soothing, calm and collected like he always was. Always had to be for Layla.
She didn’t return the hug, but she leaned into it.
She did her usual routine. Eat, do homework, shower, and watch tv upside down. You'll get dizzy, her dad always says. It’s a losing battle, he should know this by now. Mimi was with her grandma, so that meant she didn't have to worry about her cat going hungry.
She's always liked Star vs The forces of evil. Goofy x the occasional seriousness is always great. Or maybe it’s just not that hard to entertain a preteen, potatoe potato.
It was a nice distraction too, the colors and Star’s shenanigans offered an escape from the image and sound of that tall lady.
She’s never going back to Damian’s house. She decided that the moment her dad picked her up, she's sure her dad won’t ever give her permission to go to Damian’s house again after seeing her burst out crying in his backseat. He stopped going out with a woman because Layla didn’t trust her, crying with someone to blame is a whole other ordeal for him.
The tv noise faded with every passing minute, her mind was empty and her body limped against the couch.
She woke up sweaty and uncomfortable. Her head hurt, her neck felt sore, and the rest of her body felt too stretched. Consequences of falling asleep upside down.
Is her dad already asleep? He’s never let her sleep on the couch. Every time she tried, he carried her back to her room.
Was it because she cried in the car? Or maybe she was getting too big, ‘you should know this by now’ kind of thing. It made her eyes sting again.
Regardless, she sat up correctly on the couch and looked around.
It was dark, way too dark and silent. The TV had been turned off, meaning that her dad did know she slept on the couch and turned off the TV without taking her to her room.
She stood up and wobbled to her room. Again, her body felt way too stretched, so she felt like she needed to keep her body as still as possible to avoid any unnecessary pain that came with moving.
Knock knock.
Someone knocked at the door.
She didn’t know what time it was, her dad was asleep, but they could mean anything between 8 pm and 4 am.
She walked towards the door and opened it. There was no one outside, no movement or noise that could suggest someone was hiding either. Ding dong ditches aren’t common in her neighborhood, it’s all mostly elderly people and adults without kids after all.
She shrugged and closed the door. She was ready to go to her room, or continue sleeping on the couch, but there was something behind her in the hallway.
It was a man (?). He was tall and lanky and dark. She couldn’t distinguish any features, just eyes that glowed a bright white. He was just a few inches shorter than the doorframe. His head was tilted to the side, seemingly studying her own frame.
She froze again. Her body got really cold and it couldn’t stop trembling, her legs held her weight by a damn miracle, and she felt nauseous.
He wasn’t as scary as the tall lady, but she didn’t have it in her to move, to do something.
Their staring contest lasted minutes, or seconds. Layla’s sense of time hasn’t fully developed yet.
Eventually, she gathered enough strength to grab the door knob. She tried to open the door and run out, but the man was too fast. He ran and pinned her against the wall by gripping her head and pushing her head against the door.
It hurt badly. She knew strands would fall out, and her head throbbed in pain and fear. She wanted to curl up and cry, hide until her dad found her and comforted her again, until Alfred turned on the lights and made it go away like magic.
She knew she should scream. Kick, punch, bite, piss herself if she needs to. Everything her teachers taught her ran through her head, but it only served to make her even more dizzy. Her head was spinning with all sorts of information running through it.
Her hand weakly tried to scratch at the man’s wrist, but it felt like trying to scratch wood with chipped nails. His grip didn’t lessen at all, he even started shaking her head when she attempted to kick him off.
The more she moved, the easier it was to continue moving. She couldn’t calm down in the slightest, but she squirmed and struggled enough to let one instinct through.
“DAD!!”
She screamed loud and high. She’s never been one to scream, the most she’s done is quick shrieks when her dad spooks her to tease her.
It didn’t take that long, of course it didn’t. Her dad turned on the lights of the living room and the man disappeared. Her hair wasn’t being pulled on, and she was kicking and thrashing at nothing.
“Bloomer? What happened, are you alright?” Her dad’s expression was a portrait of concern and panic, the expected reaction when you wake up to your little daughter screaming for you.
Layla stood with her back to the front door, waiting for her dad to leave the living room and find her there. She didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to look at the dark corners of the kitchen visible from where she stood.
The moment he found her, she was scooped up into a bear hug where her feet just barely touched the floor. She cried against him, unable to answer any questions that went in through one ear and out the other. She could answer later, she just needed her dad.
It took her fprever to calm down. Her dad had to cardyhedto the couch and hold her in his lap until the sun started to rise. The darkness of the house made her inconsolable, every time she tried to express her need for light, she’d break down more and start gagging as if her dinner didn’t want to stay in her stomach.
It was pathetic. The other day, she broke down in her dad’s car. Now, she couldn’t stop crying in his arms. Tears and snot soaked the front of his shirt where he held her close, his sleeves wrinkled where she gripped him to try and ground herself. It didn’t work, his shirt was just ruined for the day.
She sniffled a few times before finally relaxing against him, focusing her view on the light starting to seep through the windows. Any monster nearby was gone, they couldn’t touch her anymore.
He patted her back, silently asking her to explain herself.
“I,” sniffle. “I woke up and someone knocked on the door. But, but nobody was there and when I turned around there was a man and he pulled on my hair and I couldn’t get him off me until you turned on the lights.” Any progress she had made to calm down was shattered as she recounted what happened. Her voice cracked and broke with hiccups and sobs interrupting her every other word.
He just held her tighter, placing a kiss on top of her head as he rubbed her back and waited for her to calm down. He’s been through it before, he was the only person there when she experienced night terrors. What he did didn’t really matter, her mind was inconsolable in this state.
She was on edge the rest of the day. She didn’t go to school, and her dad left work as early as he could to be home with her.
She did calm down eventually. Somewhere in the time where she’d be in the playground at recess with Damian (who she’d have to ask the homework for). She watched Star the entire day, trying to take her mind off the man and the lady who had attacked her.
She wished to god it didn’t happen again. She didn’t want to go through the paralyzing fear and loss of control she felt both times, she didn’t want to cry in front of her dad about something he didn’t believe. She’s never believed in god, she was raised atheist, but she really hoped they were real and they’d stop it from happening.