Oneshot

I have this problem that for some reason, I can't actually sleep.

An average human would be awake for 16 hours a day, provided they slept for the remaining 8 hours. While I've been strictly adhering to that rule in order to 'fit in' and be 'normal', these past couple of days tested my limit.

At first, they worked. Alcohol would quickly lull me to sleep and I'd complete my daily cycle no problem. However, I also knew it's not healthy to always rely on something, meaning, I needed an alternative. For this, the answer was obvious.

Companionship. A lover. A friend. Anybody would do. I didn't care who or what, I just chose on a whim. Sex was an afterthought, like a free coffee or milkshake once you completed your stamp card; it's just how I thought about it. People sought love to fulfill their classification as social animals and I'm not an exemption. I'm trying to fit in, remember? Of course, those flimsy connections left a lot of loose strands like hair and such but unlike those, an empty heart was way beyond a lint roller's capabilities.

But hey, in the end, that helped me sleep so I'm not complaining. Win some, lose some, right?

Yes and no.

The more I entertained those thoughts, the more it bugged me. Socializing was a double-edged sword. It's like medicine. On one side, you're now cured of your cold, then the next moment, your liver was gone. There's nothing to actually win when you think about it. Everything was nothing but a mere shift. Like a kaleidoscope, turning it simply gave you a new perspective and nothing else. Like a bandaid, the problem persisted somewehere.

So, in the middle of—oh. It's one a.m. I made it past midnight, yay? No.

Why? Because I may or may not have been woken up by a damned call at an ungodly hour. Irritated, I took it with full intention to yell at the caller when I realized it's not my phone. Too bad I've already picked it up. Might as well.

"Hi," A low yet playful voice cracked through the speaker. "I didn't disturb you, did I?"

"No," I was pulling at my hair so hard as I tried to fight the urge to either hang up or scream. Obviously you're not disturbing people by calling them in the night, asshole.

A sigh of relief came through. "Whew, thought I was the only one. Can't sleep too?"

I moaned a reply, exhaustion suddenly taking over me. Mentally lashing out could be an alternative. Never thought of that. Or maybe, I've used too much brain power. Meh, either way worked.

"Last night was amazing. Sorry, I jsut couldn't think of anything to talk about right now."

"It's alright."

There's a long pause. "Uh, so… I was just saying that it felt so good we might've exchanged phones. Haha, clumsy, I know."

"…"

"Uh, a little help here?"

"I'm not doing phone sex."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Quit shouting…"

"Sorry."

The line went silent. Save for the faint hum of the air-conditioner, the room was absolutely sound proof.

He picked up the conversation again. However, this time, to end it. "So, should I hang up?"

"Decide for yourself," I'm mostly calm now, perhaps due to the medicine. I thought I forgot to take it. Perhaps the mere sight triggered some sort of placebo. "Should've thought twice before calling, huh."

He laughed. "Yep. I'm the worst."

"We both are."

I forgot to check how long our call lasted but thanks to that interruption, I was able to hit that 8-hour sleep. Should I do the math? I doubt it. Maybe because of my lifestyle—let me rephrase that. Precisely because of my lifestyle, I daze out more often than I hoped. It's just that, as days went by, it occurred way too frequently. Sometimes, I could remember what I did, mostly though, it's just a long blank. Seriously, if this kept up, I might find myself in trouble.

Ding. Dong~

"Room service," the hotel maid bowed before entering my messy room.

I shrugged and let her do her thing, lighting up a cigarette in the meantime. It surely must've been awful for her, going here everyday, collecting underwear and sheets, simply because her services were already paid for in advance. In a way, I could relate to her. Our job was to endure. I wondered how she kept her sanity though.

Turned out, I didn't need to wonder long. A shimmer of silver caught my eye. She's wearing a ring. I winced at the sharp pain in my head. Strong lights hurt me.

Envy.

We're not the same. She had someone who truly loved her. A loving family perhaps? In amy case, she had something to cling to—a home per se. Meanwhile I continued struggling alone… while the storm continued to torment me and the swamp to consume me. Either sucked, but those were the choices I had.

Night had already fallen.

"Wow. So, I got a headache looking at the maid's ring and it's night already? What a world," I grumbled as I scratched my head in frustration.

Thankfully, there's food on the bedside table—warm, if I might add. Picking up the chopsticks instead of the fork, I ate only the greens and carefully left any meat I could spot on the dish when my supposedly free hand vibrated. Someone was calling. Again.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey," Another man. This one had a rich, commanding tone. "I was wondering where I left my other phone. Where are you?"

"At 3301," I answered, biting the end of the chopsticks. What's up with people using their 'lost' phones to talk to me? They never called before, so why now? Wait. I'm not dreaming now, am I?

"Good. If you, sigh. Please don't do anything weird with it."

I felt the corners of my lips twitch. Hell, if this was dream, maybe I could try and test something. Adjusting my vocal chords, I let out my sweetest, most alluring voice. "And what if I do?"

I heard a big gulp. This was a dream alright. "Sigh, I'm quite busy right now."

"So am I. People have been calling me a lot lately, you know?" I especially stressed the word 'a lot'. He wouldn't know. Nobody ever called me save for last night. It's just… how do I put it? To deliver the coup de grace?

"I'll come pick it up tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

He heaved a long sigh. "Fine. Later," Then he hung up.

Good news. It wasn't a dream.

The next day, my whole body ached. My wrists were red, my skin had bruises, it's awful. I could still taste the blood in mouth as the same maid came to perform her duties.

Yesterday, I sympathized with her. Today, I'm pissed off at her. While the clear signs of abuse were visible on my bare arms and legs, she never once spared a glance at me. Come to think of it, she never did look at me as far as I can remember. Was I also unworthy of her time? Did I fail to fit in? Would she notice? She would notice. It's only a matter of time.

"The food was exquisite as usual," I tried for small talk, hoping… begging for a reaction. All she needed to do was notice these marks and I'd be satisfied. A simple gesture, yet one seemingly impossible to accomplish.

"I," Her tiny voice was drowned out by the vacuum cleaner's whir.

That's when it snapped.

***

Cecily put on her round glasses and checked herself once more in the mirror. Her smile faded once she remembered that specific guest. Ah, she thought. I'd never be as beautiful as her again today. But that's fine. After all…

"The hell are you smiling there for?" A female lay at the king-sized bed, her pale skin laced with streaks of red and patches of black and blue.

Cecily took a step back. Her glare was simply too overpowering. A pair of hands caught her shoulders before she tripped over nothing.

"Don't scare her, Ciel," A man said. "Can't you see she's still adjusting?"

A man sitting at a stool fixed his glasses, his business suit free from creases. "Cendric, you can't go on seducing each and every person you come across. Learn some tact."

Cendric smiled, while Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Is this it? The result of our efforts?" She indicated the timid girl with her chin.

"Ciel, don't be so hard on her."

"Hard? Hah, do you think someone like her would survive? Someone weak like her is a detriment. I'm calling it now."

"Well, that's…"

"You two. Enough. Sigh, even me, the supposed brains of this group couldn't begin to form a sound strategy to help. The fault lies on me."

"Then get rid of her. Isn't the solution so simple?"

"Woah, you know how hard that is. I mean, I have schedules. We all have schedules."

"I'd love to give my time for some good sleep, but you know how expensive this lifestyle could get."

"I need my thrill. I won't negotiate."

"Nobody's gonna take that away, Ciel. And Cedrick, you keep doing your stuff. We need a lot of money. Leave the logistics to me."

Hearing their heated discussion, Cecily covered her ears. She couldn't understand. She didn't need to hear all of this. Couldn't they discuss all of these things once she's asleep? She collapsed on the floor trying to make herself smaller. "I…"

Ring! A phone was ringing. Cecily shot a glance to the source of the sound. This time, it's her phone. She picked the call up.

The room fell silent.

"Hi!" A woman's voice came from the other end of the line. "Miss Cradle Mires, right?"

"Um.."

The other end was silent for a while. "Oh, is it Miss Cecily Mires I'm speaking with?"

"Y-Yes."

"Hmm, I see. May I speak with Miss Cradle?"

Cecily nervously looked around the empty room. Men's and women's clothes of various styles were placed all over. On one hand, a neatly folded business attire was atop a table. Then there's also several polo shirts with gaudy designs strewn over the backrest of a chair. The spacious bed, moist with sweat and other questionable fluids, had a pair of sexy lingerie lying beside a cute, bear-printed pajama set. There's also a bunch of other styles of clothing littered everywhere, as if the room was a changing room for dozens of people. No. Many people lived here.

Eleven toothbrushes, seven kinds of toiletries, nineteen perfume scents. Even the four different makeup kits had at least three different brands on them. She remembered how hard it was to tidy all these things up everyday.

No.

The cleaning wasn't the hard part. The real challenge was to keep quiet. Silence was indeed golden. Once she entered that train of thought, a realization hit her.

She scrambled to get a box hidden underneath a compartment on the dresser. Opening it, a bunch of cellphones were there. They all had varying levels of wear and models. Some were old and carelessly used, while others were peppered with stickers, sequins, and whatnot. Cecily quickly yet carefully sorted through the phones to search for a particular unit. Unfortunately, she reached the bottom without seeing it.

Her heart sank.

"Hello?" The woman spoke again. "Are you still there, Miss Cecily?"

In a panic, she grabbed the medicine bottle lying nearby and swallowed some tablets. She needed to be calm. This too, shall pass. All she had to do was sleep.

The hand that held the phone lodt its grip causing the object to fall to the soft carpet, only to be picked up again. This time, the voice came in loud and clear. "This is Cradle speaking. Who are you?"

"Oh," the woman cleared her throat. "I'm Cassey Mires, you scheduled a house… well, this isn't a house so, a hotel consultation. I'm currently calling to check if you're in room 3301."

"You know Cecily?"

"Yes. She's… the maid assigned to your room and your room alone, right?"

Cradle laid her free hand up and gazed at her slender fingers. She knew Cecily. Interesting. "You're at the lobby, I take it? I'll be there in five."

Cassey chuckled. "Oh, you don't have to trouble yourself."

I am you, remember?

Cradle opened the box again, this time, her frantic search leaving a mess of phones scattered all over. It didn't take long though. She found it. She looked at her—Cecily's phone and searched the contacts. Soon enough, she found it.

Ciel Mires.

Cendric Mires.

Cedrick Mires.

Cecilia Mires.

Ced Mires.

All those names were familiar. Among ten or so others, Cradle identified all of them just as how each phone in the box corresponded to a name, each of them had made an appointment to Cassey Mires at one point or another.

She smiled wryly. "I see. So I took you in too."

A girl wearing a lab coat suddenly appeared before her. "You said you've been having trouble sleeping lately, right? That the pills weren't helping anymore," She caressed Cradle's hair. "You can stop taking in new personas, Cradle. I'll be your last."

"When? How? I… you shouldn't have done this, doctor!"

"You've hurt yourself enough. And those people—those personas you took in for the sake of getting a bit of rest, you can let them go now. I'll let you sleep. I'll cure you."

Cradle eyed the medicine bottle. "Was this the only way."

Cassey smiled.

***

The medical world was shook later on. The curious case of a serial murderer of a myriad faces, Cradle Mires, became a subject of study for medical science. The murderer's quirk was to target people whose name sounded near hers and had a surname of 'Mires'. Using an assortment of makeup and clothing found at the hotel room she stayed at, she'd then assume their lives perfectly, fooling everybody.

Due to the staff believing she's a mistress of the owner, Cedrick Mires, they refrained from getting near the room. Only one maid, Cecily, was allowed to enter. Unbeknownst to Cradle though, Cassey was in fact Cecily. The psychiatrist found a way to emulate her patient Cradle's disorder and used it to infiltrate her quarters resulting in her death.

"The main ingredient in order for all this to work was love with a sprinkle of luck, of course," claimed Cradle—now living under the impression she's Cassey Mires. "I closely observed her and her personas, waiting for someone reasonable enough to be talked to. I forgot the name but it's a man. He's willing to set up scheduled calls for the phones in order to mess up Cradle's sleep schedule. An 8-hour sleep, you see, was the only thing she found worthwhile in life. That's why a little disturbance led to Cassey's, my death and in the process of her trying to becomr me, I instead became her."

"It's like a possession, isn't it?" Cassey said in an interview. "I myself couldn't believe I was originally that Cradle Mires. I mean, all the legal documents, and the DNA results suggest I was Cradle, but personally, I knew for a fact I'm Cassey. I retook my licensure exams and I passed it without a hitch. That must mean something."

Currently, she's being monitored at a medical facility in case she went on a rampage once again. Even Cassey herself agreed with this decision.

In the last moment of the interview, she's asked if she feared she'd revert back to Cradle Mires and start murdering people once more. She said:

"More than that, you know what I fear now? It's the sound of a phone ringing. One that's not mine. Because by then, I'd know she's not satisfied with my service."