The Insomniac Sought Sleep

All she wanted was a good night’s sleep. Not that bullshit that happened when she closed her eyes for hours on end to keep them from turning to stone. “Curse him! He cursed me… Curse him! He cursed me…” was all she thought while a million fucking sheep jumped every kind of fence imaginable. 
She tried everything within her reach to do more than slumber; mere minutes of shallow, timid abandon before the hands of him, that dreaded ghoul of a father, were on her again tearing her apart. Her much needed sleep scattered into intervals of long, fearful vigilance and short, tepid sleep. 
“My father, my first, I hope you burn like my eyes do… My father, my first, I hope you burn like my eyes do…” She had the habit of slurring words of vindication like mantras that gave voice to the festering inside: her need of retribution.

She never had any. In death he cursed her.

Even as she had been exposed in court; his stain, her scars bare for all. After she finally shed his name and knew joy for the first time thinking the State, her new father, would grant her heart’s prayer at the hands of a thousand criminal angels: to punish the sin in proportion. He died to curse her.

And how? Her attorney told her; it drove her mad, “He died, Justine. Singing Silent Night he died. He’s singing in hell now”.

With a lullaby in his stinking teeth, one she knew start to revolting finish. She would hear him singing every night, as he dragged his feet to her room, while she clawed at her ears in an attempt to negate reality. Her nights were never silent.

A triumphant proclamation from her idiot attorney gave voice to the curse of insomnia the monster conjured from beyond.

She lost sleep. He took it with him.

(Thank you so much for reading the whole thing! This is a teaser for a story that will only go deeper and darker! Still deciding where is the best medium for this. I welcome all advice and critique!)