Insomnia is a real pain! After dinner, I wanted to give mum and Jake some space to explore their feelings, so to speak. So, I told them I was heading to bed for an early night. No such luck, though. After changing into my pyjamas, I perch myself at my bedroom window. The world is quiet, with only a few spots of yellowing lights gleaming through the neighbours' windows.

Times like these, I wish my mum would let me have television in my bedroom. She swears by a book she read once, that it interrupts with sleep patterns, or something like that. I don't think it'd make much difference to the quality of sleep I've been getting, though.

An involuntary yawn escapes my mouth as I raise my arms, stretching. Maybe I'll try those whale noises on YouTube and see if that helps. Can't hurt.

I hear footsteps rushing down the hallway outside my bedroom. Creeping over to the bedroom door, I carefully place my ear against it, listening earnestly. I wonder whether mum and Jake have finally got themselves together and hook up tonight.

At dinner tonight, they were both so obviously keen on each other, so intent on their secret glances that they thought no one else could see. I doubt they even saw my multiple eye rolls or when I had put my finger in my mouth and pretended to vomit. Olivia laughed, though. At least she thought I was funny.

The click of a door shutting sounds. Ever so quietly, I open my door, being careful to stay silent, just in case - I don't want to interrupt them if they're in the middle of something. A fleeting glance towards the guestroom reveals no signs of occupancy. I look further down the hall towards my mother's room. The door's closed, but light emits from underneath the doorway. A smirk creeps across my face, and my heart skips a beat at her success. I must remember to congratulate her in the morning.

But then another set of footsteps resounds as they travel up the stairwell. Hurriedly, I close the door and return my ear to the back of it. These steps are heavier. It's probably just Jake. Confused, I open the door ever so slightly, peaking out, just as Jake strolls past.

"Good night, Aislinn," he says, as he enters the guestroom, alone. And I close my door without a word.

I lay on my bed, both confused and exhausted, staring at the ceiling. Utter disappointment pits in my stomach. If my mum was going to date anyone, she could do much worse than Jake. He's nice, funny, and, better yet, happy to agree to my mansion's searching endeavours.

That reminds me, we didn't make any plans to go to Lakeview Hollow tonight. Check - I add another mental note to my growing list of things to do.

Counting sheep might be worth a try. One, two, three... Nope, that doesn't work either. Come on! I just want to sleep. Is that too much to ask?

The clock ticks over, slower than ever. I roll over from my back to my left side and bundle up a second pillow, cuddling it as if it were a life-sized teddy bear. I finally achieve comfort, my eyes growing heavier, until finally slumber settles over me.

Deep sleep brings dreams that dance around my mind. Prancing like deer, from one imagined idea to another. Then the fantasies fade, and the man is back again.

This time, we walk amongst a rose garden, flowers in bloom. The sweet scent surrounds me as I breathe in the aroma. A cool breeze whips my hair, and I raise a hand to free my line of sight. The man gently places a blue silk shawl over my shoulders, and I grip it with my other hand, so not to let it fly away.

After walking silently for a long moment, we approach a bench. The man waves his arm gently, indicting for me to take a seat. As I do, I realise that I'm wearing a long flowing gown, with capped sleeves, and satin bow hugging my waist. Lowering myself to the seat, my eyes raise and meet with his.

"What is this place?" I say, curious.

A delicate smile raises at the edges of his mouth. "My dear, this is your rose garden."

My brows furrow in confusion. "I don't understand."

The man's head tilts forward slightly, and a single eyebrow raises. "Aislinn," he says, softly. "I need your help."

Shaking my head, I reply apologetically, "I don't know what that means. I don't know how to help you."

"Yes, you do, Aislinn. Think," he says, urging me to contemplate further.

I move around in my seat, looking one way then the other, trying desperately to put the pieces of this dream-puzzle together. What am I missing here?

He points to something in the distance. My eyes squint, trying to decipher what exactly I'm looking at, but all I can see are gardens and... wait, what's that? The lake? Apprehensively, I move closer to the location. A dock? Why? What does that mean?

I search all around me, trying to figure out the riddle. But all I see before me is a flagstone path leading to the dock and rose bushes lining either side. The mansion stands behind me, so large that it feels daunting in that moment. Somewhere between the rose garden and the dock, the man disappears, and I'm more lost than ever.

An icy breeze hurls through my bedroom window, waking me sharply from my dream. I forgot to close it before heading to bed; I suppose. I grunt, dragging myself over to the window, slamming it closed.

The night remains a dark inky black. I wonder what time it is. My phone sits in its usual spot by my bedside. I pick it up - 3 am! What the heck?!

Just then, a tapping sound comes from my window. A shiver runs down my spine as the hairs on my arms prick up. I squint, trying to see the cause of alarm, but in this darkness, I can't see anything but the outline of my furniture.

Tip toeing over to the window, another sound catches my attention. Footsteps in the hallway? I stop in my tracks. Mum's never up this late, and the sound isn't heavy like Jake's earlier tonight. I glance over at the window, deciding to abandon that idea. Instead, I head for my bedroom door.

When only a few steps away, I hear the tapping sound again. This time, at my door. The faint tap, tap, tap resounds.

"Mum?" I say in a whisper, but only silence answers me.

I shuffle closer and repeat myself. "Mum, is that you?" Still nothing.

I clench my hand to my chest, taking a moment to consider my options. There's only two other people here in this house, and I doubt either of them would knock on my door at this hour. Recalling the footsteps from this afternoon, I consider the possibility of a reprise. Could it be the man? The ghost from my dreams? The ghost from the mansion? If it is, I doubt I'd be in any imminent danger. Mustering up the courage, I take another step forward and turn the handle.

The hallway is even darker than my bedroom. The moonlight that filters through my window, too soft to reach my current location. Nothing. The bathroom, perhaps? I walk the short distance, opening the door. Again, nothing and no one. Maybe it's just my imagination, after all? Or maybe my mother's right, and the stress is finally catching up with me?

Shaking my head, I right myself, ready to return to my room. Another gush of icy cold air engulfs me in the hallway, but there are no windows or doors along here. I shiver, my arms prickling with goose bumps once more. Then something catches my eye.

What's that? I lurch forward, trying desperately to see. Something white, wispy, transparent. Like a sheer scarf floating through the air, having escaped its owner on a windy day. With both hands raised, I rub my eyes and survey the area further.

I watch in disbelief as the mist draws closer. Dread fills me, heart beating faster than a race car. Move, damn it! But my body betrays me, unbudging, locked into position. My eyes widen like plates as it inches closer until finally it surrounds me. I imagine this is what it feels like to be inside a cloud - cold, damp, musty.

My legs remain steadfast as something lingers near my side, brushing against my arm and face. A soft whisper in my ear, "Aislinn."

As my name hangs in the air, my heart races faster. The mist enveloping me seems to thicken, making it difficult to see beyond a few inches in front of my face. I swallow hard, my throat dry, and call out, "Who's there?" My voice quivers with both fear and curiosity.

Again, the coldness brushes against my cheek and another whisper comes. "Help him."

One thing was for certain - this woman's voice isn't the man from my dream, nor the mansion. And now, she refers to 'him'. Who is this woman, and who is she referring to? And what can I do to help? I'm just a teenager!

My voice strains in a whisper. "Tell me how to help."

The wind rushes around me like a hurricane, yet it remains silent. A third and final whisper comes, "Release him from what binds." The mist circles me once more, then dissipates as if it were never there.

Perplexed, I check both ends of the hallway. There's nothing but the black inkiness of the night. I return to my room, resting my head on the soft downy pillow.

As I lay in my bed, the mysterious encounter in the hallway replays in my mind like a haunting melody. "Release him from what binds." The words echo in the quiet darkness of my room, filling it with an eerie sense of purpose. My curiosity battles with fear, leaving me restless and wide awake.

I can't ignore the urgency of the message or the chilling presence that enveloped me in the hallway. If someone needs help, how can I turn away? But who is this person, and what's binding them? Could helping them put my life in danger? Questions swirl, like a whirlpool, pulling me deeper into the mystery.

With determined resolve, I reach for my phone, turning on its dim screen. The time reads 3:30 am. My mother and Jake are probably fast asleep, oblivious to the strange events unfolding in the house. I know I can't disturb either of them with this cryptic message; they'd think I've truly gone mad.

I decide to start by investigating the mansion—the one in my dreams. Maybe it holds some answers. As quietly as possible, I slip out of bed, careful not to wake anyone, and tiptoe to the window. Moonlight streams in, casting a pale glow on the room. I need to go back there, to the place in my dreams, to the rose garden and the dock by the lake.

Sleep evades me for the rest of the night.

As the first hints of dawn paint the kitchen in soft, pale light, I descend the stairs, my mind still tangled in the enigma of the hallway encounter. I move with careful steps, hoping not to disrupt the fragile quietude of the house that still slumbers.

A symphony of familiar sounds greets me upon my arrival. The rhythmic drip of the coffee machine, the clink of porcelain against porcelain, and the soft hum of the refrigerator fills the air.

Mum's morning coffee ritual is a precise choreography—a splash of milk followed by a measured sprinkle of sugar. Her spoon stirs clockwise three times before tapping twice against the rim of the sink. Mum occupies her usual spot at the table, her fingers wrapped around a steaming mug, her gaze heavy with the weight of a sleepless night. She brings the cup to her lips, closing her eyes as the first sip washes away some of the night's disquiet.

"Morning, Mum," I offer with a forced brightness, masking the curiosity and unease that remains.

She turns her head. Her smile is warm but weary. "Morning, sweetheart." Her voice carries a tinge of fatigue and her eyes flicker to Jake as he enters the room.

"Morning, Jake," she greets, though her tone holds a hint of something more complex as it simmers beneath the surface.

Jake, his hair mussed from sleep, greets us with a yawn. "Morning."

I watch the exchange between Mum and Jake, their silent communication telling of a night filled with unspoken tension. There's more to their relationship than meets the eye, and I wonder what unresolved emotions simmer there.

Mum, still focused on me, inquires about my night. "How'd you sleep, sweetheart?" Her motherly gesture, tucking a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, offers a fleeting sense of comfort amid the inexplicable events of the previous night.

I hesitate for a moment, torn between divulging the surreal encounter in the hallway and addressing the pressing matter of our mansion search. But the urgency of the latter prevails. "Not great," I admit with a weary sigh, allowing the exhaustion to seep into my voice. Mum's concern is palpable. Her brows furrow as she contemplates my ongoing sleep trouble, but there are more pressing matters at hand.

With a sense of urgency, I shift the conversation to our promised mansion expedition. "But let's set that aside for now. We need to figure out when we're going to search for the mansion, Mum, just like you promised."

Mum takes a moment, her gaze drifting upward as she considers the logistics. Eventually, her eyes return to mine, her expression thoughtful. "It really depends on Jake's availability, sweetheart, and when he can join us."

Jake, sensing the significance of the moment, chimes in with a fresh determination. "Whenever works for both of you. I can rearrange my schedule to accommodate. Whenever you're ready to return to Lakeview Hollow."

I seize the opportunity, my eyes locking onto Mum's with unwavering determination. "Let's make it this weekend, Mum. Does that work for you?" I ask, my voice carrying the urgency of our quest.

She hesitates only briefly, likely assessing her own schedule, before nodding firmly. "Yes, that should be fine."

I turn to Jake, ensuring he's as committed to our endeavour as mum and me. He nods resolutely. "Great. We'll make our way there on Friday after school, alright Mum?" My determination to secure her commitment is steadfast.

Mum finally speaks, her tone marked with a sense of purpose. "Yes, that should work."

I know there's another vital step to take. "And don't forget to call Maggie," I remind her.

Glancing at my watch, I snatch my schoolbag and sling it over my shoulder, the weight of the impending day settling on me like a leaden cloak. The door slams shut behind me, its echo reverberates in the quiet morning air as I hurry down the steps and onto the footpath. My mind is still a whirlwind of unrelenting questions. We have a plan for the mansion search, but uncertainty looms ahead. What secrets lay hidden within its walls, waiting to be uncovered? And can we even find the elusive mansion? I'm like a detective tasked with solving an impossible case, and the weight of it all pressing down on my shoulders.

Amid my thoughts of the mansion, my mind wanders to Mum and Jake, their complicated dance of emotions and missed opportunities. I'd expected them to get together by now, their chemistry undeniable. In my eyes, they're a perfect match, and I feel a pang of disappointment that they haven't taken that leap, yet. Jake, with his rugged charm, seems like an ideal partner for my mother, who's beautiful and kind in her own right. It's a match that makes sense, and I can't understand why they're still dancing around it.

Shaking my head, I chuckle at the irony of it all. Dating drama isn't confined to the teenage years, it seems. My amused guffaw draws a strange look from a passing neighbour, and I quicken my pace, leaving behind the unspoken judgment.