I'm a single mother and I was working nights as a parking meter attendant while trying to provide for my teenage son, Ethan. It wasn't easy, but I had no choice. One thing that always bothered me was the toll my work took on our time together. I hardly saw him during the nights, but I trusted he would take care of himself while I was away.

One morning, as I returned home from work, I noticed Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes heavy with sleep. It seemed odd since it was still early in the morning. I brushed it off, thinking he must have had a restless night. But as the days passed, I began to notice more peculiarities. Ethan became increasingly irritable, forgetful, and exhibited strange behavior associated with severe sleep deprivation.

One night, when I accidentally walked in on him stepping out of the shower, I couldn't help but notice the numerous bruises covering his body. My heart skipped a beat, and fear gripped me. How did he get those bruises? What was happening to him?

The following morning, I found him with a bruised face, his eye blackened and his lip swollen. Panic surged through me as I realized something was seriously wrong. I rushed him to a doctor, hoping for answers, but all medical tests showed no signs of physical ailments. The doctor suggested it could be psychological and recommended a counselor.

Desperate for answers, I reached out to my brother, Detective Mark Collins, who was also Ethan's uncle. Mark promised to investigate and provide any help he could. As a detective, he had the means to delve into matters that others couldn't.

A few days later, while Ethan was at school, I received an unexpected visit from Mark. He looked weary and troubled. Without wasting a moment, he sat me down and informed me of the troubling developments. Other worried parents had been reporting similar cases of their sons disappearing at night, only to return home battered and bruised.

Mark had taken charge and started a dedicated investigation into the matter. He revealed that he had been working tirelessly for a whole week, following leads, interviewing witnesses, and searching for any clues. However, despite his efforts, he admitted that he had made absolutely no progress. The cases were shrouded in mystery, leaving him frustrated and filled with a sense of helplessness.

The weight of the situation settled heavily upon me. It wasn't just Ethan. There were other families going through the same ordeal, and no one had answers. The fear and anxiety grew stronger within me as the realization sank in that our struggle was far from over.

I thanked Mark for his dedication and his relentless pursuit of the truth. As he left, we exchanged a knowing glance, silently promising to continue the fight together.

Days turned into sleepless nights as I anxiously awaited any updates from Mark's investigation. Meanwhile, I juggled work, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for Ethan. But the underlying fear and uncertainty gnawed at my every thought.

One thing became clear—we were running out of time. The nights stretched on, each one bringing new nightmares and unexplained bruises on Ethan's body. I couldn't bear to see him suffer, and I knew that I had to be his protector, his shield against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

With every passing day, the sense of urgency grew stronger. We had to uncover the truth, find the source of this malevolent force that tormented our children. When the police put the investigation on hold - however - I was left with the fears from the beginning.

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Frustrated and worried, I took time off work and stayed home, determined to uncover the truth. I kept a watchful eye on Ethan, making sure he didn't wander off during his sleepwalking episodes. One night, I followed him discreetly as he made his way to an abandoned house in our neighborhood.

My heart pounded in my chest as I peered through a crack in the wall and witnessed a chilling sight. Ethan stood among a group of other teenage boys, their eyes closed, their bodies moving with unnatural precision. As if puppets under someone's control, they began to fight, mercilessly punching and assaulting each other.

Fear overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to act. I called Mark, my brother and the detective, pleading for immediate help. By the time he arrived at the abandoned house, dawn was breaking, and the boys had dispersed, returning to their homes, leaving behind a trail of unconsciousness and injuries.

Realizing that no one else could protect Ethan but me, I made the difficult decision to quit my job and find new employment during the day. I couldn't risk leaving him alone anymore. I feared the unknown force that controlled those boys in their sleep, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come for my son again.

As the days turned into weeks, my desperation grew. I sought guidance from every possible avenue, determined to find answers and protect my son from the relentless onslaught of the somnpugilist. It was during one of my counseling sessions that a breakthrough, albeit a terrifying one, occurred.

The counselor, Dr. Simmons, had been tirelessly studying Ethan's case, and after numerous discussions and examinations, they finally approached me with a chilling revelation. Dr. Simmons explained that they had been consulting with experts in the field of sleep disorders and unearthed a disturbing theory.

With a serious expression etched across their face, Dr. Simmons told me, "Based on all the evidence we've gathered, the peculiar symptoms, the sleepwalking episodes, and the pattern of physical injuries, we believe your son is a victim of a rare and malevolent phenomenon known as the somnpugilist."

I had never heard of such a term, and the counselor continued to enlighten me. They described the somnpugilist as a mysterious entity or force that thrived on the vulnerability of sleep-deprived individuals, manipulating their subconscious minds to engage in brutal and uncontrolled acts of violence.

My heart sank as the weight of this revelation settled upon me. The realization that Ethan was not only a victim of his own body's betrayal but also a target of something otherworldly sent shivers down my spine. It was as if we were caught in a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Dr. Simmons assured me that they would continue researching possible remedies and solutions. However, their tone revealed a hint of helplessness, as if they too were grappling with the enigma that was the somnpugilist.

The knowledge that my son was being tormented by a malevolent force beyond our comprehension both terrified and galvanized me. I resolved to do everything in my power to protect Ethan, to shield him from the clutches of this insidious entity that sought to destroy him.

Together with Detective Mark Collins, we delved deeper into the lore surrounding the somnpugilist, seeking ancient texts and obscure references that might hold the key to its defeat. Each day brought us closer to understanding this dark force and formulating a plan to combat it.

The battle against the somnpugilist was far from over. We faced sleepless nights, relentless assaults on our sanity, and the fear that time was slipping through our fingers. But armed with newfound knowledge and unwavering determination, we pressed forward, ready to confront the somnpugilist head-on.

Now, I work at a small diner, my shifts aligned with Ethan's school hours. I rarely let him out of my sight, and I remain vigilant, constantly on guard. But deep down, I know that this battle against the somnpugilist, the sleep-fighter, can only last for so long. Darkness lingers, and the fear of the unknown looms, threatening to consume us both. With Mark's determination as both detective and uncle, we cling to hope, determined to unravel the mysterious and sinister forces that haunt our lives.

For Ethan's sake, for the sake of all the boys caught in this nocturnal nightmare, we would not rest until we unraveled the secrets of the somnpugilist and put an end to its reign of terror. Our journey would be treacherous, but the love of a mother, the devotion of an uncle, and the strength of our united front would serve as our guiding light through the darkest of nights.