Two.

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Sleep depravity was a hell of thing. Anna felt like a zombie, her limbs and brain fully awake as she laid like a stiff log. Her mind gently slipped from its sleep state, slow and unwelcomed. If that wasn't the worst feeling on earth, Anna didn't know what was.

One eye eased open, crusted with eye matter, and then the other. She looked over at the digital clock sitting on her bedside table. The moment she saw the red lights blazing '6:00 A.M.', she almost groaned aloud. Yet, that simple primal noise was too much for her in her sleep deprived state and so she settled for a soft sigh as she mustered all the strength in her body to pull herself upwards.

She hated this regular routine. After falling into bed at four this very morning, she'd hoped her body would be too tired to attempt waking up at six on the dot. Yet, here she was, rising out of bed like a creature from the earth. And she knew there was definitely no hope of going back to sleep now.

She'd always written it off as a part of her personality. Something told her that it had to be something bigger than that, something more than just a personality trait. Especially since she hated it so much. But no matter how much she thought about it, she just couldn't figure it out.

Anna sighed, staring blankly up at the ceiling as the question rushed through her head. She'd distinctly remembered visiting the doctor when she couldn't deal with it any longer. But even the trained medical professional couldn't figure out what wired her to act so oddly. She could have fallen asleep at 5:59 on the dot and as soon as the clock struck six she was springing up like a damn clockwork machine. And that small amount of sleep did nothing to keep her energized to face the day. As a result, she'd tried to make it a habit to go to bed at a reasonable hour, but with Thomas any hope of that soon fell away.

Anna pushed her feet over the side of her bed and got up. With her eyes still crusted half closed, she trudged along, making her way to the adjoined bathroom. Surely, some cold water on her face would succeed in waking her up some. And if that didn't work, she had an unopened package of instant coffee beckoning to her with its tantalizing phantom smell from the kitchen. If all else failed, coffee would do the trick.

She switched on the light and threw a hand over her face when the bright light became too much for her unaccustomed eyes. Reaching forward, she stumbled about, trying to make her way to the face basin. Anna quickly splashed cold water on her face, rubbing away the eye matter, but it little to wash away the exhaustion behind her eyes. Admitting defeat, she grabbed a towel from the rack by the basin and wiped away the excess water.

Anna fought the fatigue as she staggered her way out of her bedroom and into the living room. She made her way to the very back, where the raised panel sectioned off a decent sized kitchen with two overhead lights hanging above. Light flooded the kitchen with a flip of a switch.

As quickly as she could, Anna located her coffee. She ripped through the package, brought forth two packets of coffee, and set about making it.

Thomas always told her to lay of the coffee. Even now she could hear his voice echoing in her head, telling her that all that coffee was bad for her. She would ignore him every time he said it, at most acknowledging what he said with a small nod. But she never listened to him. Without at least two cups of coffee, she was as useless in this state as a sack of lumpy potatoes.

While she stood impatiently waiting for her coffee to brew, the doorbell rang. Anna whipped around in the direction of the door, narrowing her eyes. She never got house visits. So, who the hell could that be?

Keeping her eyes on the door, she slowly reached under the kitchen island and located the glock she kept taped underneath it. She held it downward, the safety already off. Anna tiptoed towards the door, keeping her eyes trained on the frame just in case the person at the door decided to pick his way in. Once at the door, she reached up and looked through the peephole.

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