My daughter's sleepwalking is getting worse

My daughter has always sleepwalked. When she was four she would just sleepwalk to our bedroom at night, crawl into bed, and sleep between us. When she was eight, it progressed to her walking around the house and going to the bathroom or brushing her teeth, only half awake and half asleep. She could do these things just fine on her own during the day, but for some reason at night, while she was sleepwalking, she insisted on wetting the bed and waking up both me and her father. (We assumed it was just a normal part of growing up.) When she was 10 years old, we moved into a new house. She was really excited about the move and didn't seem to be very upset about leaving her old friends behind, but her sleepwalking got exponentially worse almost overnight. She would go into the backyard at night and dig up all the flowers, go into the kitchen and pull all the utensils and plates out of the cabinets, and she even insisted on cooking in the oven. (Of course, she was only allowed to do this under my supervision, but I usually couldn't sleep knowing that she was wandering the house alone.) Then one night, she wandered off. She went into the backyard and never came back. We couldn't find her anywhere. We looked until we couldn't look anymore, and my husband finally suggested calling the police. But then she showed up, covered in dirt and twigs, and walking like a zombie. She said she had been walking for a long time and lost count of how long it had been since she left the house. I didn't bother pushing the issue, and even though I was worried she had been gone for what she stated had been 8 hours, I knew she was just sleepwalking and didn't realize how long she had been gone for. We chalked it up to a one time ordeal and none of us ever spoke of it again. But less than a week later, it happened again. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Each time she stated that it had been a very long time since she left the house, but she couldn't be more specific than that. One night she walked almost 10 miles. She didn't know where she was or where she was going. She said that she just followed the street and walked until she realized that she wasn't in our neighborhood anymore. I worried that she was going to get picked up by a weirdo or kidnapped. I watched her like a hawk. I even followed her on one of her escapades one night, to see if I could pinpoint exactly where she was going, but she always seemed to go to random places and do random things while she was out. She'd buy ice cream and eat it on the sidewalk, lay in someone else's front yard, or she'd walk around a park in circles for hours. I was exhausted by the third week of following her, so I gave up. I couldn't keep up with her. One night, she came into my bedroom at 3am, covered in mud and sweat. She had scratches on her arms and face and said that she had been out for 48 hours, but she had gotten lost and thrown out by security guards at a park on the other side of town. She said that she wandered the city for hours trying to find her way home, but eventually just decided to walk back. She didn't remember the exact route she took, or which park she was at. We chalked it up to her sleepwalking and both of us went back to sleep. It didn't happen again for a long time. In fact, we had almost forgotten that it had even happened. But one night, while my daughter was in the shower, I saw something. There, on the back of her neck, was what appeared to be a tattoo. I rubbed my eyes, thinking that I must be imagining it, but when I opened them again, it was still there. The inked letters spelled out a single word: "MOLLY". I tried to play it off cool, I didn't want her to know that I had been looking at her tattoos, so I decided I would just go about my day as normal and confront her later. I waited until that night, when we were alone again, and I casually brought it up. "How long have you had that tattoo?" I asked. "Huh?" She looked confused. "The one on the back of your neck, the word 'MOLLY'." "I don't have a tattoo." She replied. "Oh, okay. Then what is that on your neck?" I laughed. "I'm telling you, I don't have a tattoo! And my name is not Molly, it's Lila." I stopped laughing. "Your name is not Lila?" I repeated. "No, it's Molly." She said. I stared at her for a long time. And for a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes. Something primal, something menacing. But she blinked and it was gone. "You know what? I think I need to go to bed." I said, and I stood up to go into my bedroom. "Okay, goodnight mom." But something felt off. I locked the door to my bedroom and got into bed, but something felt off. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, tossing and turning in my covers, until I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, my husband and daughter were both in the kitchen, making breakfast. And something felt off. Both of them were acting very unusual, my husband was dancing around the kitchen to music that I couldn't hear, and Lila was staring into space, her eyes frosted over, and drool hanging from her mouth. She was holding something in her hand, but I couldn't see what it was. "MOLLY!" She kept shouting, and both of them would laugh and laugh. I tried to get their attention, but neither of them could see me. "MOLLY! MOLLY! MOLLY!" My daughter kept shouting, and I felt a sharp pain in my head. I sat up in bed with a start, and looked around. It was just a dream, it was just a nightmare. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. Then I heard another voice. "Who's Molly?" It said. I looked around the room, groggy and half-asleep, but I couldn't see anything. "Who's Molly?" It said again. "I don't know." I replied. "When did I get this tattoo?" I sat up in bed. "Lila?" "Can you help me?" And then everything went black.

My daughter's sleepwalking is getting worse

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