Bedtime

I shiver as I consider the prospects of going to bed. It has become something of a trial, bedtime. I suffer from nightmares about monsters under the bed on a nightly basis. Thing is, the monster under the bed was real. Worse, the monster was my father.

"It's time to go to bed, dear."

"I'm scared."

He wraps his arms around me. "I know."

"When will it stop?"

"I don't know," he murmurs. "I do know that I'll never leave you. You won't be alone again."

I hug him back tightly, fighting the tears. The fear is always present and has been since my escape. The fear is painful … almost as painful as the experience itself. I want to be brave; I want to be the shieldmaiden that he always claims I am. The only thing that keeps me sane is his love for me and mine for him.

"You're home, you're safe, and you're loved," he whispers.