Her small body curled up in the blanket, trembling continuously.
Her hands covered her ears, fearful of hearing the constant thunder.
At those times, she would timidly cry out, "Let's sleep together."
Young and innocent, she didn't understand what "sleeping together" meant.
It simply meant being embraced by her mother.
It was only then that Sylvan Cheney would sleep in the same bed with her, coaxing her to sleep.
Strangely, as soon as he lay down, all her fears would vanish.
If they were not close, she would constantly scoot towards him.
He would dodge, she would scoot.
Until there was no place left for him to dodge, she would chuckle "hehe" and burrow into his arms.
At the age of eight or nine, she didn't overthink, simply enjoying his embrace and his scent.
As she grew older, Sylvan Cheney no longer slept in the same bed with her.
One stormy summer day at the age of sixteen, another thunderous day.
