It had been a week since I dreamt about our little boy, since I could feel again. If I thought being able to feel again was great, I couldn’t be more wrong about it.
I had nightmares about those monsters every night. Luckily, I didn’t scream or trashed around in bed because every time I woke up, Damian was still sleeping soundly beside me, with his arms holding me close to him.
It was all for the best. I didn’t tell him that I had nightmares every night. I didn’t want him to worry. He was making sure that I wasn’t traumatic, he did everything he could to make me feel loved, to make me happy. I couldn’t burden him with stories of my nightmares.
We still hadn’t talked about what happened to me during my kidnapping. He didn’t ask me about it, and I didn’t tell him about it. He might have known or had an idea what those monsters did to me, I was sure of it. I knew from Marco that Damian and Max were the ones who found me through Clarissa.
