She suddenly screamed.
After that, I became terrified of leaving her alone at night.
Evan was worried too.
He started sleeping in her room whenever she had a particularly bad night.
At first, I appreciated it.
It meant I could finally get a few hours of sleep.
But then something changed.
A few months later, Evan began leaving our bedroom almost every night.
Sometimes before midnight.
Sometimes around two in the morning.
Sometimes at exactly 3:17.
I noticed because I couldn’t sleep.
One night, I woke up and reached across the bed.
Empty.
“Evan?”
No answer.
I walked downstairs.
The couch was empty.
The kitchen was dark.
Then I saw a thin line of light underneath Emma’s bedroom door.
I opened it.
Evan was lying beside her.
One arm was around her shoulders.
His other hand was resting on the nightstand.
“Evan?”
He immediately opened his eyes.
“She had another nightmare.”
I looked at Emma.
She was sleeping peacefully.
“How long have you been here?”
He hesitated.
“Maybe an hour.”
Something about his answer bothered me.
But I didn’t know why.
The next morning, I asked him about it.
He kissed my forehead.
“Carrie, she’s scared. I’m trying to help.”
“I know.”
“Then trust me.”
I wanted to.
God, I wanted to.
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