“The night terrors started when I was eleven, after I started visiting my unprocessed trauma in the form of Martin Whitly,” he explained, still stroking Neal’s hair. “There was a while there when I wouldn’t speak all day but then I’d scream in the night. Thrashing, crashing out of bed. That was when we found my current therapist. But one night, shortly after I turned twelve, I got out of my room and down the stairs and out the front door. An early morning jogger tackled me out of the path of a truck, apparently. I remember waking up on the sidewalk to my mother freaking out. My therapist suggested the restraints around that time.”
Age eleven. From age eleven, Malcolm has been having night terrors, screaming himself awake to a family that had no idea what to do with it. Did he ever get to sleep in his mom's bed after one of those nightmares? Would she have been willing to risk it? The sheer loneliness of it makes Neal's eyes burn with tears.
"I'll always come back," he says softly. "Even if I need a break at some point, I will always come back to be with you."
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"I'll always come back," he says softly. "Even if I need a break at some point, I will always come back to be with you."
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He understands the connection profoundly.
He smiles softly. “I’ll be happy,” he says. “When you come back.”
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“If I close my eyes, you’ll stay with me?”
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The relief of knowing that’s true is somehow exhausting all on its own.