Chapter 4 - Scars and Whispers
A month after that horrifying evening, life began to form a new, fragile rhythm. Theo was completely back to his chubby, giggling self, blissfully unaware of how close he had come to the edge. But Maisy carried invisible scars.
She stopped sleeping in her own room. Every night, she dragged her sleeping bag into Theo’s nursery, sleeping right beside his crib with a flashlight held tight in her hand. Any loud noise would make her jump, and she looked at the woods behind our house with a mixture of fear and intense vigilance.
"She's suffering from acute trauma," the child psychologist, Dr. Vance, told me during one of our sessions. "She acted like an adult hero when she needed to, but now her little brain is trying to process the terror. She feels responsible for his safety at all times."
"How do I help her be seven again?" I asked, my eyes wet.
"Give her agency," Dr. Vance advised. "Show her that the world is safe again, and that she doesn't have to carry the burden alone anymore."
May you like
I decided to start by healing the rift between our family. Joanne had been staying at a small apartment near the rehabilitation center where my father was undergoing daily physical therapy. She was terrified to ask to see the kids, believing I would never forgive her.
One Saturday afternoon, I packed the kids into the car and drove to the rehab center.
