I was having a good dream.

It was about one of Daddy's stories. Mommy always told him not to tell them to me; I would "ask too many questions." Daddy said questions were a good thing. He told me the stories when Mommy wasn't around.

In my dream, I met the Dragon-man. He was just like in Daddy's stories- big and nice, almost like a green Santa Claus. I sat on his lap and he told me about his adventures against the evil dragon. I laughed and asked why a Dragon-man would fight a dragon. He said because he was a good dragon, and that was a bad dragon.

Then, suddenly, he started yelling. Another person was yelling back. I couldn't tell what they were saying- until I realized the voices were coming from outside my dream.

I woke up quickly and heard that it was Mommy and Daddy yelling. I felt the tears start welling up in my eyes as I jumped out of bed and walked into the living room with a blanket wrapped around me. I held my teddy, too, just in case he was as scared as I was.

They stopped fighting the moment they saw me. They always did. But this time things were even worse.

"D-daddy," I cried quietly, "are- you and Mommy getting a divorce?"

Both of them looked surprised, but not angry. That was good. Sophie said if they were not getting a divorce, they would not be angry.

"Honey," Daddy said quietly, "of course we aren't getting divorced. Where did you even learn about that?"

"Sophie told me," I sniffed. "She told me because she was worried her parents would get one."

Daddy laughed softly. "Well, Sophie watches too much TV. Her parents are the last people on Earth that would get a divorce," he said. "You can tell her that. As for us, you don't need to worry." Then he looked back at Mommy, waiting for her to agree. She nodded.

"Why don't you go on to bed," she said to Daddy, walking over to him. She stroked his cheek gently, which was odd, because usually Daddy was the one to do that to Mommy. Sometimes she would shiver and then he would smile.

He nodded, and I looked at him wondering why he was the one going to bed. Usually Daddy stayed up to explain things to me. He shrugged, apparently as confused as I was.

Mommy sat on the couch and motioned for me to sit on her lap. I did, a little scared. She stroked my hair. Daddy had showed me pictures of me when I was a baby (I was cute and little), and Mommy stroked my hair sometimes. But I'd never felt her do it as a big kid. It felt nice.

"Christina," Mommy said, "your Daddy and Mommy love each other very much. You know that, right?"

I nodded. They always told me they loved me and each other. One time I walked out of the bathroom at a fair, and they were outside kissing. Sophie would have turned away and said "ew," but I giggled because I thought it was silly. Mommy turned red and Daddy did it again because he knew I thought it was silly. I laughed really hard.

"Well," Mommy said, "do you know how much your Daddy and I love each other?"

I thought about it. They'd never told me that before. Now I was curious.

"No," I replied, "How much?"

Mommy leaned back a little. "Did you know that your Daddy's stories were true?"

I looked at her with wide eyes. "No!" I exclaimed, excited. "Dragon-Man is real? A-and the fire girl, and the evil dragon, and-"She hushed me.

"Yes, they are. In fact…" She paused, as if wondering if she should say what came next. "The 'fire girl' is Sophie's mom."

I gasped. "Then what about her da-"

"Her dad was once possessed by what your daddy is calling the 'evil dragon,'" she sighed, as if she didn't like to talk about it.

"He was the little boy!" I cried out. She made a motion to lower my voice, but it was hard. That would be like telling Brandon that Batman was his dad and expecting him to keep calm! Then again, Brandon wasn't ever calm.

"Now," Mommy said soothingly, "When your daddy and I were young- about eighteen-"

I cut in. "That's not young," I protested, "That's a big kid! A REALLY big kid!"

She smiled and I knew she was laughing on the inside. That's what Daddy called it, anyway- when she was smiling like that.

"Well. When we were around eighteen, your daddy and I witnessed firsthand the evil dragon being born."

I gasped again. "Why didn't you slay it right away?" I said, swinging my hands around as if holding a sword. Mommy pulled me back down into her lap gently.

"We didn't know how," she said. "Unfortunately, your daddy DID try to slay it anyway, which was very foolish of him because he didn't have a weapon."

"It sounds brave to me," I remarked. She looked down a little sadly.

"I suppose it was brave, but it was foolish all the same. The dragon cut your daddy's arm and messed it up."

I looked at her in wonder. "So that's why he has his arm brace!" I exclaimed, pronouncing the last words carefully. Daddy taught me them. They meant the big shiny thing wrapping around his arm. I learned my left and right because Daddy's arm brace was always on the left.

"Yes," she responded. "And after that, I felt very guilty inside."

"But Sophie said guilt was when you did something bad," I said.

"It is… and I did something terrible," she sighed. Tears started welling up in her eyes as she went on. "See, I was the one who caused the evil dragon to be born."

I looked up at her, surprised but confused. "But… that doesn't make any sense."

She continued to stroke my hair. "You learned in Kindergarten last week that a baby chick needs strength to break out of it's shell, correct?"

I nodded. Ms. Inky taught me that.

"Well," she went on, "the baby dragon got strength from negative emotions. Hate, jealousy… all the things we teach you to avoid."

Now I was even more confused. "But Mommy," I protested, "where did the evil dragon get those things from?"

She sighed regretfully. "That's what I'm saying- I used to give off great amounts of those bad things, and the evil dragon got strong because of me."

"But you killed it," I said. "Daddy says you killed the dragon."

She smiled a little. "I did, eventually- with your daddy's help."

I was quiet for a moment. It took a lot to make me quiet.

"Mommy," I finally asked, "Why are you telling me this? You never like it when Daddy tells me stories."

Brushing a wisp of hair out of my eye, she responded, "My point is that I usually get upset with your daddy because of something thoughtless or silly he does. But if I was thoughtless enough to cause something that would harm him, and he forgave me for that- I can certainly forgive him for anything he might do carelessly." She looked down at me, smiling. "And now, my little marshmallow, you need to get back to bed."

Hoping my good dream would come back, I nodded happily and went back to my room, quickly falling into a deep slumber to the sound of Daddy's snoring telling me that he had done the same.