My mother and father are shouting and yelling at each other as usual. "Enough!" my father shouts. Fists clenched tightly at his side, he is raging with anger. He attempts to disarm the gun from my mother by forcefully grabbing her arm. But, he isns on the ground. His heart stops beating. Blood pools from his head on the carpet. My mother shot him. No, she murdered him.

Then, she comes to me. A sinister smile across her face, she pushes me against the wall and roughly puts the gun to my head. The muzzle is still warm from its last shot at my father. Her crazed, bloodshot eyes carve daggers into me. "I love you, Natalie,"she says with an eerie calmness. Her declaration feels fake, a desperate attempt to let me know shet be doing this. My heart is in my throat and my vision blurs with tears. I try to calm myself. I can stay strong. I will survive. Suddenly, I hear the click of the trigger and everything goes black.

I jolt awake in cold sweat. My heart beats at a million miles a second. Panting, I try to even my breathing. Don't panic. Don't panic. I tell myself. You're alive. I check my forehead just to make sure there isn't a gaping bullet wound. I sigh with relief. It was only a dream. Or a nightmare. A traumatic reminder of my childhood. The day my mother killed my father. The memory has threatened my sleep ever since. My body aches from exhaustion but I know sleep is not an option.

Andrew stirs awake beside me. "Nightmare?" he asks, his voice heavy with sleep. I nod, afraid that I might burst into tears if I speak. I feel so childish. Even at thirty years old, my nightmares still hold power over me. His eyes filled with concern, he beckons me closer and I obey. Andrew wraps his around me as I rest my head on his chest. I hear the steady beat of his heart and I am so grateful to be alive. To be here with him. In his arms are where I feel the safest.

He massages my back, relaxing my tense muscles with his soothing touch. Calmness floods my veins and everything is right in the world. He gently kisses my forehead and whispers, "I love you, Natalie Grace Prior". Instead of fear, my heart swells with love. With every fiber of my being, I know this man loves me. I never truly felt loved until I met him, not even my own parents. His strength and devotion are what made me fall for him. This man, my husband. I wrap my arm around him and declare,"I love you too, Andrew Roy Prior" . We stay like that for what seems like forever until we drift off to a peaceful slumber.