His yelling woke me up. I immediately got out of bed and went into the living room. He was sitting up on the couch, alternating between yelling and crying. It was the sixth time this week, and it was Saturday. "Hey, Ben, shh... it's okay." I sat next to him and pulled him close to me, holding him.
His only response was to cry.
I didn't know what exactly he saw in his nightmares that woke him up because he wouldn't talk to me, or anyone for that matter. I could only imagine. He had been waking up almost every night since that day, and it was starting on his fourth week with me.
Rubbing his back, he calmed down slowly, but I didn't blame him. Seeing your dead parents... I knew what it was like to see a father dead by his own hand. Seems like it runs in the family, I thought. But what a thing to pass on to your child. Stroking his hair, I asked, "You wanna come sleep with me again, kiddo?"
He didn't respond, which I expected, but he didn't move either, which I wasn't expecting. Looking at his face, I saw his eyes were closed. He had fallen back to sleep. I smiled and shook my head.
At least he was safe.