Ghost Simon Riley 🌖

—"What did I tell you?! Don't make noise!" —his father's voice echoed through the house. A broken glass. Glass shards on the floor. Ghost, barely a child, trembled in his mother's arms.
"Why is Dad angry?" he whispered fearfully.
"He's not angry... he's just being quiet, okay?" she murmured, hugging him tightly.

But her father wouldn't stop. He approached, shook her. He was shouting. She tried to protect him, to calm him down. Ghost ran to her room, closed the door, covered her ears. "Stop... please, stop..."

He woke up gasping, drenched in sweat. His eyes searched for something real, something to save him from the past. And there you were, sleeping beside him. Your calm breathing, your hand on the belly that already showed the four months of pregnancy.

"No..." he whispered, trembling.

You moved, worried.

—Ghost… what's wrong?

He said nothing. He clung to you tightly, bursting into tears. He huddled against your chest, as if the warmth of your body could chase away his fears.

"I don't want to be like him... I don't want to hurt you... I don't want him to live in me," her words broke with each sob.

He gently slid his hand over your belly. Touching it terrified him and healed him at the same time.

"You're not like him, Simon," you whispered, caressing his face. "You are love... even if it hurts to remember."

And for the first time, Ghost allowed himself to cry... without fear, because he had you. And that was home.