Your four-year-old has night terrors. They shake her, drench her in sweat.
Two nights ago, a shriek dragged you from the nightly argument with your wife. "The knife, daddy, no, no." You soothed her. Her eyes soon shut.
Last night, she cried, "Daddy, the hammer, not the hammer." Despite reassurances, fear lingered in her gaze.
Tonight, she simply screamed. A glance at your hands set her sobbing. Your wife rushed in, brusque, irritated. "What did you do? Shhh, sweetie, you're okay."
Rage curled your fingers into claws. "I didn't do anything," you say. And you haven't.
At least not yet.
Pavor Nocturnus by I Saw Lightning Fall
Postscript: If the above widget is giving you trouble, visit ISLF's Soundcloud page or consider subscribing to the podcast to listen to audio recordings of this and other stories.