Broken

• Chapter 73 •

- AURORA -

I look down at my daughter and let out a shaky breath, squeezing her tightly. A flashback plays in my head.

Clementine's body is drenched in sweat, she wakes up screaming and crying again. I sit up with a hammering heart, alarmed by her sudden outburst. I surprisingly fell asleep tonight, while most nights I can't. Images of Sugar and Derek terrorize my brain. But Clementine? She's been like this for months, and I have no idea what's wrong with her.

I pull her into my arms. "Minty, sweetie... Shh, you're safe. Honey, what's wrong? You're safe, I promise. Breathe," I plead with her.

She opens her eyes in shock, they shine brightly through the darkness. They almost look black. They are an endless depth of ink, sorrow, and pain. How can a child hold so much pain in her eyes? I cannot see the whites of her eyes nor the vessels that flow through them. They are depths of Tartarus holding a thousand souls.

They are not like Derek's eyes the night he murdered Sugar. Not soulless nor lifeless. Instead, they are like two pristine stones of onyx that light up with a blue flame when touched by the moonlight.

She hugs me tightly and cries into my chest, my throat tightens. Why won't she tell me what's wrong? What on earth is she dreaming about every night that's making her this way?

I googled it, and apparently, it's normal for children to have nightmares and cry. I know that. But to wake up shaking, sweating, crying and shrieking every night for months? That's a sign of trauma. And I feel so terrible for not knowing what it is that's traumatizing her so terribly.

"Baby talk to me, what's wrong?" I stroke the back of her head, this usually calms her.

"N-nothing, I—I just had another b-bad d-dream," she stammers through a muffled voice, face pressed up against my chest.

I sigh in defeat as my heart aches for her. Why won't she talk about it? Is this normal? God, I hope it passes.

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"Are you okay, baby?" my voice wavers.

She nods and looks up at me, her eyes are the same as they were that night. My heart aches, I still don't know why she had been having terrible dreams. How do I miss so much? How do I let these things slip by, how do I let my daughter get hurt repeatedly?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head. "I really am okay. I'm not just saying that to make you feel better," she shrugs.

I look into her eyes, and I can tell she's being truthful.

"I'm so sorry for everything he has put us through. I'm sorry I let him into my life, into ours," I wish I could turn back time.

There are so many things I would've prevented and done differently. But had it not been for Derek, I wouldn't have Clementine. Perhaps I wouldn't have Brandon, either.

I suppose everything happens for a reason.

I'm determined to change. To be a better mother. I'm determined to fix us. Save us. I tell her this, and a faint smile plays on her lips.

"I'd like that..." she whispers, on the brink of tears.