*Dion*
An hour later, I am standing in Sunny’s bedchamber, watching as she sleeps. Unlike her companion in the room whose snoring reminds me of the arrival of a train, she is almost silent. In sleep, she looks almost as young and innocent as she had when I had first met her … only now the tiniest of furrows creases her brow as though even in dreams she worries about the children or is reliving her time in a madhouse.
I wish I could wipe away every moment of pain she has ever experienced.
I glance around at the sparse furnishings. Two beds that looks more like cots, small, narrow with
plain wooden bedsteads and thin mattresses. A small plain pine table beside each bed. A washbasin, mirror, and one straight backed wooden chair. Drab curtains at the window. Damn, the room is depressing.
A
