Whispers of a Broken Halo by Abbi Glines

He was sitting up in bed, eyes wide open, screaming but not moving or acknowledging my being there. The first time this had happened, it had terrified me. I was sure something awful was wrong with him. The pediatrician had assured me that night terrors were common and not to be alarmed.

I went to his bed and had a seat beside him, then pulled him into my arms. His screaming didn’t stop, and like the times before, my heart hurt because I couldn’t stop this for him. I wasn’t surprised when I heard the other bedroom door in the apartment swing open. There was no sleeping through one of Cullen’s night terrors.

Rio’s tall form filled the doorway. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep but alert for someone who wasn’t used to being woken up in the middle of the night.

“Night terror,” I replied. “He has them occasionally.”

Rio didn’t ask any more questions. I had expected him to, but instead, he walked farther into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. I rocked Cullen back and forth as his screaming began to subside and his eyes closed. He leaned back against me, and we remained that way for several moments.

“He’s fine now,” I told Rio. “I’ll stay with him the rest of the night. It seems to calm him more in his sleep if he’s not alone.”

Rio didn’t move, and I thought I was going to have to tell him to leave when he finally nodded. “Okay. Can I get you anything?” he asked me.

That was such a foreign question to me. I blinked several times, then shook my head. I had never been asked if I needed something before. Times like this, I had always figured things out on my own. Tory hadn’t been here the last three times he had his night terrors, and I was beginning to think that was what triggered them. Her absence and his uncertainty about when she would come home.

“I’ll leave this door open and mine. If you need anything, just call for me. I’m a light sleeper,” he said.

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

Telling Rio March thank you wasn’t something I’d thought I would be saying and truly meaning anytime soon. Sure, he had stayed tonight, but Henley wouldn’t have given him an option. This kindness was something he was doing all on his own. It reminded me of the Rio I’d once known, and that was a dangerous slope.

I was tired and exhausted mentally from this day. That was all. I laid Cullen back down, then crawled under the covers beside him, keeping my arm around him so that he felt secure. I didn’t watch Rio leave but closed my eyes instead. However, I knew the moment he left, and I sighed wearily. Tomorrow, he would be gone, and this would be over.



It wasn’t the bright sun streaming through the blinds that woke me that morning. I was sleeping too deeply for something such as light to bother me. The small finger tapping my forehead was what pulled me from my slumber. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see Cullen’s small hand in front of my face as he continued to rap my head with his pointer finger.

“Umhmm,” I grunted, and he stopped.

“I’m hungry,” he said, fully alert, and I wondered how long he had been lying there, waiting on me to wake up.

“M’kay,” I muttered, then yawned, covering my mouth and stretching.

“Why are you in my bed? Did I have the bad terror dreams again?” he asked me, and I heard the concern in his voice even if my vision wasn’t great just yet.

I rubbed my eyes, then opened them to look at him. He had been with me at the doctor, and he knew about the night terrors even if he didn’t remember them.

“Yeah,” I told him.

He frowned. “You can go back to sleep if you’re tired,” he said.

The guilt he was feeling at having woken me last night was something no four-year-old should experience or even understand.

I threw back the covers and smiled brightly. “No way! I’m starving. How about waffles?”

“With silly faces?” he asked hopefully.

I had used berries to make a face on his waffles last time in hopes that he would eat the berries. He had as long as I added the syrup and whipped cream for the hair.

“Absolutely,” I told him.

“Yay!” he cheered and bounced out of bed, wearing his Spider-Man pajamas.

“Let me go to my room and put on some clothes instead of my pajamas, and I will meet you in there.”

“But you always cook breakfast in your pajamas,” he replied.

“Yes, but we don’t always have company,” I told him.

Although Rio had seen me in them last night, it had been dark in the room, and I had been holding Cullen. It wasn’t that they were revealing, but I didn’t feel comfortable, wearing silk pajama shorts and a silk tank top in front of him. Sure, he had seen me in much less at work, but that had been different. At least, in my head, it was different.

Cullen’s eyes widened when he was reminded of our company, and he hurried to the door. “Do you think he’s awake?” he asked me, stopping at his open bedroom door.

I doubted it, but what did I know of Rio’s sleeping habits? I shrugged. For all I knew, he could be gone already. If he had left without telling Cullen good-bye, I was going to need to add chocolate chips to those waffles and exchange the regular syrup for chocolate syrup to brighten his mood.

I was just walking out of the bedroom when Cullen called out, “He’s up! He’s in the kitchen, drinking coffee!”