“Daddy!” I yell into the cold winter night to where he was standing, but he’s gone. Then the snowstorm starts, and I can’t see anything.

White wind is all around me. I just keep screaming his name, but he never answers.

One last hug was all I wanted.

I try to breathe a little slower the way my therapist taught me to bring myself back to the here and now.

He disappeared after I pictured him in the window, and I never saw him again.

I found out later he had left the country that night and fled to America, where he was later murdered.

For a few years, I dreamed of hearing him screaming my name to come and help him and what his screams of pain might have sounded like. The vision of what I imagined happened when he was shot. But finally, I got past that and moved on with my life, putting the pain behind me.

“Fuck,” I curse, slamming my fist into the pillow next to me. I don’t want to go back to this screwing up my head. I haven’t seen a therapist for at least ten years, and I don’t want to have to go back there.

Rolling onto my back and looking up at the ceiling, it dawns on me that I’m not in my bed. Not even my temporary one.

“Ughhh, my second nightmare for the day… Forrest.” It’s like the universe is torturing me.

Well, no point lying here all day complaining about it. That’s not who I am. I tackle things head-on, and that’s what I need to do here too.

Throwing back the covers, I drag myself out of bed and head into the bathroom.

One look at myself in the mirror is all I need to know.

“You look like shit, bitch. Going to need some serious work this morning to look presentable for the world.” I roll my eyes at myself in the mirror and then turn to start the shower and get on with it.

Walking down the hallway from my room, I have no idea what time Forrest gets up or leaves for work. It’s almost seven am which is normal for me to be grabbing my protein shake and heading off to work. Admittedly, I would have normally been up already and done a workout with my online personal trainer app, but this morning, it just wasn’t going to happen.

If I’m lucky he has already left and I won’t have to face him this morning. It will give me time to think about what I need to say.

But I suppose that is wishful thinking because him leaving me here on my own kind of defeats the purpose of being here in his apartment for him to be my big tough protector.