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"Also part of the reason we can't have as much fun is cause you're in pain. Thats why we won't have fun I can't have any knowing you're not feeling good."
I smiled at that. "I deal with it every month, my love." I reminded him softly, freeing my arms, pulling a bottle of Asprin out of my backpack and taking a few, before putting my arms back in my quilt and laying my head back on his lap.
Usually, in my dreams, I was outside. This time, I was in a house. The dream had that foggy, misty edge to it that I was coming to recognize. Unsure what to do, I started wandering through the house -which I soon realized was Jericho's.
Eventually, I found myself in another room. After a moment, I realized that it was the guestroom, the one Jer and I had gotten into the habit of sharing. I saw a lump in the covers, and sat on the edge of the bed to investigate. On closer inspection, I realized that the lump was the little-boy I'd dreamed-about before.
In all my dreams before this, I had somewhat suspected that the boy might be my son, but in this dream, something in my head was telling me he was.
I ran my fingers through his hair, and he smiled at me. Suddenly, though, his smile vanished. His appearance started changing. Bruises bloomed out of nowhere on his face. His curls turned short. And worst of all, blood started flowing from his arms.
I panicked, desperately trying everything I knew to fix him, including my healing, and even that song. Nothing worked, and eventually, he lost conciousness in my arms.
"Please!" I shouted, "Please! Somebody, anybody, help me!"
But nobody was there to hear me. And shortly, I felt the boy's heart stop.
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