Chapter 8: Nightmares Never Leave

Some wounds never heal. Sometimes the past claws back, as raw as the day it happened.

Even now, I get nightmares. I’m back in that classroom. The room reeks of dry-erase markers and sweat. My palms stick to the desk. I can’t solve the problem in front of me. My classmates have already finished. Laughter rises—quiet at first, then sharp and loud, a murder of crows in my ears.

I slam my pen down. "Enough! Stop laughing at me!"

I jerk awake, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. My wife stirs beside me, worry in her voice. "Another nightmare? Honey, you’re already so accomplished—why can’t you let go of the past?" She finds my hand under the covers, her touch gentle.