Michael couldn’t sleep.

The room was illuminated by the soft glow of the night lamp. It would’ve been a lovely night if he wasn’t in such a state. Hunched over at the foot of the bed, his knees drawn to his chest, he was heaving, furiously scratching at the tattooed skin on his neck, muttering incoherent words in German about his father, his mother. Cursing them. Cursing himself.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to have these carefully concealed episodes. But it was the worst today.