I heard her soft whimpers as she woke from another nightmare, the same haunting one that seemed to plague her nights. My heart clenched. She was trembling, her breath ragged. I gently lifted her from the bed, cradling her against my chest as I carried her to the bathroom. I set her down on the sink counter, her small frame barely fitting there. I grabbed her toothbrush and began brushing her teeth, a soothing ritual to ground her in the present. As I worked, I couldn't help but think, I'll fight her demons for her, conquer them one by one.

“It’s okay, little mouse,” I murmured softly, my hands steady despite the storm inside me. "When I was a kid, I used to suffer from night terrors,” I tell her gently, “I don’t remember what they were about anymore, but it got so bad, my mom slept in my little twin bed next to me. There were some nights that I was shaking so hard, my body went numb. I could never get back to sleep, too afraid I’d be revisited by whatever monsters were haunting me.” I bring a cup to her mouth. "Spit." She follows what I say but looks curious, so I continue. "The first thing she’d do was take me into the bathroom and brush my teeth. She said fresh breath makes everyone feel better. It was such a menial task that it calmed me down. Then, we’d do brain teasers or put together puzzles until I was too tired to remember that I was scared.”

I gently tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t have nightmares when I fell back asleep. And by morning, I would almost forget I had one at all until nighttime came around, and we did it all over again." My little mouse's face lit up with a soft smile that made my heart ache. I caressed her cheek. Testing waters of how much I could touch her in the moment. "So now that my little mouse is all cleaned up, let's solve a puzzle?"