Chapter 7 - THE BOY WHO REMEMBERED THE FIRE
Leo began having nightmares.
He woke screaming.
Sometimes he called for his mother.
Sometimes he begged someone not to open the door.
Grace worked with the pediatric team to arrange trauma-informed psychological support.
She also asked whether I could visit him once my doctors considered it safe.
When the day came, I entered Leo's room in a wheelchair.
He stared.
Then whispered:
“Uncle Dom?”
I smiled.
“Hey, little man.”
His face crumpled.
He climbed carefully into my lap.
I held him.
Pain shot through my ribs.
I didn't care.
He buried his face against my chest.
“I thought you died.”
My throat tightened.
“I'm here.”
He cried.
I held him until his breathing slowed.
Then he looked up.
“Mommy said you'd help.”
I nodded.
“I will.”
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out the broken black cross.
“Daddy gave me this.”
I stared.
Matteo's cross.
I remembered buying it for him when he turned eighteen.
Leo placed it in my hand.
“Mommy said if bad people came, I should show you.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
Leo pointed toward the back.
“There's something inside.”
I examined the cross.
A tiny seam ran along its edge.
My heart hammered.
It wasn't merely a pendant.
May you like
It was a miniature storage device.
And my brother had hidden something inside it before he died.
