Nine

Real or not, the comment was quickly pushed from my mind, as another sharp wave of blinding pain hit. I might be far too old to cry for Mama, but at this moment, I could think of little else. I'd do just about anything for her homemade migraine cure, and her comforting touch.

It took until well into the next day for it to pass without her help, at which point I fell into a fitful sleep, once again plagued by nightmares. Those were always the same. A feeling of helplessness, being carried away amidst terrified screams, a fiery inferno, angry roars and the sounds of a fierce battle. I often wondered if it was somehow a memory of whatever Mama had been running from.

I'd asked her once, but her face had immediately darkened, and she made me swear to never mention it again, and now I'd probably never know. I didn't see how a newborn could hold such vivid memories, anyway. The nightmares had been there as long as the migraines had though, like some kind of early warning signal, and I gues