And why was Mr Smith here, sleeping beside me like this on a chair instead of the mattress?
Then I remembered that there were only a few times I had fallen ill in the past before Damon changed, before his warmth and care turned to cruelty and became conditional. In those days, when he still pretended to love me, he would soak a towel in water and place it on my forehead whenever I had a fever. He would sit nearby, sometimes silent, and other times pretending like he cared, while waiting until I slept.
My chest tightened at the memory.
So I must have had a fever last night. That was the only explanation. It had probably been the reason my dream felt so vivid and real.
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