Clara froze the moment she saw him. Leo lay curled on his side, small hands gripping the sheets, his breathing shallow and uneven. Tear streaks ran down his cheeks, and even in sleep, his body quivered with quiet distress.
Weeks of restless nights, nightmares, and hesitation at bedtime had hinted something was wrong—but this? This felt far worse than ordinary childhood anxiety. Someone—or something—was causing him pain.
She approached slowly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. Her eyes caught an odd detail: the angle of his head, unnaturally tilted, avoiding pressure on the pillow.
The silk cushion beneath him felt unusually stiff, heavier than expected. A chill ran down her spine. Gently, she lifted it—and discovered a hidden zipper along the seam.
Inside, thin metal wires were woven into the lining, hidden beneath the soft exterior. Not razor-sharp, but firm enough to make resting his head a nightly torment.
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