Three days. That's how long it's been since my baby slept. It's been five days since the incident with Kyle and his lackeys. That night, as well as the next two, I awoke to Cyrus screaming. Begging incoherently while tears streamed down his face as he clawed at his body. The third night, after I finally pulled him from his nightmare, I held him for an hour as his mind locked itself into a cycle of anxiety attacks and intense paranoia. That was the last straw, in his eyes, and so began his streak of insomnia. The next night, he simply refused to sleep. He laid in my arms, waiting...