My son sobbed the entire drive to his grandmother’s house. “Daddy, please don’t leave me here.” My wife snapped, “You’re babying him.” I left him anyway. Three hours later, a neighbor called. “Your little boy ran to my house shaking. He’s hiding under my bed and won’t stop crying.”

On the fifth anniversary of the night everything changed, Owen was ten and obsessed with astronomy. He had outgrown several fears and grown into new complexities. Loud noises still bothered him. Enclosed spaces could trigger panic. Sudden authority could shut him down or ignite disproportionate anger. But he laughed easily now. He argued about bedtime with energy. He made friends. He missed no school except for appointments. He loved basketball with the absolute seriousness boys reserve for things that allow the body to feel good in itself.

That autumn William’s book was released.