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Diana’s Point Of View.
I slept on the floor covered by a spare duvet and wearily lay my head on a pillow beside his bed because I didn’t know what would be proper, given Billy’s age and the fact we’re unrelated. Amy offered to bring another bed into my room, but I wouldn’t disturb the tiny sleeping boy because he needed rest after his ordeal.
As I stared at the ceiling, my body spasmed, and I cried silently, releasing my unhappiness, choking back the sobs of despair at what a Mom and Dad did to a beautiful little boy. Seeing his panicked face as he waved and screamed my name while the police tried questioning him tore through my soul.
I rolled over and looked up, startled because Billy’s hand reached down, and his fingers rifled through my hair. His big blue eyes stared at me with a strange recognition that I translated into love, and when I smiled, he did, too.
“Why are you sleeping on the floor, Diana?”
“To stay close to you, honey.”
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Billy grinned, but then his face became sad, and I saw a tear in his eye. His empathy for me was touching, but I wished, for his sake, he could have connected with his parents. I kneeled and hugged him again, getting into bed wearing my sweats and cuddling him.