Everest’s P.O.V
Julie bought Ben a stuffed dinosaur when he was two weeks old. You can always tell he’s upset if he’s carrying around with him. It’s probably because it reminds him of his mama, even though he doesn’t remember her anymore.
Currently, Ben is lying on his bed with his eyes closed, facing the ceiling and hugging the dinosaur to his chest. He called it Jules, which is weird, because it was my nickname for his mum, and he shouldn’t remember that.
I stare at my son for a minute and lean against the doorframe. He looks like a depressed teenager. He shouldn’t look like that, right? He should be happy. He used to be so happy when he was younger. Or maybe it’s me, turning it into something it’s not. The guilt is eating at me. He won’t be happy when he’s older. We’ll be constantly
