In the beginning I slept with every light in the house burning, and checked the front lock three times before bed.

Then twice.

Then, one ordinary morning, I woke to sunlight through the curtains and understood that I had slept seven full hours, through the night, with no nightmares, for the first time since it all began — and I sat on the edge of the bed and cried, not from sadness, but from a relief so pure it had no other outlet.

Slowly, the checking became once, and then, some nights, not at all.