I woke up, my heart pounding and my body drenched in sweat. It was just a dream, Ava. Just a dream.

I had a dream of the tsunami again. It was vivid -- so real it made me sick. I dreamed that Mason had been running around and Dad was on the beach, and I was standing on the balcony of our hotel when the wave came crashing onto the shore, swallowing everything in it's path. I tried yelling. I tried screaming. I tried calling their names and gesturing for them to run, but my voice came out muffled. Quiet. Nothing.

I couldn't breathe.

That was when I woke up.

A few hours later, I found myself staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the flashbacks would go away. They were worse than ever. Nightmares made them spiral out of control. I glanced at my clock, a little annoyed that I couldn't bring myself to fall asleep, when a thought came to mind.

I tiptoed my way to the front door, silently opening it. I stepped outside, the crisp Montreal breeze dancing across my skin. I sat down on the staircase.

A bright orange hue had already rose above the horizon. The clouds were pink and purple, floating across the hidden sky.

And at that moment, I forgot about the nightmares, the trauma, the fright. I forgot about everything, and felt secure.