19

“Broken night?” Janice questioned. She had been led in as usual, and sat, still cuffed, across the table from Byron. 

“Hmm?” Byron looked at her, appearing confused. 

“That's what my mom used to call it when nightmares or something kept waking you up— a broken night.”

“Oh,” now he began to understand.

“Yeah, it looks like you had one.”

“You could say that for sure.”

“That's okay, I did too. I was dreaming about Lacey all night, Lacey and that damn snake.”

Byron repressed a shiver. He wondered if he should tell Janice about his dreams, describe them to her and find out if they were the same that kept the young killer awake. He decided to keep silent. 

You just don't want to know. He silently chastised himself. You’re too much of a coward.

“So,” Byron started, eager to change