323 AN APOLOGY TO KIESHA

Keisha thrashed in her bed, caught in a suffocating nightmare. Monstrous shadows danced on the walls, and a cold, disembodied voice whispered threats in her ear. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to scream, but no sound escaped her constricted throat. Just when she thought the terror would consume her, a gentle hand settled on her shoulder. With a gasp, Keisha bolted upright, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Disoriented, she blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the blurry figure beside her bed. As her vision cleared, a wave of fresh panic washed over her. There, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, sat Ethan, her estranged father. "Keisha, hey," he said softly, a reassuring smile on his lips. He held up a worn copy of National Geographic, its cover depicting a vibrant coral reef. "Didn't mean to wake you. Just wanted to see how you were doing." But Keisha wasn't listening. His kind smile, which used to melt away her worries as a child, now looked