The Miraculum Chronicles

I snuggled into my covers and read War And Peace until I fell asleep. My usual type of nightmare arrived within hours. But this was the worst one yet. We are walking down a hallway that seems oh too familiar. It has scrubbed wooden floors. Patterned curtains frame the rusty windowsills. Like the orphanage. This is the orphanage, we realize. We see the cloudy jar on the bookshelf with peeling green paint. I remember taking War And Peace from that shelf. Next to the bookshelf stands the man, too blurry for me to make out what he looks like. We grab the jar and crush it in our fingers, the glass creating webs of shallow cuts on our small hands. We look in the puddle. I would have screamed if I had control. We see the blond curls slightly obstructing the beautiful hazel eyes framed by long black lashes. It is Maximus.