Th*rsty (Scomiche)

I Will

"Love you forever and forever. Love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together. Love you when we're apart."

I Will by The Beatles

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The cemented room couldn't have been bigger than 8x4 square feet. There were no walls and no door. The only things it had were a solitary bed on one side with a thin mattress and a single lightbulb giving the room a pale yellow glow.

I didn't understand why I was there but as if out of nowhere, Mike appeared on the bed.

"Dad! What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, he looked at me with a sad expression in his eyes.

"Dad, do you need help?"

He turned on his side to face me more properly. It was only then I noticed how thin he was and how sallow his skin was. He reached for my hand and squeezed it gently.

"Dad, please, tell me what you need..." I pleaded.

Without warning he started to vomit, his whole upper body practically convulsing as bright red fluid came out of his mouth.

"Dad! Dad!" I moved closer to him, not exactly sure what to do. I kept holding his hand and rubbing his back, watching helplessly as blood pooled on the floor. "Help! Somebody please help!" I yelled.

But my voice only bounced off the walls. We were trapped. I was in that tight little box with my father who was dying right before my eyes.

*****

"Dad! Nooo!" I screamed as I sat up. Tears were streaming down my cheeks.

It was another nightmare.

"Dad..." I reached for pillow and hugged it against my chest while I sobbed.

"Mitchy? Are you okay?" It was Scott whom I had obviously woken up. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up on his bed.

I turned to face him, the tears continuing to fall. "I had a bad dream about my dad."

The expression on his face changed from concern to pity. "Awww, babe..." Scott walked over and climbed on the bed, settling beside me.

When he offered his arms, I practically threw myself at him and then continued to cry on his chest.

Scott rubbed my back gently. "Mitchy..."

"He... He was dy... Dying... Blood... Everywhere," I said in between sobs.

"Oh, honey." He hugged me tighter.

"I couldn't... do... anything!" I sobbed louder.

"Mitchy... There was nothing you could have done. It's not your fault," he consoled me.

I leaned closer to him and wrapped my arms tighter around his waist. I knew it wasn't my fault but it didn't make the dream any less horrible.

An hour later I was feeling more human, although I still could not shake the heaviness in my heart. A long shower and coffee helped. Scott offered to do the Starbucks run and even bought me extra bagels. He had gone ahead of me to rehearse with the rest of the band. I asked for a couple of minutes to myself so that I could regroup and mentally prepare myself for our activities that day.

I was sitting in front of the mirror, fixing my hair, when my eyes started to water again. The memories came flooding and I found myself sobbing for the second time that day before I even realized what hit me.