Painting For My Grandpa | √Wattys 2016

Painting For My Grandpa #8

°°°
"All your work is gone," a voice whispers around the darkness surrounding me.

"No please," I whispered back, tears rolling down my cheeks and desperation seeping through my words.

"It's all because of Grandpa. That one man who made your childhood miserable. What are you going to do now?" The voice paused it's constant taunting.

"Grandpa Tree,"the voice continued.

All the children's voices from the past began chanting the name and I felt all of their eyes on me.

I was brought back to the worst part of my life.

The part that ruined my childhood.

The part that left me feeling hopeless and alone.

The part of my life that made me hate Grandpa.

°°°

I woke up gasping for breath, my whole body sticky with sweat.

"Another nightmare," I muttered.

But it brought me back to the worst part of my childhood.

And I hated it.

I turned under the sheets to see Riff's sleeping figure next to mine.

It was still dark out but there were faint shadows cascading along his features.

He looked so peaceful, his brown hair touseled and his lashes ,long as usual, were fluttering occasionally.

Must be dreaming.

I delicately took one of his brunette locks and brushed it upwards to the rest of his hair.

He stirred slightly, letting out a small groan.

I tucked my bent elbows underneath my head and remained that way for as long as I remember, staring at my boyfriend's sleeping expression.

Call me creepy but it calmed me down.

A deep sense of guilt then washed over me.

I've never told Riff why I hated Grandpa so much, how he had affected my childhood at school immensely.

I sighed softly.

"I'll tell you all about it in the morning," I whispered shakily, still recovering from the trauma of my nightmare.

He needs to know.

§§§

I don't know when did I fall alseep but when I opened my eyes again, Riff was no longer lying next to me.

The sheets that were covering him a few hours ago were crumpled and folded into an awkward half of an oval.

It was morning now and the sun was shiny through the window, little specks of dust were dancing around the air.

There was a faint sizzling sound coming from downstairs, indicating Grandma has started making breakfast.

The soft sound of water falling from the shower behind the bathroom door also ceased and a few moments later, Riff walked out, once again with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was dripping wet.

"Good morning," he smiled cheekily at me.

I did my best to smile back but based on how Riff reacted, my efforts weren't good enough.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his smile faltering slightly.

His pink tinted cheeks which usually move upwards when he smiled were now more sunken and his eyes held a questioning gaze.