Repainted {Camila/You}

11

I woke up in a room that was not my own. The walls had been replaced with concrete, our beds and furniture were now gone. There was ash on the floor and the air was thick and hazy, nearly gray. I peered through the fog, trying to take in what little of my surroundings my eyes could make out; I could just barely make out two figures. I clambered to my feet, an intense pressure flooding my brain. I staggered backwards in an attempt to regain my balance, when hand shot out of the darkness, pulling me upwards. I forced myself to look up at the hand who had grabbed me, startled by the familiarity of the figure's features.

"Dad?" He was standing only a foot away from me... Standing. I hadn't seen my father stand since, well...

"Sweetheart," he said, his voice interrupting my fleeting thoughts, "It's been so long."

He held out his arms for a hug, one that I gladly accepted. I wasn't big on hugs since the accident, but when my father hugged me, it seemed as if the world was right. My lungs nearly burst when I felt the weight of his arms around me, my heart beating erratically in my chest. I inhaled his warm scent, a mixture of burning wood and cologne.

"I miss you so much," I mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, too afraid to let him go.

"I know, love," He whispered, "I miss you too."

"I'm sorry I don't come home," I stammered, trying to quickly find the words to say. I knew this dream all too well. It happened often, "Please, don't leave this time, dad."

"If I could stay..." He began, and I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms tighter around his frame, hoping to stop what would happen next. Tears stung at my eyes, growing until they threatened to spill.

"I know, if you could stay you would. And if I could change the way things are, I would, daddy," I sobbed weakly, feeling the man waste away in my arms. The warm woody scent turned into the smell of rotting flesh, stinging at my nose and turning my stomach, "I swear to you I would."

I made the mistake of glancing upward; his eyes that once reflected love and light were now dead, covered in a thick, blue veil. His coffee-colored skin was a sickly gray and-

I was pushed back onto the bed with enough force to make me sputter in shock--I shot upward, gasping for breath and wildly searching around to ensure that I was still intact. After realizing that, yes, the dream was over, my eyes focused on the small figure kneeling next to me, hair a mess. Camila's large doe eyes drooped sleepily, but she still looked up at me with such fear that I had to reach out for her.

She reciprocated the contact, twisting her body until she was by my side, her stomach pressed against my hip, her arms draped across my torso, "Are you okay?"

"It was a nightmare," I said, closing my eyes and enjoying the warmth of the girl next to me, "I'm fine Mila; I have it often."

"That doesn't make it any less scary," she mumbled, nuzzling her head onto my chest as I noticed goosebumps appearing over her tanned arms. They looked a stronger than I had remembered, and for a moment I started to smile, "Would you ever tell me?"

"Tell you about my nightmares?"

She nodded, and I could tell from the way her jaw shifted that she was nibbling on her lip.

"Maybe," I let my hand wrap around her back, resting on the skin of her hip, slightly exposed by the t-shirt that she had worn to bed. It was bigger than her, but its edges had rolled up and there was skin everywhere. I could feel Camila nuzzle closer to me, her legs lazily brushing against mine.