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“Grandpa?” I gasp when the form of the man who died for me comes into view.
He looks just as he did the day that he died. Brown slacks held up by black suspenders and a white cotton T-shirt.
God, I miss him.
I reach out, but my feet won’t move since they’re glued to the marshmallow floor.
“Are you okay?” I cry, my colorful tears slipping into my lips.
Hank nods, his warm eyes smiling brightly. “I am, child. Are you?”
Shrugging, I reply, “I’m not sure.”
The last thing I remember, I was on the run with Quinn.
Quinn.
I really wish he was here with me, as he makes everything okay.
“You love him, don’tcha?” Grandpa asks, looking carefree and happy.
“I don’t know what love is. But I think I do,” I reply, turning to my left and scrunching up my face when I see a winged cherub playing a song on a polished piano.
“Are we in heaven?” I ask as the cherub plays “November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses.
“I don’t know, child. Heaven, hell, it doesn’t matter. I’m up here in the clouds, looking down on you. Let go of your vengeance. You can never win,” a voice unexpectedly whispers, but that voice morphs into three different tones.
“What?” I ask, my skin prickling in fear. “But…they killed you.”
“I deserved it because I was a stubborn fool. Fool. Fool,” he says, which echoes deeply around me.
Suddenly, Hank transforms into something that is not him.
“Grandpa?” I question as his face begins whirling and pulsating into a swirl of blackness.
This isn’t Hank.
I try to move, but my feet are still glued to the floor. Dropping to my knees, I begin dragging my body away from the man cackling with that sick laughter.
My dad.
“You can run, Mia, but you can’t hide. Iwillfind you, and when I do, you’ll wish you had killed me.”
My eyes meet the spiteful gaze of my father, and I wish I could move or fight, but I can’t. I’m frozen solid because I’m afraid. I try to scream, but my mouth is glued shut, and everything melts around me.
The marshmallow clouds have turned into sludge, and I sink farther and farther until I’m submerged up to my neck. My father slowly turns his face, and I scream, as the right side of his face has distorted into Phil’s.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you, over and over again,” Phil/Dad crows, aiming the gun that killed Hank against my temple.
As I hear the gun cocked, my eyes pop open, and I scream. My body thrashes around on the bed, desperately attempting to escape my demise.
“Red! Red, shh…you’re dreaming.”
I know that voice. Focus on that voice.
However, I can’t shut up. No matter how hard I try, I just keep yelling. I feel like absolute shit, but screaming makes me feel remotely better.
“Mia, stop it. It’s Quinn.”
