Black (Clashing Colors Book 1) (9 page)

CHAPTER 8

Nightmares

Gabriel

It was her crying that woke me up hours later – small sniffing sounds and muttering that made no sense.

It wasn’t violent, so I didn’t wake her up but tugged her into my arms and kissed her on the top of her head, hoping that my care for her would somehow reach her in her dreams.

When morning came she stirred and stretched and turned into me so that her face was against my collarbone. I registered it but was still too sleepy to move.

“Good morning,” I mumbled and tried to open my eyes.

I got a muffled response and then we kind of drifted off to sleep a little. It wasn’t on purpose that I farted; I was just relaxed and one, I’m a guy and two, I’ve been in the military for nine years. You get pretty desensitized to that sort of thing. It wasn’t a small fart either, and for a moment I stiffened, waiting for her to get upset like Heidi, my last girlfriend, would have been. But to my surprise Cia just laughed.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “What’s so funny?”

Her grin was infectious, and her puffy eyes and morning hair made her look cute in an approachable way. Who knew that inside that black armor she wore the first time I met her, there was this sweet innocent soul?

I propped myself up on my elbow.

“Hey, you know what?” I said.

“What?” She mirrored me and propped herself up to.

“I like you a lot better like this.”

“Like what?”

“You know, without all the piercings and the dark clothes.”

“Yes, ugly morning face and stinky breath is much more me,” she joked.

“No, I’m serious.” I assured her.

“Why?”

“Because you’re more relaxed and fun. What do you say that when you get to be a teenager and we can maybe leave here, I’ll take you shopping in the nearest town? I would hate for you to have to wear the black clothes when we leave here.”

She bit her lip and knitted her brows. “I don’t know.”

“If you ever want a boyfriend, you should lose the Goth look.”

“What makes you think I want a boyfriend and how do you even know I don’t have one already?”

I arched a brow. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” she said. “Nor do I want one.”

“Why not?”

“Because you just confirmed that guys only care about looks… and the ones I’m attracted to would never be interested in me anyway.”

I could have said she was wrong, but I was guilty as charged. I wouldn’t be interested in her either, especially not in her hideous Goth outfit.

“I sometimes wonder,” she said; “if our eyes saw souls instead of bodies, how different our ideal of beauty would be.”

“True… It would have saved me a few heartbreaks,” I said dryly.

Her eyes were asking me to elaborate.

“I’ve been attracted to beauty that turned out to be only skin deep a few times. It’s disappointing,” I explained.

“I bet your girlfriends were all very beautiful,” she pondered out loud.

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “But not always very nice.”

She looked into my eyes. “There are some people who are both beautiful on the inside and the outside.”

I shrugged. “If so, I would like to meet them.”

She took a second before she answered and I got the feeling she was weighing her words. “If you want to meet someone that fits the description, look yourself in the mirror.”

Before I really understood the depth of her compliment she had moved away and was sitting on the side of the bed.

“Thanks,” I said to her back, but she didn’t react.

Instead she changed the subject. “I’m hungry – what time is breakfast?”

I looked at my watch. “Eight-fifteen; breakfast is in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, good.”

“Can I take a quick shower before I help you get ready?”

“Sure.”

Ten minutes later I had showered and dressed. Cia was sitting on the bed reading “The Ugly Duckling” when I came back from the bathroom with her toothbrush.

“Okay, open up your mouth, princess,” I said and brushed her teeth. When I was done she went to rinse and spit in the bathroom.

“I think they want you to put on the same toddler clothes as yesterday,” I said, since I didn’t see any other clothes she could wear.

“That’s okay, I’m no sissy…” she said and this time she didn’t even cover her breasts when I undressed her. I was pleased to see that she was getting used to my closeness and trusted me.

Breakfast was interesting. We were told a new client would arrive around three that day and asked to stay out of sight if possible.

That explained why we hadn’t seen anyone when we first arrived and in a way it made sense, since arriving at a camp where people dressed like babies and toddlers would make any sane person run away as fast as possible.

We had another session with Bruce after breakfast and I noticed that Cia was sitting with her legs crossed really tight.

“Do you have to use the bathroom?” I whispered as we waited for him to join us.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

I knew she hadn’t done number two for at least twenty-four hours, and I could understand if she was pressured with the amount of food she ate for dinner last night and breakfast this morning.

“If you’ve got to go, we could go to the cabin.” Not that I looked forward to changing her diaper again, but I would do it if I had to.

“No, I’m hoping he’ll let me get out of the diaper after this session,” she whispered.

Bruce entered and took his seat at the table. “How are we doing?” he asked and smiled at us both.

“I think Cia really needs to go to the bathroom, but she won’t do it until you let her out of the diaper.”

“But you already wet your diaper yesterday without problems,” he said to her.

“Been there, done it, don’t want to do it again,” she argued.

“All right, but then let’s just focus on our session today. Anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” Cia said shortly.

“And you?” He looked at me.

“I just want to say that I’m super proud of Cia and I think she’s doing amazing.”

“Good.”

He turned to her. “Any nightmares or memories from your past that are popping up, Cia?”

“Nope,” she said and uncrossed and crossed her legs again. She was beginning to get very red in the face and looked to be in pain.

Bruce frowned. “There are many things I would like to discuss with you, but I don’t think now is the best time. Why don’t you two go to the cabin and change into your child costume?”

A heavy sigh of relief came from Cia.

“You are now five years old and can use the toilet by yourself, although you still need help to dress, bathe, and brush your teeth,” he instructed.

Cia was already up from her chair and out the door.

I gave Bruce a quick “Talk to you later.”

We almost ran to the cabin, where she started to undress herself. I wanted to help but she hissed at me, “I got this,” and disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door with her foot.

We had certainly hit the age of independence, alright.

I waited outside the cabin and the look on her face, when she came out, was pure bliss.  

“Feel better?” I asked.

“A trillion times better,” she said with a soft smile and sat down. In her hands she held a mint-green skirt and a purple t-shirt with a printed-on pony. 

“Who do you think picks out these clothes,” she asked.

“I don’t know; Therese maybe?” I suggested.

“Hmm… whomever it is, the person sure has a love for colors.”

She sat for a minute and fidgeted with the print on the shirt. “I used to have one of these.”

“You had a pony?”

“Not a real pony, but I had one of these toys. They’re called My Little Pony.”

“Oh, nice,” I said distractedly because I had just spotted Therese outside the main house and she was looking good in her summer dress, with her long hair blowing slightly in the breeze.

“I think I might have stolen it actually.”

That made me turn my head and look at Cia, whose eyes were glazed over.

“What did you say?”

“I stole the pony from a neighbor girl who forgot it on her lawn. I hid it in my room so no one would take it away from me.”

“Why did you steal it?” I asked slowly.

“Because I was jealous and didn’t have any toys myself.”

“You didn’t have
any
toys?”

She shook her head. “Except for Kitty.”

“Who is Kitty?”

“My Hello Kitty was a stuffed animal that I took everywhere. I couldn’t sleep without her.

“You still have her?”

“No, my mom burned her.”

“What? No mother would do something that cruel. Are you sure she burned your teddy bear?”

Cia was biting the inside of her cheek. “My mom was a mean drunk, and it happened on one of those nights when she blamed me for ruining her life.”

“Why did she think you ruined her life?”

She snorted. “Classic story. Sixteen-year-old virgin infatuated with rich pretty boy who says all the right things. She wants to make him happy and gives him what he wants. She ends up pregnant and alone and rejected by him, with her friends fleeing like rats, and her parents angry at her. And who gets the blame? The stupid baby who ruined her life.”  

“You’re not stupid, Cia,” I said and stroked her hair. She jerked away.

“I think you need to help me change into this Pony costume.”

We didn’t speak while I helped her change her clothes. What she had revealed made me grateful for the mom I have who has always given me support and love. Unlike Cia, I have never lacked any toys or comfort, and I wished I could somehow share it with Cia.

I couldn’t. No one could. It was too late and the damage was already done. Or was it?

Later that day when Cia was drawing with crayons, which she could do for hours in her own little bubble, I spoke to Therese, who helped me find a multicolored My Little Pony in one of the toy boxes in the play area and wrap it in gift paper. I wished I could have gotten Cia a new one, but at least this one would be hers and not stolen.

“Sugar,” I said and went to sit next to her. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

Using only crayons she had drawn a spot-on portrait of me and in the lower corner she had managed to draw the sapper logo I have tattooed on my back.

“Wow, did you make this?” I asked, although it was a rhetorical question since she had been alone the whole time. “This is incredible.”

“If you like it, you can have it,” she said and handed it to me.

“I love it. Thank you.”

She gave me a genuine smile. “It’s nothing. I make portraits for a living, I’m a street artist,” she said.

“But you’re insanely talented, you know that, right?”

She shrugged. “I just like to draw.”

Then I remembered and handed her the gift I had been holding behind my back. “This is for you, my dear.”

“For me?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes, for you.”

She opened the gift and held up the little plastic toy, which was the size of her hand, and then she turned it over in the air. “This is Rainbow Dash, she was one of my favorites in the movies.”

“There were movies?”

“Yes… cartoons.”

“That’s nice.”

We were interrupted by Bruce, who cleared his throat behind us. “Feeling better, Cia?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” She looked up at him and for the first time I didn’t read hostility on her face.

“That’s a nice drawing,” he said and pointed to my portrait.

“Cia made it,” I said, not hiding the pride in my voice.

He sat down on a chair beside us and asked to see it.

“How long have you been an artist?” he asked.

“I don’t remember, but I started making portraits for money when I was seventeen.”

“You forgot to sign it,” he said and handed it back to her.

She picked up a black crayon and put it to the lower right side of the paper, but there was a moment of hesitation before she wrote “To G from Cia.” 

“Interesting,” Bruce commented, and he had the look of a sly fox. “What name do you normally sign your portraits with?”

“I just write a B, nothing else.”

“B for Black?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you chose to sign this one as Cia – why is that?”

“I don’t know, it just felt right.”

“I’m wondering if you would be interested in helping me out with an art project while you’re here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been planning on decorating the dining room for a while, but I’m wondering if maybe you would like to have fun with it…”