CHAPTER 6: ART ROOM

HAZEL'S POV

I asked Gabrielle to repeat herself three more times because I couldn't seem to wrap my brain around the whole ordeal.

This was the type of shit that turned people into alcoholics and crackheads. I felt like I was trapped in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Gabz, I don't know what to make of all this." I sat on the floor with my back against the bed.

"Haze, you've been through a lot. Let's just forget about it for now," she suggested.

We both sat in silence for a while and tried to catch our breaths.

"Hey Gabz, didn't the whole point of you coming over was to show me something important?" I asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Oh yeah, trust me, I haven't forgotten the reason I'm here," she responded. "But it can wait. We've had enough revelations for one day."

"Now I'm more than curious," I raised an eyebrow at her.

She smacked the gum she was torturing in her mouth and stood up. Gabz ran towards the bedroom door. She turned around and waved me over. "Are you coming or not?"

My eyes kept going to her bandaged hand. "OK, I will if you tell me what happened to your hand?" I said, pointing to it. "It looks like it hurts."

"You should see the other guy," she declared with a proud giggle. "Just come the fuck on. We'll talk about my hand later."

She came back over to where I sat and pulled me to my feet. She literally dragged my ass to the exit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I whined.

"You'll see." She sped walk through the halls of the house.

She took a right turn then two left, and I followed in pursuit without uttering a word. She finally stopped at the door to my art room.

"The art room—really?" I blinked a few times in confusion.

She tapped her foot impatiently and yelled, "Just open the freaking door, Haze."

"Okay, okay—jeez!" I entered the numeric code in the security panel and within seconds the lights changed from red to green, signalling the door was unlocked.

Before I could make another move, Gabz manoeuvred her tall, skinny frame under my arms and pushed the door with a little too much force.

Damn, this girl was too strong for her own good. With a loud thud, the door opened wide. She high-tailed her ass inside before I could say anything to her.

I watched as she ran over to the far end of the room, analysing a few of my paintings along the way.

"This one will always be my favourite, but you never told me why you painted it, though?" She stopped at the one I composed of sexy dream dude.

"As you know, I painted that one eight months ago on my eighteenth birthday. It was the first time I dreamt of him. I was running in the woods from something or someone when I collided in his muscular frame. He was mysterious and charming and a little conceited. He had the whole bad boy thing going on. I guess I drew it, so I'd remember him. I didn't know if I'd ever dream of him again."

She was examining the painting with a stoic expression on her face. The intensity in the room had me chewing on my nails.

"Tell me about this one," she motioned, stepping in front of the first portrait I made after the death of my dad. It was one of a teen boy, who was roughly fifteen or sixteen.

"I did this one when I was nine years old. It was the first anniversary of my father's death and I remembered I kept getting flashes of the boy's face and I just picked up my paintbrush, and before you know it, I ended up with this painting," I explained, rubbing my hand over it.

"Haze, have you not noticed the similarities between the boy and your dream guy?"

"No, I haven't really noticed, but I guess they do have the same colour eyes."

"Well, Haze," she arranged for both portraits to sit side by side. "I think that they have more than just the same colour eyes."

I inspected the two portraits, the resemblance was uncanny. I made a loud gasp. "How did I not notice this before?" I shook my head in disbelief.

They had the same chin, the same hair colour, the same eyes and they even had the same beauty mark on the right side of their cheeks.

The only difference was the obvious one, and that was the difference in their age.

Gabz put a supportive hand on my shoulder, "I guess this is a bit too hard for you to digest." She pulled me in for a much-needed hug.

"Maybe I need therapy. I think I conjured up this guy in my head after my dad died. I believe it was a way for me to deal with my grief back then," I said to Gabz who was still holding me in her embrace.

"If that is the case, why have you conjured up his much older and hotter version now—Are you still grieving?"

I thought about her question and even though it still hurts that my dad was not here. I wouldn't describe myself as grieving.

"No, I am not grieving. I think it might be the fact that I'm about to leave for college. I guess I'm anxious. As you know I've been homeschooled for most of my life."

It was true, I was worried about going to college and being around new people. But if I was going to survive in the work world, I had to learn how to perform and interact with my peers.

Gabz took my hands and unfolded them from around her neck. The look she gave me made me terrified.

"I know that look, Gabz, you're about to drop a bomb."

She nodded in agreement and pulled out her phone and handed it to me. I was confused. What did her phone have to do with anything?

She studied my face and read my expression. "Just look at the picture on the phone."

I did as she said.

I swear I felt the world stopped spinning beneath me. I had to grab a hold of Gabrielle's hand to keep me grounded.

I didn't know what to feel. I stared at the photo again. "Is this - " I couldn't finish the question.

Gabz already knew what I was trying to say. "Yes, that's your dream guy and yes, Hazel, he is alive and real."

I let out the breath that I didn't even notice I was holding and dropped the phone to the ground. I didn't even care if it shattered. I'd pay for any damages later. I was hyperventilating, and my hands were flapping around like a flightless bird.

"Easy Haze, you're going to pass out if you don't calm down."

I heeded her warning and counted to ten while taking deep breaths. My breathing evened out, but I still felt light-headed.

"Maybe you should sit down, Haze."

I stepped back until I was up against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the floor.

"Are you OK, Haze?" Gabz asked.

"Yeah, I am?" I tried to sound as convincing as possible. "Where—how did you get this photo?" I looked up at her.

"I guess it's time for me to tell you about the bandage on my hand." She sighed and came over to sit next to me on the floor.

I could tell it was going to be an interesting roller coaster of a ride. I buckled my seatbelt and waited for her to begin.

"I'm listening," I sighed.

"So, it all started three days ago."