The night was warm, too warm - it was scary to just stand where she was. The heat was intense and it flickered down the halls, lighting up the path. The girl shrieked as it moved so quickly, swirling around the house. "Papa!" she yelled, but the only thing she could hear was her own voice. Her lungs felt like they were shrinking as she coughed, her little legs trembling as she tried to make her way through the house.
Her stomach ached as she stumbled through the rooms. You wouldn't have noticed the tears dripping down her face, they dried instantly.
God, where were they?
Then there was a voice. A soft voice that was so loud, yet so quiet. "Amara," the orange blaze seemed to shout.
"Papa?" the girl asked, running to the fire.
amara shot up out of bed, her breathing heavy. she looked down at her sweat-drenched hands with the one eye she had open, and wiped them across the bed. there was light, but a different kind of light, and amara let her head fall back on the wall.
"are yous okay?" a voice entered amara's head, and she looked up in the direction of the voice. race was sitting at the edge of the bed, giving her a concerned look. amara's heart wouldn't slow, even a little, and she didn't have the capacity in her to stay calm.
"and yous suddenly care why?" she snapped a little sharper than she intended, tilting her head to look at the boy.
his eyes widened, not expecting her to fire back so quickly. he stammered, not really making any words.
amara broke eye contact, immediately feeling guilty. "wait, no, i-"
"it's fine," he said quietly, giving her half a smile, the first glimmer of a smile that she'd seen in two weeks or so. "i's get where yous is comin' from."
the girl couldn't reply, she didn't quite know what to say. she just let her head fall down, biting her lip. a sudden surge of emotions hit her, and she could feel her eyes well up. there was nobody else in the lodging house besides them two, but amara wasn't sure if she trusted this boy enough to cry in front of him. her tongue pushed against the roof of her mouth as she tried to stop tears. one let go, dripping down her rosy red cheeks. "i'm sorry," she finally said, looking up at him through one swollen eye.
"for what?" race asked softly, and amara wasn't sure if he was being kind because he had genuinely changed, or if he just pitied her.
"for the way we's met," amara answered, her voice croaking a bit.
the blonde narrowed his eyebrows, slightly confused. he didn't say anything, though, turning away a little to lean on the bunk bedpost as he thought.
amara let him think. she wasn't quite sure what context she meant either, and would rather for herself not to think about it. "why was yous out of 'ta lodging house so late?" she asked, the question suddenly hitting her in the face.
race turned back to her. "watching 'ta horses at 'ta racetrack," he replied, hoping amara would catch on.
she did, and the eye that was open lit up. "your name - is that why?"
race nodded, grinning wider than before. "ding ding, we's have a winner," he laughed softly, lying on his back and staring up at amara. god, she was pretty. his opinion on her hadn't changed, she was still a piece of artwork. but knowing her for just little bit longer gave her a little bit more depth.
she was like a painting. a painting of...let's say clouds. clouds are beautiful, and even thinking about them put you in a dream-like state. it was where the angels sat, for god's sake. but a painting of clouds is much more than just clouds. somebody painted those clouds. somebody looked up at the sky and the clouds and decided to paint them. somewhere, those clouds were in the sky. there was a life connected to the painter of those clouds. there were people that the painter loved and people that the painter didn't like. there were lives moving around the world, other painters painting pictures of clouds all around the world.
