Open Heart {Under Revision}

Chapter 19- Shelter

'I think everything started for me when I was five years old. Before that, my memories are rather monotonous. I was born in Manchester and stayed there for next two years while my mother completed her residency. I have been told that my mind assimilated everything perfectly and following family's tradition, I was expected to become a doctor by twenty. When I make these recordings, remember my memories since that night are hazy...I lost a lot of blood and slipped into coma according to my mother. But I have clear memory of that moment when my father warned me about everything. I wished...that time, I could've known the catastrophic impact of his words.'

— Charlotte Turner, Age 15, Pre-med Student. Location: Raleigh, North Carolina
Subject's Doctor- Dr. Vita Brown, PhD, Child Psychology

San Diego, Sixteen and a half years ago...

"Charlotte?"

I looked up from my sketchpad and found my father standing near the patio with a huge smile of his face.

"Daddy!" I exclaimed happily, "You're back!"

Throwing the half-completed painting, I rushed and threw my arms around him. He lifted me up in air and kissed me on cheeks before hugging me tight. He smelt clean and like home. I missed my father so much!

"Where's your mother?" he asked, putting me down but holding my hand, "I didn't see her."

"Sylvan wanted new books as if he already does not have lot in house!" I grumpily replied, pulling him near stairs of patio which led to the beach. It made me very happy to paint in open, looking into the sea. There was already the wind and little sprays of water and beautiful scent of salt. Together, they all helped to me create sweet drawings on my pages. But my mother was at home and she never wanted me to run around like a feral child. Maybe she should return back to Atlanta and stick her nose with all those germs she loved more than her family!

Dad chuckled, a smile which created crinkles at corner of his eyes, "Sylvan is going to appear for his graduation soon. And then he'll go to college."

"He's thirteen!" and very likable. And irritating. But I loved Sylvan.

"But...he's talented. Just like you." His eyes fell on the canvas and for a moment, that smile drifted away like breeze before coming back, "What are you painting today?"

Beaming, I grabbed the drawing book and showed it to him, "The sea!"

His eyes were momentarily fixed on paper, "My god...how did you do it?"

"Did what?" I frowned. Did he not like it?

Dad's hand rose to touch the paper but he strangely drew them back, just observing and saying, "These colours...a single colour yet so beautiful. It really feels like water."

"I love water!" I gave a toothy-grin, "Well, not drinking water but water."

I didn't know why mom always chided me to keep drinking and drinking. Was I a fish? Humph, I would bloat like pufferfish if I kept drinking water like that way and then they would have to burst me open if I didn't burst before. Humph! But anyways, my father was with me and I really wanted to do something for him.

"Can I paint you, daddy?" I asked, dangling my legs on stairs.

My dad's eyes glinted with sun—they were so light and a beautiful mixture of green and brown as if I was seeing a patch of earth from space. And in them, he seemed confused by my proposal, "Paint me?"

"I don't see another dad anywhere." I parried my hand on my head and looked around, standing up, "Hello, another dad, are you here?"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me onto him, "Come down here. Why do you want to paint me?"