My eyes flew open to my father shaking me awake, "Jordy, sweetheart, not again?" My father stepped away from my bed and turned on the lamp in between our two beds, then he plunged onto the lumpy mattress that he was sleeping on earlier. He looked exhausted.
I have been having terrible dreams like the one I was just shaken awake to ever since my dad and I left our home for the road about three months ago. The dreams that I have are always filled with unimaginable monsters and demons, but out of all the monsters that I see, there is one that keeps making an appearance in my trouble mind. The man with the yellow eyes.
The sounds of my father's frustration bring be back to reality, "Jordy you aren't a kid anymore. Things like this shouldn't be happening! Especially now!"
I knew that my father was referring to our new life on the road. We had left our home in Texas a few months ago in search of a new purpose. Ever since my mother died about a year ago my father has been filled with crazy thoughts. I can remember him pacing back and forth in the living room for hours trying to convince me to go on this trip with him.
"This way we can just forget about your mother and everything will be back to normal." he explained, "We can leave the house for a few months and when we come back we'll have a fresh start."
Of course, I had to agree, I knew that I had my way of coping with mom's death and he had his, even if I disagreed with his.
My dad ran his hand over his face and stared up at the glass panel hotel ceiling. Looking up at it myself I realized how in need of money we really are.
"This trip was meant for us to be happy again, and I'm beginning to feel that it's only making the cause worse." My father looked at me with sorry eyes. When I looked into them I could see my own golden eyes staring back at me. Our eyes are one of the many traits that we share as father and daughter.
"I'm sorry dad." My voice came out small and broken. I could tell that my loud jolly self was not needed right now.
My dad moved from his bed to mine and sat next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as if I was still a six-year-old girl, "Don't be the sorry sweetheart. It's not your fault." He looked up at the ceiling again and sighed, "We'll just start going home tomorrow."
I looked up at him confused. Of course, I was happy to go home and see my friends again, but this trip was really important to my dad. I'm surprised that he gave it up so quickly.
"Are you sure?" I questioned
"Anything for my daughter," He said as he looked down at me, "Besides you're practically falling apart." with a smile he shook my shoulder, trying to cheer me up.
I giggle a little, "Thanks, dad, I feel much better." A sarcastic smirk spread across my face.
My father then kissed me on the forehead and I wrapped myself in the odd smelling covers on the hotel bed that I was sleeping in. When my father saw that both I and he were back under the covers he switched off the small lamp that was illuminating the room and both him and I plunged into darkness.