Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

“Yes.” Please, God, let this be the right thing to do. Colin squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, searching for some semblance of order among chaos before he faced Marek again. “Yes, okay? Yes. The night I was beaten and knifed was the most awful, frightening time in my life. I never felt so alone and like nobody would ever hear the screams in my head for help.” Colin jerked, unable to keep the reaction at bay. He grabbed his stomach, clutching it, as he hadn't been able to do the night one of his assailants cut him open. “I remember terrible pain, but I remember the fear more. Recovering afterward, physically anyway, I think hurt more than the attack itself, but in that alley, I was terrified in a way I've never come even close to knowing again.”

“I thought so.” Marek let go and dragged Colin's hand off his face. “Thank you for telling me. Christ.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Colin's temple, holding his mouth there for a prolonged beat of time. He whispered, “I'm so sorry,” got up, and ran out of the room.

Colin sat in a stupor as Marek sprinted away, leaving him again. His muscles ached with tension after suffering the recurrence of the dream and then reliving the emotions that gripped him during it, but righteous fire got him to his feet.

You're not running. Not this time. Not after what we just shared.

With every step he took, Colin's feet felt melded to the floor, making each movement a chore. Swirls of tingling spiraled up his legs and into his arms, crippling him. He tilted forward, reaching for the wall to help hold him upright. As soon as his hand hit, shards of overwhelming emotional pain knifed into his palm and up his arm, infecting his bloodstream and slamming him into the door frame.

Emotions that somehow became abstract pictures assaulted Colin's mind; enormous slashes of vivid red became drenched in black, snuffing out life itself. Colin gasped and tried to move, but the pictures created in vibrant crimson only to be doused out in soot kept flashing in front of his eyes, forcing him to see. Something powerful and full of gripping strength attacked Colin's body, locking him in place like fingers clawing up from the floor and wrapping around his ankles, holding him prisoner.

Wordless shrieks filled his head, drowning out everything else but the screams. Colin stumbled under the onslaught, and his back made full contact with the house. A language without words, one full of loss and need, became clear to Colin in a way he could feel deep in his marrow, and he finally understood.

What you're doing to this place, Marek, and to me. Pushing away from the wall, Colin tried to shut out the unbearable hurt snaking its way into his very being. Oh God. He begged without a voice. Please stop.

The house wouldn't let go of him, and Colin cried out in shared grief and pain as he hit the floor.

The shout from Colin sliced a chill through Marek, and the crash got his heart racing and him tearing back down the stairs.

“Colin!” Marek screeched to a halt as he spotted Colin curled on the floor. “Shit.” He found his legs again, scrambled to Colin's side, and dropped to his knees. Slipping his hand around Colin's neck, Marek gently tilted his face up from the floor.

“It's you.” Colin blinked, revealing such brightness in his eyes it stole Marek's breath. “And this.” He darted his gaze all around the house and scraped his hand across the wall.

“Jesus Christ.” Marek pulled Colin to a sitting position and ran his hands all over the man, checking for damage. He didn't have the skills to get into the guy's head. “What the hell happened to you?”

Colin reached out and brushed his fingers over Marek's heart. “You have to stop being so sad.” He climbed on Marek's lap and buried his face in the crook of his neck. “We can't take it anymore.” Strong arms squeezed around Marek's shoulders, and Colin burrowed in closer. “Please.” His voice was muffled, and his words didn't make any sense, but the desperation seeped into Marek's very flesh. “Please. Please.”

Marek gathered Colin in close and rubbed his palm up and down the length of his quivering back. “Shh, shh. It's all right. Just breathe.” Marek pressed soft kisses to Colin's shoulder and nape. “Everything is going to be all right. I'm taking you up to my bedroom. Okay?”

Colin nodded against Marek's neck and held on even tighter.

“Okay,” Marek said gently, trying his best to soothe.

Shifting to his knees, Marek curled one arm around Colin's back and the other under his legs. He shoved to his feet, his back holding strong even with such a big man in his arms. In this moment, Marek's burden somehow felt precious and fragile, even though Colin was covered in probably close to two hundred pounds of sinewy muscle. Marek climbed the stairs at a steady pace, one at a time, all the while pressing his lips into Colin's hair and whispering words that he would make everything better. Marek didn't know how in the hell he planned to keep that promise; he was hardly a success at keeping his own life held together. He would try though.

He couldn't bear to see and feel this level of hurt in Colin ever again.

Marek entered his bedroom and set Colin on his feet beside the bed, holding his elbows until Colin got his footing back. “Just hold there for a second.” Marek peeled back the lightweight comforter and folded it out of the way. “All right.” He helped ease Colin down onto the mattress. “In you go.” A brisk, after-storm breeze entered the room through the open window and brushed a slight chill across Marek's bare back. He immediately grabbed the comforter again, asking, “Do you want the cover?”

Colin shook his head. He rolled onto his back and lifted a hand out