Heat licked at the edges of my vision. It was flames. There was fire all around me. I spun around and saw the source. A large Victorian style house stood proud with flames spitting from the windows.

Suddenly, a blur fell from the highest window. It was a body. Looking up I saw a girl with long blonde hair. She was beautiful. I could tell she was beautiful even through her tears. In seconds, the fire engulfed her body. I looked down at the body that fell from the window. No, it hadn't fallen. She had thrown the body down.

I rush over to the small form. The figure has the same soft blond hair as the girl. That was until it changed. The hair had turned jet black as I ran towards it. Before I can reach out and check the damage, the figure disappears. I look up to the house to find it is also gone. Everything around me is black.

I look around frantically. There is no way to escape. My thoughts are instantly calmed as I turn to find myself in a large field. I can see that same victorian house in the distance. I take in the breathtaking view. The clear blue sky, the sun shining, the children laughing as they run around. I hone my vision in on the children. It's the girl from before. She can't be more than six years old. The boy looks to be the same age. That's when the realization hit: they're twins.

She threw him out the window. She saved her twin.

Then I was back. The vibrant landscape gave way to the ashes and flames from before. This time, the figure didn't disappear as I came closer.

I have to save the boy.

My heart was racing as I pulled his head into my lap. His hair turned black once more. and he opened his eyes. I was met with familiar and beautiful blue orbs.

Cameron?

Suddenly, as if I had willed him into existence, the boy's features aged rapidly. I was indeed, staring straight at Cameron.

With a gasp, I shot out of bed. My thoughts ran through all the possibilities. Is that why he's a Luma? He's an orphan? Is his black hair his 'feature'? So many questions without confirmed answers. I thought back to the picture in his duffle bag. I willed myself to remember the soft face of the seven-year-old boy. It was the same one. How had my brain created such a story?

Can you even dream in a dream?

I rolled to my side. I tried to fall back to sleep, but sleep never came. Before I knew it, Adriana was waking me up for breakfast. I slipped my beat-up tennis shoes on and followed the girl downstairs. Everyone else was already seated at the table. Everyone except Chloe. Adriana seemed close to her, so I asked her where she was. The girl shrugged and asked the older woman about Chloe. She also shrugged and moved from her seat. Adriana had addressed the older woman as Jean. I recognized her as the one who cleaned up our plates last night. There were so many people here that I feared I would never learn all of their names.

I scarfed down my food, though not as fast as Adriana had, and examined everyone else. Everyone was already finished except for Cameron. He had dark spots beneath his eyes. I watched as he occasionally stabbed his eggs with the fork.

Before I could ask him if he was okay, a shriek sounded from upstairs. I jumped to my feet. Cameron was already heading up the stairs. I looked around the table at the wide-eyed people. Noone dared to speak. I raced after Cameron. After reaching the top of the landing I spotted him outside of a door. Chloe's door. He stepped inside and I ran in after him. Was Chloe hurt?

I rushed into the room to see her, but Chloe was nowhere to be found. Instead, I found Jeans's old form sitting on the bed caressing something. It was a piece of grey and maroon cloth. Cameron went over to console the woman. I had no clue what was going on.

Has she faded? Whatever that means. Did she run away?

Confusion must have been an apparent emotion on my face. When Cameron turned to me he frowned slightly, "Chloe faded."

My heart stopped, "What does that mean? Where is she?" I asked earnestly. I had only just gotten to know the British girl. She had confided in me and I in her. My first real connection since my father passed away.

Cameron shook his head and walked past me. Without looking back he said, "It means we will never see her again. It's the equivalent of death here. I believe she made something for you."

My knees buckled. I felt as if my world had crumbled.

When do you fade? When will I fade?

Fear laced its way into the pain and I scrambled to find something to console me. After Cameron exited the room. Jean looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. She marched over to the door and looked both ways. She seemed to be checking for something. She quickly pulled my shaken form into the room. The sudden movement threatened my buckled knees to give out.

She looked at me with pained eyes, "Chloe trusted you, so I trust you. Be careful." She said the words so fast that I wasn't even sure if she had actually spoken then. She gave me a sad smile and walked out the door. It took me a moment to realize that she had slipped something into my hand. It was the piece of fabric she had been clutching so tightly. I held up the cloth to get a better look. It was a shirt.

My shirt.

I knew this is what Cameron had mentioned. She made me a shirt before she faded. The thought hadn't fully hit me as I admired the handiwork. The deep maroon sleeves were gingerly attached to the dark gray base. My eyes followed 4 mismatched buttons that would rest on top of my breasts. It was amazing. I felt tears well in my eyes. She had cared enough to make something so beautiful for me. This feeling was something I hadn't felt in a very long time. I kept on a strong front as I hurried to my room; the shirt tucked firmly into my fist.

What was Jean talking about?

There was still so much for me to learn. I made it to my wing and shut my door firmly behind me. I didn't even make it to the bed when I broke down in tears. I cried into the shirt for hours. I cried for the girl I barely knew. I cried for my father who I missed dearly. I cried for the others who had faded too. I was not the empathetic type, but today, someone had cared about me. Someone had left me with a gift. It would be rude to bottle in my emotions.

So much time had passed that I was looking at a large white moon through my window. I rubbed at my puffy red eyes and walked over to the chair. I sat in the chair and watched the stars twinkling around the sky. They were beautiful, but I could not appreciate them tonight. I held up the shirt once more. This time, it was illuminated by the strong moonlight. I had been crying into the fabric all day, but I was only now noticing the hole. At the bottom corner of the shirt was a small pinky sized hole. I moved the shirt to get a better look. The rest of Chloe's work had been very consistent

Why would she poke a hole in it?

The memory of her shining face as we conversed last night haunted my thoughts. I noticed that the thread around the hold was broken. This hole had not been intentional. It was a tear. But why would Chloe do that? My mind flipped through memories of her to search for a reason. The others also wore her hand made clothes, but none, that I could recall, had holes in them. My brain latched onto a certain detail. All of them except Adriana. The skirt of her pink dress had a hold in it that was approximately the same size.

What could it mean?

I thought back to when I arrived. Chloe was the first person I met. She had wanted to tell me something. She was terrified.

Why hadn't she told me when we were alone last night?

Thoughts scurried around in my head.

What does it mean to fade?