It was a beautiful painting, the one that talked about the connection between the death side and the life side. It was something like a Vincent Van Gogh painting, except that it was my own painting that involved the unstable girl under the shadow of her own father as he smiled down at her.
My fingers tenderly touched the painting in front of me in a white dress that touched the black floor as my smile widened when I saw dad emerging from the painting to hold out his hand to me.
"Lia, darling," my dad whispered with an elated smile as his hand clasped mine, drawing my footsteps forward with a giggle of my own.
"Dad, I'm home finally," I cheered as he chuckled with me and invited me along as my eyes went closer to the painting.
I turned around to find a handsome dark-suited knight, "I'm
