Prologue
BRUNO
Somewhere in Arabia…
The city lights up as the sun goes down, a country run only by rich man that shines in misery and debauchery.
This place breaks my bones.
I had almost everything.
But she slipped from my hands. She was mine for just a moment, and it was the best moment of my life.
My love for Sarah is like an ocean on fire.
Alive and dangerous.
As I said, I had almost everything, and now I’m here to finish the mission that took my life away.
Chapter One
SARAH
The tattoo machine buzzes over my skin, driving the needle up and down a thousand times per second, pushing ink into my skin.
The device’s monotonous noise relaxes me.
“Today is our last session, I can hardly believe it,” Jonathan, my tattoo artist says.
I’ve witnessed his work for two years now. So much talent. The art I now have on me is truly magnificent.
He is a fucking great artist.
I still remember the day I decided to cover my body with tattoos as if it was yesterday. It took a great deal of courage and consideration, because…you know… I have issues…particularly with needles.
Yes, needles are my biggest obstacle.
Oh boy! Bruno left a mark on me in more ways than one.
I couldn’t see, feel or think about needles. That’s why Jonathan suggested I should test them and make a decision after figuring out whether I could handle the pain. So, after we got that out of the way, I realized that sometimes, fear is the master of false emotions, and it is so powerful that it can overwhelm even a few of your virtues.
The first one to go is your ability to guesstimate how much something will hurt, which is why, when I think of needles… I reallythinkof needles. With that in mind, it’s no wonder that I didn’t realize the pain from having the tattoo would feel more like a ladybug walking on my skin. This pain is nothing compared to what I was used to feeling; in fact I could easily stand this pain for hours.
I suppose I should thank Bruno for that.
My second obstacle was that I was unsure if I really wanted to hide my scars.
The thing is, those scars are the only memory of Bruno that I have left, that I can use as a reminder that he was someone in my life, someone real, someone I still love.
Cute? Maybe.
Romantic? Definitely.
“Huh… Creepy much? Cute. Romantic… How about, are you fucking kidding me?” Shit. Life is here.
It has been two years since the day that I found his letter. Two years with a broken, silent and dead heart. Two years since I started to search for him like a crazy person, but every time a new clue is unearthed, it turns out to be a dead end.
Nada.
