19
SILVER
I've barely slept in days.
I have no appetite.
And it feels like I've lost part of my soul.
I don't know if I've ever felt like this, and I don’t think I'd wish it on my worst enemy.
Imissher. Like deep in my bones, a visceral throbbing in my soul kind of miss.
I can't stop thinking about her.
Her lips. Her smile. Her perfect little nose. Those bright blue eyes. The way her face was speckled with blood when I found her. God, and the things we did in my kitchen...
I ache in places that I thought were dormant for the rest of my life.
And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
I've texted her. I've reached out. I've sort of stalked her. And that will have to be enough.
If she wants to contact me, she will. I can't force the issue.
But do I want to drive to her work and throw her over my shoulder and disregard whether she protests or not as I bring her back to my place and lock her away so she can never leave me again? Yes, yes I do.
I hate the rational side of me that prevents that from happening.
I've never been clingy in my entire life. I've never lusted or chased after a woman like this. I've never wanted to literally carve my heart out of my chest and hand it to someone on a silver platter the way I want to with her.
I hardly know her. We spent one night together. And somehow that night set the course for my entire life, the lightbulb on my story finally flickering to life.
I rake my hand through my hair. "You're being an idiot, Silver. She's just a girl." I clench my jaw and grunt, knowing damn well that's not the truth. She's so much more, and anyone who comes within five feet of her would be able to recognize that.
Maybe this is what I get for refusing to keep my heart tucked away for all these years. The second I sensed a potential match, I turned into a blubbering mess and completely disregarded my very nature.
I am a lone wolf. I am a criminal. I am not a good man.
Why would I ever assume that I would be a good partner? Let alone what Cora deserves.
I should forget about her. That would be better for everyone involved.
"Are you going to throw him in there, or should I?" The guy at the morgue, Ronny, asks me.
"I've got it," I tell him and latch onto the bloodied man wrapped in plastic, hoisting him into the cremation oven.
"What's on your mind, Silver?" He pulls the white surgical mask down below his chin.
"Nothing, sorry, just a bit distracted."
Ronny widens his eyes. "It's unlike you is all."
"I know." And that's why I must make it stop. I have to forget about her.
I have to accept that what we had was great, and temporary.
I'm too cold and heartless to have feelings anyway.
