Xtras

X. In her absence

I've always existed in a world devoid of color, a life etched in stark black and white. I reveled in the simplicity of it, the uncomplicated predictability. But then she came along, a girl full of life and color, constantly trying to puncture my grayscale existence with her vibrant spirit.

One day, under the heavy gray sky, I stopped her. I looked into her eyes, bright and hopeful, and I saw a reflection of a life I could never have. "My life is black," I told her, my voice barely above a whisper, "so don't try to color it." She stared at me, her eyes wide, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. She turned on her heel and walked away, her colorful aura slowly fading into the distance. The silence that followed was a vacuum, sucking away the remnants of color she'd brought into my life.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The world continued to spin, but she was nowhere to be found. I started to notice her absence, like a missing piece in a puzzle. I missed her laughter, her endless chatter, the way she would look at me with those hopeful eyes. I realized I loved her. But the fear of revealing my true self to her was paralyzing.

I am a serial killer. I live in the shadows, my hands stained with the blood of my victims. I am haunted by their faces, their pleas for mercy echoing in my mind. I was terrified of her becoming another face, another echo. So I kept my secret, my reality, locked away.

Now, she's gone. I'm left alone in my monochrome world, a world where love is a luxury I can't afford. I'm left wondering if I'll ever see her again. The thought of losing her to the darkness I'm entangled in is unbearable. I can only hope she's safe, far away from my reality. I yearn for her, for the color she brought into my life, but all I'm left with is the stark contrast of black and white.