Recollection

twenty-eight | favorite person

Song: Gigi Perez – Sailor Song

The world around me felt hollow, an echo chamber of routine where I clung to anything that kept my mind off him.

I wanted to feel anything.

Anything at all.

I spent all my time with my family, drowning in the comforting noise of their lives, and what time was left I covered any mafia-related demands that came up, and every little distraction I could muster. I just needed not to think about him, to block his face, his voice, the hollow in my chest. But sometimes, it slipped past. My shield cracked. I started wondering... could I hate him a little? Just enough to turn the pain into anger?

At what point do I admit out loud that I just needed not to think about him and simply distracted myself from thoughts of him evading my mind?

Can I kill him a little bit?

Fucking hell don't you have anything better to do?

I'm literally stuck in your head, you are turning out to be a boring person. Fucking hell, don't you have anything better to do? It's boring in here. We haven't killed anyone in days—DAYS, woman, DAYS! I need blood, for the thrill, the rush! To survive.

She was right... I hadn't even gone to deal with Flynn yet. I didn't want to go in there yet to face him. I only passed outside his cell once to make sure he was securely chained to the floor and walls. A metal collar and shackles to his wrists and ankles kept him in place. My family had their turn with him. Even Asa went in there. He was the first actually, after the Spanish delivered him to us with the note to keep the collar on him all the time.

Don't turn all bloodthirsty on me now, shut up 'cause you've started sounding like the vampire in Rosalyn's novel.

What? I like that guy. That guy's great. I kind of wish he wasn't fictional.

And even if he wasn't you are in my head, so shut up.

Never.

Focus. I needed to push thoughts of him away. Center myself. I needed my mind to focus. Focus on my businesses, focus on my family, focus on my friends, and most importantly focus on myself.

If I said I was alright enough times would it turn into reality?

Probably not, but who am I to have an opinion after all, I'm just a piece in your head. Nothing important, but please continue mopping over loverboy, it's weirdly intriguing and fascinating to witness firsthand.

Ugh...Aren't you tired?

Of you? Never.

If I promise you we will see some blood in Ireland will you be quiet?