Chapter 5
I Am Here Waiting to Save You
I could almost hear them—the faint whispers in the dark, curling around the edges of my consciousness like ghosts. I could almost feel them on my skin, a breath that never quite touched me, a presence that never fully arrived.
Night after night, I found myself chasing the color of your whiskey eyes at the bottom of a bottle, tilting it back, hoping—aching—for the amber burn to match.
But it never did. The liquid swirled, rich and golden, but it was flat, lifeless.
Nothing like the way your eyes used to catch the light, flickering with something untamed, something alive.
Something that used to make me feel alive. Something that used to be mine.
But that feeling is gone now.
All that I have left is a heap of indelible memories and a whiskey bottle that fails to mirror your eyes, and neither quenches my thirst.