Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(88)

Need something to drink? I’ve got my rum.

Are you almost done? I would be, if you’d leave me the fuck alone.

I scrub my hands over my face, groaning, squeezing my eyes shut, but I instantly regret it.

Whenever I close my eyes, I see her. Scarlet.

I see her smiling. I see her crying. I hear her laughter flowing through me, sending chills down my spine. The sound of her moaning creeps through my bloodstream, the face she makes in the throes of passion the pulse that spurs it on. Whatever this is I’m feeling, I want it to stop. I want it to go away. I want to stop fucking seeing her every time I blink. I want to stop fucking thinking about her every time I pause to take a deep breath. She’s like an infection that’s settling into my chest. I would rip out my own organs if I thought it might purge her from my system.

I need a witchdoctor to break the spell this woman has on me.

“Goddamn voodoo pussy,” I mutter, snatching up the liquor bottle and tipping it back, guzzling the last of it before turning back to the puzzle. Almost finished.

You’d think it would be easier, since I’m nearing the end, most of it all filled in, but you’d be wrong.

Everything that’s left looks the same.

Or maybe I’m just drunk.

Who the fuck knows?

The world around me is lightening again as I get down to a handful of pieces, the sun rising, another day dawning. I snap the pieces in place, looking at the lone jagged hole in the center of the puzzle, right there in The Creation of Adam, probably the most important part of the entire painting.

My gaze scans the table all around the puzzle, searching for the last piece.

Nothing.

“What the hell?” Annoyed, I feel around along the edges, hands skimming along the puzzle, thinking it has to be blending in, but I find nothing. “You have gotta be fucking kidding me.”

I look around the table. I look under the table. I check my chair. I check inside the box. I search the bookshelves and all along the floor and every fucking place a puzzle piece could possibly be in this room.

“No, no, no,” I chant, double-checking half those places, even patting down my own pockets, because it has to be somewhere. I’m exhausted, and aggravated, and I just want this goddamn thing to be done, to get it over with so I can move on. For months, I’ve been working on this puzzle, weeks of my life spent putting it together, and for what? Huh? To leave a hole in the center of the goddamn picture so for the rest of my life I have to live with the fact that I never finished what I started, that I never got it done?

“Motherfucker!” I yell, kicking the chair, sending it flying across the room, skidding right into the bookshelf with a bang.

“Lorenzo?” Leo’s voice calls out from the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“His dick is gone!”

“His... what? What’s gone?”

“His dick,” I say again, pointing at the damn hole in the puzzle, right there, cutting through Adam’s crotch, cutting it out, so there’s nothing in that spot. “God is breathing life into man, but his dick is gone, so what’s the point?”

“What’s the point?”

“Can’t fuck,” I say, anger building up inside of me, my fingers tingling, my chest burning, my face going hot. I’m sweating. “Can’t even take a piss. He’s just there, half a goddamn man... can’t do a fucking thing for Eve like that, can he? No, he can’t! Even his goddamn balls are gone. There’s just... nothing. There’s a fucking hole there, Leonardo, right where his dick’s supposed to be, and I can’t do shit about it!”

He steps into the library, carefully approaching. “You’re spiraling, bro. I think you need to go lay down.”

“Fuck you. And fuck laying down. I’m fine. Sleep isn’t going to change a goddamn thing, is it? There’s still going to be a hole, right fucking there. It’s not going to just fix itself. It’s pointless... all of it. All of this. I bust my ass trying to put it all together, but why do I bother? Fuck all of it!”

Something inside of me snaps, hitting me so damn hard it’s like a punch to the chest, right in the sternum. It hurts. I almost lose my breath. Grabbing ahold of the table, I shove it, throwing it, flipping the fucking thing over, sending the puzzle flying. It breaks apart, scattering.

Leo freezes as I pace around. It’s taking everything in me not to reach for my gun, to not put bullets through the table, to not blow holes in the fucking thing. Running my hands through my hair, gripping onto it, I kick at the puzzle on the floor, stomping on it as I pace, done... so fucking done.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

I cut my eyes at Leo. “What?”

“Morgan,” he says. “You fell in love with her.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” he says. “You fell for her, and you’re freaking out, because she’s not here now.”

“Fuck you.”

“You do realize it’s not too late, right?”

I turn away. I can’t even look at him right now. I’m so damn angry that I’m liable to do something I’ll regret if he doesn’t stop running his mouth. “Get out.”

“I’m serious,” he says, not shutting up, not getting out. “You push people away. You push everyone away, and you’re a real dick about it most of the time, but she’s not gone, Lorenzo. She’s still out there.”