Ten years have gone and nothing changes. My father haunts my dreams and the man that pulled me from the fire is a flickering memory. The many attempts I've made to find the truth have been futile. Nobody, not even George, wants to tell me what happened to him. Did he die in a terrorist incident? Did he commit suicide? So many rumors, almost no fact.
Opening my eyes, I lock onto the notebook on the desk. The purple bookmark hangs over the edge and I run my finger along the soft fabric. Looking at the cover, the title brings a sudden rush of emotion.
I have read the words so many times I could write this book from memory. Every page is a picture from those nine days we knew each other. It seems like such a short span of time when I see it in print - nine days. How can it be that we only had nine days? Father took what he pleased for almost three years, but the Gods gave me less than two weeks of happiness. Take your Gods, I don't need them anymore.
Ana enters the bedroom and I remove the headphones. No matter how sour my mood, I can't help smiling when I see her. Dark, thick hair and intense coal-black eyes of a rare beauty, she walks towards me wearing only a white silk robe dotted with pink flowers.
"Why are you awake?" I ask. "The market is closed today, why get up this early?"
"I heard the music and wanted to see how your doing," she says, caressing my hair and kissing me on a cheek. "You've been so sad lately. I wish you would smile more often."
Sighing, I enjoy the touch of her hand against my skin and wish I could be happy. But, everything I ever wanted was ripped from my grasp and shattered on the concrete hell of my life. Ana pushes the bowl into my hand and kisses my cheek again.
"Smoke," she says, changing the song on the stereo before wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "And tell me what you want done with your new friend from the bar."
The thought makes me smile. What do I want done to him? Now that you ask, let me think on that a moment. I take a deep hit, enjoying the lightness that swims in my brain. Letting the music take me, I slide deeper and deeper within myself, only aware of Ana's touch and the sadness of Pink Floyd.