Too long. It was too painful to look outside, especially during this time of the year when she knew the leaves were turning. She kept her head down as she headed for her car. The park. Yes, she’d head there, to one of her favorite spots in all of Blackstone.
Soon she was pulling into an empty parking spot in Lucas Lennox Park. She crossed the lawn, heading to the row of benches on the other side, which offered a breathtaking view of the mountains. Her fox bared its teeth and barked viciously.
Ignoring her animal, she reached for the sketchpad and opened it to the front page. Her heart pounded, and her throat felt dry and panic rose in her. No, please. How long was this going to go on?
Someone plopping down on the bench next to her made her startle. The young woman was staring up at the mountains, so mesmerized she didn’t realize Dutchy was there. “Are you all right?” she asked, putting the pad and pencils on her lap.
The woman jerked, her head toward her. Pretty, Dutchy thought. A few years younger than her, maybe. Her pale hair flowed around her, but what caught Dutchy’s gaze were the tears pooling in her eyes.
“Um, yeah, I guess.” She quickly wiped the tears away. “Sorry, was I disturbing you?”
Dutchy sighed. “No, not at all.” How could she be disturbed when she wasn’t doing anything? “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The woman mumbled something, but she didn’t hear it. The mountains seemed to call to her again, despite her fox’s aversion to them. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Yeah. They are.”
They didn’t talk anymore as they both beheld the sight before them. Time passed. How long, she didn’t know. Shadows passed over the mountains, indicating that the sun was setting. As long as she kept her mind blank, her fox didn’t protest or make a sound. As long as she didn’t think of—
“Are you an artist?”
Dutchy hummed, not sure how to answer.
“Do you come here often? To draw the mountains?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t draw landscapes.”
“What are you doing, then?”
What was she doing? That was a question she asked herself a lot. As her life crumbled around her, every day she wondered what she was doing.
Turning to the mountains, the gaping hole in her heart grew even bigger. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Trying to find color.”
The truth rang in her head as she stared down at the pad in her hand. She didn’t fear what was inside the pages. No, she feared what wasn’t in there.
Nothing.
Pages and pages of nothing.
“Miss? What’s wrong?”
Her fox hissed with anger. “I have to go.” She bounced to her feet and dashed away as fast as her shifter abilities could take her. She didn’t even know where she was going, and she had dropped the pad and pencils somewhere along the way.
A knife-like pain stabbed her in the chest. No, today wasn’t the day she was going to turn her life back around. It wasn’t the day she would pick up the pieces that had slowly been falling away.
This was her life now. Colorless. Literally. Wherever she looked, she could only see shades of gray, black, and white. What a fucking joke. How could she design and find inspiration when she couldn’t see color?
At some point she had shifted into her fox’s body, and she felt relief that it could just take over. The fox ran through the trees, jumping over roots, diving through piles of leaves. In animal form, she could forget herself. In the beginning, when she started losing the color, this had been her comfort. It was fading slower as a fox, but eventually its world turned black and white too. But in here, at least, she could still smell and taste and feel.
Run. Run as fast as you can. Not that she could outrun the shadow that loomed over her. It was a like a raincloud she couldn’t escape. Not since that day her soul tore in half. It sent her into a spiral, into a hole she’d been desperately trying to crawl out of for months.
Maybe today was the day.
The day she gave up.
Chapter Five
If someone told him months ago that he’d be out and about, getting a drink at a bar, Krieger would have laughed in their faces.
But here he was, at the local watering hole, staring into a tall glass of frothy, ice-cold beer. Of course, he was in a private room in the back, far from the