At first, it was anger. Anger that she simply up and left without even a word to me. She could have waited and tried to talk to me. But she chose the coward's way out. Once the weeks went by, anger was replaced with worry. Was she alright? Where was she? What about her scholarship? Was she eating properly? What about money? Did she have enough money for an apartment in a decent neighborhood? After the worry came a wealth of hurt. How could she so easily walk away from me?
But as the years flew by, her presence became like a ghost. My wolf has gone quiet and bitter. It's lost interest in everything. And I'm just fighting for survival, hoping that perhaps one day, I'll see her again.
Sighing, I bury my own pain inside my heart and pull into the parking lot.
Getting out of the car, I look
