Bones — Yolanda Olson

I'm haunted. Not by ghosts, but by a face I can't quite remember. Eyes that shine so brightly each time I see them, are now nothing more than a hazy memory. I'm consumed. The thoughts that whisper so quietly inside my mind when I'm sure I have this evil inside of me under control are becoming more persistent. I'm lost. I know where I need to be, but not quite sure if I'll get there. Will she ever show her face to me or will I always only see a blank slate of nothing? There are only a few simple things I know to be true: I'm not a messy man. I'm not a serial killer. I can stop anytime I want to. I am NOT crazy.