Zev lay on his side, staring at the cracked ceiling of the motel room. Sleep refused to come, slipping between his fingers no matter how still he lay, no matter how many times he shut his eyes. His mind was too loud.
The past clawed at him, memories slipping in like whispers through the gaps in the walls. He thought about his older brother—his presence, his absence. The way he used to protect him when they were kids, before he left. Before they all left, one by one.
His chest tightened.
Grandma had tried to hold them all together. Eight kids. Eight mouths to feed. Eight sets of hands tugging at her clothes, asking for something—anything. She'd done her best. She'd done more than her best. He remembered the warmth of her hands, the steady rhythm of her voice when she told them stories. He remembered the smell of rice and herbs in the air, the way she hummed under her breath when she cooked. He hadn't heard that hum in years.
He missed her.
But she was gone. And so was everyone else.
Zev exhaled, staring blankly at the shadows stretching across the ceiling. Words formed in his head, weaving themselves together, pressing against his skull. He closed his eyes and let them spill into thought, one after another, a quiet rhythm only he could hear.
One left when I was two.
One left me behind.
Broken promises, voices fading into distance.
One left for a dream.
One left for something better.
One left without a goodbye.
One left when I wasn't looking.
And one... one left behind when I tried to get a better life.
His throat tightened. The words sat heavy in his chest, pressing into the spaces where warmth used to be.
But they weren't real. Just a poem. Just something he made up to pass the time.
Zev turned onto his back, his body restless despite his exhaustion. His fingers found the fabric of Elias's jacket, still wrapped around his shoulders. It smelled like clean laundry, like warmth, like something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He clenched it tighter, pulling it closer, pressing his face into it.
For once, the cold didn't bite as much.
His breathing steadied.
And finally, finally, sleep took him.
YOU ARE READING
A Ghost With No Name- Bl- Officer and Thief
Romance"But you say my name like it's something to keep, like it's worth more than echoes, more than the deep. So tell me, strange lantern, strange man with no chains- what do you want from a ghost with no name?" A slow-burn romance where a hardened...
