The Want of the Heart - R. G. (#Wattys2017)

bonus: The Girl Who Never Got To Leave

He walked through the bitter cold, his footprints left in the snow that covered the cemetery grounds. They buried me
near my grandparents on the other side of town. Roman stood in front of my gravestone, looking down at the frosted, snow-covered remnants of flowers. He took a deep breath, steam coming from his mouth.

He didn't carry anything. He ordered flowers that were to be delivered to my grave every week. I wasn't sure why he did it; it could've been guilt, or he just hadn't been able to move on from the grief of my death. It's not easy trying to live after having someone die in your arms.

I passed away right there on his floor, bloodstains left all over his clothes. He took the arrow out of me and left it in my murderer's head. After everything happened, he came back to the room he left my body in, and that's when everyone found me. Peter, that girl that carried him in, and the blonde girl that opened the door that night, Miranda.

Peter stared in shock, while the two girls looked on, giving the two boys I went to school with their sympathy. I saw the hints of tears in Peter's eyes as he brushed a piece of hair out of my face. Then, Roman picked me up and cradled me in his arms, sparing not a single bit of emotion as he sobbed. The others just watched; except for Peter. Peter stood by his best friend, resting a hand on his shoulder and looking anywhere but the sight of my corpse.

He took a dark turn after that. Getting involved with things that he shouldn't have been, killing more innocent people, sleeping with women that he didn't even know. Losing me triggered something in him that I don't think he ever would have wanted.

"I still regret letting you get hurt," he said to my gravestone. "I should have been there to protect you. I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

He looked around, stuffing his hands into his pockets and taking a deep breath. "You were supposed to have a good life. You deserved so much more than this shit-hole that you were unfortunate to spend your whole life in. You sure deserved better than me too; I was a fucking asshole." He laughed at that, and he was sure that I would have laughed too.

"I came to tell you I'm getting ready to do something pretty fucking stupid. You would have asked me what I was doing and probably told me not to do it. Then I would tell you I didn't have a choice." He sighed. "I came to say my goodbyes, pretty girl." He pressed his lips to the palm of his hand and rested his hand on top of my gravestone. Then, he walked away.

I wouldn't have been able to do anything to help him if I were alive. Peter would have still turned into a werewolf, and Roman would have still been thrown out the window to fall to his death.

Roman lays there on the ground, wheezing for air as Peter in his werewolf form walks over and rips out Roman's heart with his razor-sharp teeth. Peter's snow-white fur is stained crimson with blood as he walks away, spitting out Roman's heart.

Roman chokes on his blood, and that's when he sees me. I look like I did that last night. Instead of the blood and the mess, I look cleaned up. My hair is done how it was, my makeup wasn't smudged, and my clothes weren't bloody and torn. I look like a pretty girl.

There's a hint of a smirk on his lips before his eyes roll back into his head. Then, it happens.

Roman Godfrey is no more.