Change of Perspective

In the hands of a murderer

Murder...
Murder...
He said murder.
I'm in the hands of a murderer
Murder.
Mur-

"Allie, say something."

I raise my head, looking towards the voice.

"I know you're awake."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What are you thinking?"
That you killed someone.
I'm debating if I should be scared or not.
I'm wondering why you did it.
Who did you kill?

"Was it...?"

"Self defense?"

I wasn't sure what I was going to ask.

I waited for him to say yes. Waited for him to say he was being kidnapped. That it was an accident. That it was someone trying to harm him. Someone that was closer to deserving death than someone who wasn't.

He never said any of these things.

"No."
No.
He did it on purpose.
He killed someone.
Who?
Ohmigod.
How?
Why?
When?
Was it a kid?
Was it an adult?
What did he use?

"Wh-wha-how-uhg...never..mind."

"Do you what to know about it?"

"Do I?"

He sighed.

"Its not pretty, not like Jerra and Chance."

"Kinda figured that." I mumbled. His heart beat beneath me. The stained shirt smelled of dirt, wood and something else. Body heat rose through the fabric, warming me. Heat also radiated from his imprisoning hand, turning the warm room hot and uncomfortable.

But did I want to look at his face? Did I want to see the expression there? Or did I want to be exposed to the gaze of him, along with four others?
Do I even want to know about it?

An undeniable part of me wanted desperately to know, to be able to see a good reason behind it. A reason that had to be there.

A smaller part of me was scared I wouldn't be able to find that reason.
You won't know until you ask.
He murdered someone, this isn't telling him I have feelings for him, its murder.
But isn't it better to know, rather than making assumptions?
I'm not making assumptions.

"You don't need to tell me."

"That's not answering the question."

I sprawl out, laying my head on the rising surface beneath me, hearing the heart beat and breathing as air entered and exited his lungs.