The knife against my throat prevented me from gulping. I forced a smile, "Hey, Ares. Terrible weather we're having today, huh?"
"What are you doing in my house," he repeated sternly. He didn't appreciate my humor, I could see that in his dead eyes.
I glanced my eyes down at the knife before meeting his eyes again. I asked, "Could you remove the knife first?"
He stayed exactly where he was, and I searched for emotion in his brown eyes. But found nothing.
I began to feel nervous until he suddenly removed the knife, looking down at me with confusion on his face. I awkwardly looked to the side and said, "I may or may not have broken in."
"Yea. I've pieced that together. Why?"
I hesitated to tell him, looking down at the ground. He put his hand on my chin, forcing my head up. He told me, "Look me in the eyes and tell me."
There was something about him at this moment. His deep voice gave me goosebumps, his brown hair that looked disheveled like he'd been up to something before this. My voice came out quiet, "I wanted to find out why you went to prison."
He stared at me before moving his eyes up and down my body. He removed his hand and asked me, "You really want to know?"
I forced a nod.
He crossed his muscular arms, veins popping slightly out of his arms and hands. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and said, "Come with me."
╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝
I was correct when I said he drives like a lunatic. This man is speeding, other drivers on the road giving us dirty looks. I had once again tried to turn the radio on and was once again shot down. I'm starting to think that if music plays it makes his roboticness glitch.
After a while, I sighed, "Where are we going? The North Pole?"
"Remember that time where we were just silent for 15 minutes?" he glanced at me. "Yea, let's do that again."
I rolled my eyes, "You're supposed to protect me, not bully me."
"I'm being far nicer right now than I should be. You can't break into people's fucking houses, Mia. Doing that stupid shit will get you hurt."
I nodded. I know that I shouldn't have done that.
He pulled into a parking lot at an abandoned diner, the gravel parking lot crunching underneath the wheels. Once he parked in front of it, he stared at it for a moment. While looking at it, he told me, "I killed 2 people here."
My eyes widened. I was prepared for a lot of things, but murder wasn't one of them.
"You're...a murderer?" I question. Although I say the word, I don't fully feel the weight of it.
"Occasionally," he shrugs. I raise my eyebrows at him. "Two counts of second-degree murder. Sentenced to 15 years, served 5."
I nearly stuttered, "So, did you get out on good behavior?"
"I'm glad you think so highly of me," he said sarcastically. "But no, I got released because they found somebody else's DNA at the crime scene, proving my innocence."
"But, you just said you killed them?" my eyebrows lowered.
"I did. Had somebody on the outside plant it, although the sick fuck I blamed it on deserved to be in prison way longer than me."
I had a million questions. What friend would do that? How'd you kill them? Who did you kill? But the question I wanted to have answered the most was, "Why'd you do it?"
