Her Wish, His Promise (Rewrite)

EIGHT

It’s less than fifteen minutes later when a sleek grey car pulls up to my apartment and that familiar face gets out. My hands still shake as I wrap them around me and try to stand. Ricky rushes over to me and is immediately frantically looking over me. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

I nod, wiping away the tears from my eyes, “I’m fine, I just want to get out of here.”

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into a hug. His warmth comforts me despite how frozen and terrified I remain on the inside. We walk to the car and I climb into the passenger seat, avoiding Ricky’s intense blue-eyed gaze.

The car is quiet as he drives away, allowing me to breathe for the first time in fuck knows how long. I stare out the window, forcing myself to focus on the speeding blur of the city as it passes by. I try not to close my eyes, due to what I see behind them.

“Mina, I know you don’t want to talk about it right now but we will discuss what happened later.” He says.

I nod. If only I had the words to describe what it felt like to watch the life get blasted out of him. I can barely remember to breathe, nonetheless realize that Jasper is dead. He's dead because he got too close to me. 

Sure I wanted him to pay for being such an ass, for playing games with me, but I never wanted him dead. I sure as hell didn't want to watch. Did he deserve to die? Was what he did or could have done really that bad? Is it even my call to make?

Oh my god, what has my life become?

“Mina!” Ricky suddenly exclaims.

“What?!” I cry out.

“Mina, look at me.” He commands.

I force myself to meet his eyes, they aren’t filled with fury and agitation like I expect. 

“Talk to me. What’s going on with you? You’ve barely said a word and you’re shaking.” He takes my hand and I squeeze it. 

I cover my face and sigh, “I don’t know if I should tell you. If it's safe.” I mutter.

“If it’s safety you’re concerned about then I know you should tell me. I have the resources to protect you if  you should need it, but I need you to trust me.” His eyes hyperfocus on me.

“I don’t want to tell you while you’re driving.” I state.

“Then talk to me about something else.” His deep voice offers. “What’s a song that is so bad you love it? And you can’t say Friday.” 

“Oh that’s easy, About That Life by Attila, or Payback. It’s such trash it’s iconic.” I giggle.

“Isn’t their lead singer kind of an ass?” He replies.

“I think that’s the whole personality of the band, how big of a douche their singer can be.” I explain.

“Aren’t they all?”

We pull up to a large building filled with windows and concrete. He slows the car, pulling into a large garage, and the gate closes behind us. Through the darkened windows of the car I see at least a dozen expensive sport’s cars surrounding us.

“Are these all yours?” I ask, the words spilling out of my mouth as I sit there, astounded.

“Who else’s would they be?” He says with a raised eyebrow.

I sigh, “that was kind of stupid question.”

He purses his lips, “it’s okay, I realize that it’s quite a bit to take in at once.”