"Uhm.. Sir? Can I help you?" I mumble while staring at him.
He breaks out into a huge grin, the kind of grin you see on little kids when they get their favorite toy.
He reaches out to me, and I start to fall backwards trying to move away. He latch...
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Author's Note:
Sorry it's a little late. This is mostly a filler chapter to lead into what's coming. I haven't edited it yet to get it out asap. Hope you enjoy. Remember to vote please. <3
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"Now let's get this done."
...
After telling Ryder this, I grabbed onto his hand, pulling his muscled arm upwards, dragging him towards the grave, which might I add took quite a lot of strength. His body resembling a frozen statue didn't exactly make my job any easier either. But, I'll do what I need to in order to get this done. If he needs a moment to collect himself, I'll give him that.
Picking up the shovel, I sigh, knowing this is going to strain my already weak limbs, but having no other option, I get to work piling dirt over his fresh corpses, while he stands to the side, completely detached from reality.
Pile after pile of dirt falls into the hole, covering up his crime, while my arms ache, and sweat begins dripping down my body. To a bystander, throwing dirt into a hole may not seem like much work at all, and I guess it really isn't. But, when you aren't used to using your arms in this type of way, it's an entire workout. It's utterly exhausting.
As I work, I glance at him every so often to make sure he is somewhat okay. Every time I look, he is just standing there, still as a statue, besides his rapidly blinking eyes. I've seen him do this a few times before, when his brain is rapidly attempting to process what is happening.
Ryder is by no means weak, this man has more strength than I could ever dream to have, but sometimes his brain just has trouble processing situations. He always thinks this makes him lesser than others, he thinks it's a weak quality, as if he is damaged. I just think of it like a computer. Sometimes it has too many tabs open, so it reboots.
And that's what his brain does.
I wish he could see himself how I see him.
I know though it is only a matter of time before he snaps back into reality, with a cold demeanor, to assert his dominance. As I said before, he always does that after one of the moments. I think it's more of him proving to himself that he can take control, because control is everything to him.
As if on que, the sound of shoes crunching across the earth can be heard, before I am lightly shoved to the side, as the shovel is being taken from my grasp.
"I got it."
He says with his tone short and clipped, leaving no room for discussion.
