Two years ago if you were to ask me if I believed in Ghost I would laugh in your face at the idea.
That was before I met Simon “Ghost” Riley.
When I first met the mystery man who called himself Ghost, I couldn’t help but try to find something on him.
Nothing.
There was nothing.
Even his files, they had to have been for show, they were blank.
He had no record, except the initial age he joined.
No birthday.
No family.
No face.
Over time I learned more about him, not through snooping but through trust.
Standing right here, right now I needed his trust more than ever.
I needed 141 more than ever.
“Now, now take a seat, and close your mouth before the flies get in”
Sometimes I wish I could go back to that cell, take the file and burn it.
My mom never died and a mission, she went missing.
Nobody could find the woman either so she was declared dead. It was a closed casket funeral to hide the fact her body was missing, they gave me, a child her dog tagd to carry around to always remember my dead mother.
“Mom?”
My voice sounded distant, far away.
I sounded small, like a child again, like I sounded when she left me.
“correct! It’s me your dear old mommy!” she exclaimed pulling a gun from her waistband and sitting back in her brown leather chair, it squeaked with every small movement.
“this is why you went missing, you left your only child alone to think you were dead?” I asked and she smiled “obviously your not alone, you lead one of the biggest crime syndicates of it’s time, when I read that I was so proud of you, not as proud to see these friends but you can’t pick you child’s friends!” she stood and walked around the desk sitting on top of it in front of me.
“how long? How long have you been sitting here watching me like I’m your prey?” I asked, my voice cracked, it never cracks anymore.
“Your tenth birthday, I inherited this beautiful business!” she cheered and looked at Price
“your Kate’s trainee, look at how you’ve grown! Y/n you used to have the biggest crush on him as a child” she joked and I looked at the gun on the table.
My mind raced for a moment, something telling my to grab the gun and shoot her.
A picture caught my eyes, an interesting picture.
“Sweetie, did you not hear me say inherited? Your grandfather, my dad ran this place, I had to kill my brother but he was a liability anyway” she smiled and grabbed the gun before I could.
“I put you into this world and I can take you out” it’s a commonly used fraise by parents who want to get unruly teens in check, they never mean it.
The moment my mom raised a gun on me, I knew if she ever said it, it was true.
“Were you really going to kill your own mother?”
“are you really going to kill your own daughter?” I snapped back and she brought a sharp hand across my face.
“don’t ever talk back to me again!” she yelled pushing me on to my knees.
As terrible as it is to admit, the feeling of a cold metal barrel wasn’t foreign to me.
I could show a million scars that came from a bullet.
But the feeling of it being pressed to my head, by my own mom while there was faint yelling? That was foreign.
Some was in Russian, some in American, all yelling the same thing.
“Get on the ground”
I was going to be executed in front of my team, my family.
“no need to be violent, just get them out the room!” my mom yelled as she let me stand.
“Now, you have a choice. You either take one of those guns and kill me, or I take my gun and you whole task force is killed, including you.” My mom threatened and I shook my head.
She raised her gun, I raised mine.
It was down to whoever had the balls to pull the trigger first.
Blood is thicker than water.
But trust is what turns water to blood.
If that saying was written, blood would be italic, trust would be bold.
You can drown in a sea of blood or water, so what makes them different?
You have blood and water inside of you.
They both keep you alive.
So what defines these two, if this is all that determines your family than my family isn’t my mom.
I don’t have trust with my mom, therefore the blood has turned to water.
What I least expect was for that water to be turned to blood by a task force.
No, not just a task force.
A group of broken people trying to heal and find their blood.
The people you heal with, they become your blood.
When that shot went off and my blood ran through that door, I knew I had done the right thing.
I hit her in the stomach, she would live but she would be in no position to run a cartel.
What I didn’t recognize was the stinging pain in my stomach, the blood covering my hand, the way my vision started to blur.
Gaz and Alex both noticed the shot before I did, they helped me not fall to the ground as hard.
Price frantically called for medical attention, Gaz found no exit wound.
If it hit on artery was unsure.
Ghost came to apply pressure and for the first time I saw his eyes water.
“I didn’t know Ghosts cried” I smiled, I wanted to laugh but it hurt.
“I didn’t know Reapers could bleed” his eyes wrinkled in a sad smiled, a singular tear falling.
He didn’t have to plead for me to stay away, or to stay with him.
He knew that I wouldn’t go down that easy, I hoped I wouldn’t go down that easy.
“Ghost I need you-”
“Simon, you can call me Simon again”
“Simon, I need you to promise me, if I don’t make it through this helicopter ride, and the transfer to a medic, promise me you do not let Eden go through what I did. Shes the only blood I have, a kid of the cartel, my blood” I coughed up some blood and Simon applied more pressure.
I just had to rest my eyes for a minute.
YOU ARE READING
Trust. Vol. 1&2
Fanfiction!! BOOK 1&2 !! when your mom died you stopped bonding with anyone, when Ghost saves your life on a mission you learned you did indeed make a worthy friend, other than Gaz. sure the whole team had slowly became your friend but something about Ghost...
