𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

52. you are like papa.

F I F T Y - T W O
you are like papa.

One day. That's all we have to produce a sufficient answer.

And we get a demonstration that apparently Rafe will appreciate, that's sure to be fun.

The second the door shuts, my anxiety piques. This is somehow worse than when Singh was here. Being stuck in rooms with Rafe has never done me any favours.

Walking over to the window, I hear a car rolling up, looking down at the sleek black car, I instantly recognise the voice of the man being pulled out of the car.

Portis. Jimmy. Porky. The world's worst saviour.

"Get off me, man! I didn't do nothin', man!" He shouts. I want to tell him that if he just cooperates, they probably won't hurt him. Because it's sound advice. Foolproof.

Rafe walks over and stands next to me, looking out the window as well. I assume this is his demonstration.

"Who the hell is that guy?" He asks, staring as the bastard gets walked through the courtyard, shouting about his innocence.

"I know him. It's Jimmy Portis. I saved his life and look where that got me," I mumble, definitely not salty about my position in life. "I'm guessing this is your demonstration."

Singh walks out of the house, looking up at the window where we stand, waiting for this demonstration. Out of the back pocket of his perfectly pressed grey checkered suit, he pulls out a gun.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rafe seems to be realising what deep shit we're in. He's clearly not used to not being the one with the control.

I watch as Singh walks toward Portis, he doesn't think or hesitate, he simply cocks the gun, looks at Jimmy, points the gun at his head and pulls the trigger. No remorse or space for some final words, just boom, and he's gone.

The man I went out of my way to save now lies dead on the patio. I should've just left him to die.

I turn around, not wanting to watch as his brains roll out of his skull. The noise of the gunshot echoes around my head.

"This diary. Hey, no bullshit," Rafe is panicking. I kinda love it. He grabs my shoulders and angles me to face him, his grip isn't aggressive, just panicked. "Don't bullshit me. Okay? Do you have it?" I don't say anything, I just stare at him. He finally needs me. He hasn't got a fucking clue about this diary, he is currently reliant on me for survival. If my survival wasn't also on the line, this would be so fucking good. "Franny." He snaps me out of my daze.

"Nope." I pop the p. "Haven't got the foggiest."

Rafe lets go of me and steps back a few paces. His expression is so full of stress, and his hands wipe over his face. This is a good look for him.

"No, so fun being the one being held hostage, is it?" I can't help but take the low blow. No one's ever accused me of being mature.

Rafe's hands drop from his face, and he looks at me, "Really, that's what you're worried about right now? Franny, he just shot a fucking man–"

"You've shot plenty of men, I don't think you get to judge." I cut him off, at this point I'm just trying to piss him off, he knows he needs me, so he won't do shit to me. Rafe knows I'm petty, and he knows how much I rely on my medication. I'm unmedicated, so I don't have much care for my life. I would kill myself if it meant taking him out with me.

"I had good reason, I was protecting my family." He points to himself.

"I think in the grand scheme of things, you and Singh, you guys aren't all that different." It's the truth, they both are willing to fight tooth and nail, not caring about other people, to get what they want. And what they want is purely greedy.