Contagious lies

19 | Wet towel

Ezhil Sirju

Marco led me towards a tall building. A few bodyguards that stood outside guarding the place lowered their heads as Marco passed them by. My eyes widened upon noticing other citizens going about their day. In a panicked state I tried to at least wipe his face off with my sleeve. Only for him to shake his head at me.

No one paid attention to his face. No one bothered to question him about why he had bloodstains on his clothes and face.

"Do you need anything Don?" A woman asked him and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Blond locks cascading down her back. A smile crept up her face as her eyes traveled to me. Causing her gray eyes to sparkle even more.

She squealed loudly. "Oops sorry." She apologized. The unknown woman tailed right behind us as we stepped inside the elevator.

"I don't need anything Sophia and..." Marco raised his eyebrows at the woman. "I was told you were in Italy."

"I was and then I came back. Now that everyone moved here it's pretty boring back home." She said softly, a flash of sadness crossed her face but she quickly recovered.

"Well...I leave you two alone. If you need me-"

"Call me." Marco finished her sentence.

"He's a great listener." She whispered in my ear as she stepped off on the second floor.

Silence surrounded the both of us and not the comforting type. Now it was clear what he had done to Samuel. There was no need for me to use any imagination. I put more distance between us causing him to look my way but not say another word.

We arrived at his apartment. Beautifully decorated with a nice view. Marco walked away and I guessed it was to change out of his bloody clothes. Took this opportunity to explore the place. There were three bedrooms with each its own bathroom. The last room down the hall grabbed my attention. Curiously I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open. Revealing a room filled with paintings. Some hung on the wall but most were on the floor. Unsure, I removed a white sheet revealing more paintings. Perhaps he intended to never lay his eyes on it again.

"At least there is one thing you didn't lie about." I whispered to myself as I took in one of the paintings that hid beneath the white sheet. His initials are written in the corner on the right side of the painting.

It was a family or that was my interpretation. A family of five. Three brothers with their mother and father. Only the father was on the floor, swimming in his own pool of blood. While the oldest son held on to a gun. The mother held on to the other two boys. Stopping them from approaching the scene. Goosebumps appeared on my skin as I took in the expression on their faces. Only the mother seemed terrified, whilst the brothers had an emotionless expression.

"You aren't supposed to be in here." His voice startled me. Causing me to stumble backwards right into him. I didn't dare turn around and face him. It felt like he caught me doing something I wasn't allowed to do.

Marco grabbed the painting from my hands. Never letting his gaze travel down to his painting. He put it back where I found it. Made sure to cover it with a white sheet. The fabric was very thin, it didn't take a genius to guess what was underneath it.

I bit my bottom lip as I stared at him. His hair is still damp. Small droplets of water traveling down his exposed chest. I gulped as I averted my gaze. I'm ashamed of where my thoughts were heading. 'He is keeping me against my own will' I reminded myself.

"Was that you?" My voice cracked at the end. Revealing how nervous I actually am.

His dark eyes met mine. For a brief second he glanced at the white sheet. An unreadable expression plastered on his face. "Yes."