Don't Judge Me || Ricky 'Horror' Olson

Chapter 8: I Can't Help The Way I Feel For You

Song for this chapter: For You- Get Scared

Rachel's POV

"If you would like me to go to him you just had to say so," I said formally as I walked past them and shrugged on my jacket. I spoke to them as I would speak to a client because this is business.

"I'm not sure if that would be best right now," Angelo replied.

"I am sure that it will be best so if you'll excuse me I'll be off. Am I expected to make my own way there or are one of you gentlemen going to drive me?"

"I will," Angelo offered. "I'm guessing you don't want me to stay?"

"Much appreciated," I tapped him on shoulder with the palm of my hand as I walked past him and out of the door.

"Are you going to be long?" Angelo asked.

"Not at all," I shook my head. Then I thought about it. "However when I'm done he may be worse off than when I started because there's always a risk so I suggest you find somewhere to stay for the night.. perhaps Christopher can help you out?" I said as I walked down the gravel driveway and towards the sleek, black car. I hopped into the passenger seat and waited for Angelo to get into the drivers seat and take me to Ricky's.

"Why are you talking like you're back on a case?" He asked as he hopped in and almost immediately after started the engine.

"Seatbelt. It's the law," I reminded him. He raised an eyebrow at me, but did as he was told. "Because my dear," I began once he was buckled up, "It is."

He looked confused, but didn't question anything else. The car ride was mostly silent despite the wheels on the road, the occasional sound of the indicator, his incessant, tuneless tapping on the steering wheel and the occasional screech of the tires on the road when he came to a stop light. I have since then deciphered that he does not pay as much attention to his driving and is not as good and careful as Chris is so if I ever have to choose who to go into a car with I know who I'll be choosing.

"You're a tattoo artist," I murmured.

His eyes widened in surprise and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes for just a moment. "Excuse me?"

"Your fingers. They have the small bumps you get when you press to hard on a pen except they are larger meaning it would be some kind of gun or something. The amount of artwork on your body leads me to believe that it is a tattoo gun. You would either be a tattoo artist, an artist or an author and judging by the age technology is it and the fact you have a roommate and go out to work everyday I'd say you're a tattoo artist, you work at a tattoo studio and you're married to your job which is why any social media you may or may not have, as I have not checked, is mostly if not completely pictures of tattoos you have done instead of friends, family, loved ones or self pictures. Am I wrong?"

"H-how did you know that?" He stuttered.

"How do you think? My dear I have won all of my cases because I do some detective work on the side, because I notice the obvious that others are incapable of noticing and I make links others cannot make."

"So you're a psychopath?"

"A highly functioning sociopath is the correct term and the only term I accept however I do not get joy out of what happens here I get joy out of the justice I bring to the metaphorical table."

"So what are you? Some modern day Sherlock Holmes?"

"I suppose you could say so except I am capable of feeling feelings however I do distance myself from people so don't try and get to close, which is what I advised Ricky and look where this got us."

"Should I be worried? Scared? Anything?"

"No dear," I smirked, "It's all in your head. I am simply the lawyer to your best friend, I notice the unnoticed, I link the unlinked and I solve the unsolved meaning this unsolved mystery will soon become a solved newspaper story, just another crossword in my puzzle book I suppose you could say."

"So what? This is all a game to you?" He asked incredulously.

"Believe it or not I do care," I told him as the car pulled up on the driveway. "Besides," I said as I opened the door, "I'm very bored," I smirked as I shut the door behind me and stalked off towards the house.

Messing with people's minds is fun. I don't understand how people don't see how I see, but I'm told my brain works differently. I can't say how and they're not sure themselves, but apparently I'm unique and they could 'use' me on the detective forces however I simply want to bring justice to whoever needs or deserves it and what better way than to be hands on in the case and with the suspected criminals? There isn't one.

I heard the car wait for a moment before it drove off meaning I left him stunned and thinking. Good.

I reached the wooden door and rapped hard on the brass knocker. No one answered. No one moved. I rapped again and noticed the door shake a bit, meaning it is loose. I tried the handle and just my luck it opened.

The door creaked when it opened meaning other than Angelo leaving for and returning from work, the door is not used often. The creak was unnatural meaning that before Ricky was put under house arrest, he used to use it a lot. It also shows the Angelo is not home a lot anyway, probably at a girlfriends house or out with his friends and Ricky must get very lonely, more now than ever before.

I made my way up the stairs as I did the first time and turned into the right room, first time this time. I saw Ricky under the covers, on his dark bed, in the same state as last time except this time he was not moving except for the slow, small, almost unnoticeable rises in his chest.

I sat down on the bed, the opposite side to the door and peered down at his angelic, sleeping face. His eyes closed softly; his eyelashes sat on his cheekbones; no makeup yet still flawless as ever; his thin, charcoal eyebrows arched downwards in the centre and a ghost of a frown playing on his thin lips. There is no way someone like this could have committed a crime as inhumane as the one he has been accused for however he is certainly not happy. I have tried my best not to figure him out as I do everyone else because I have deduced that it is not the best thing to do to a client.

"Ricky," I whispered softly as I shook his small, frail body. His face scrunched up slightly and he groaned, but then he relaxed again and his breathing evened out once more. I ran my fingernails up his arm and they left a trail of goosebumps behind them. He opened his eyes and they filled with sadness the second they saw me. "I'm sorry I made you hurt. It can't be just a one time thing so instead, at least until this all blows over, it is simply a secret. A secret you'll do anything to keep," I whispered. He looked at me, confused yet hopeful and without a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into the bed next to him. I snuggled into him and he kissed my forehead softly.

He's definitely worth the risk.