murder // m.c.

seventeen; i need some company

       seventeen; i need some company

"Michael," she says, frantically wrapping her arms around me the second my words leave my mouth. "Mikey, it's okay, it's okay," she coos as she hugs me. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

I look at her and wipe my face, shaking my head. "It's not okay, Brianna."

She frowns and wipes my face. "But you don't have to cry. It's going to be okay. Do you want to talk about it?" She asks. "You don't have to say yes," she says softly. "I understand if it's a lot."

I take a deep breath, nodding and she takes my hand, making me stand up. She makes me sit down on my bed and she sits next to me, grabbing another water.

I look at her curiously. "I don't want to not remember this conversation because I imagine this is going to be really hard for you," she tells me before drinking the entire bottle. "So I'm going to drink lots of water and sober up and probably not sleep because I'm not feeling a hangover in the morning."

I smile at her, "Thank you."

She smiles and continues eating her crackers. "So, just start with whatever. You don't even have to talk about that. We can talk about us if you want or anything really."

I can tell by the sound of her voice that she feels bad. I shake my head. "Don't feel bad for me," I tell her sternly. "I don't want you to feel bad for me. I don't want anybody to feel bad for me, okay? Just please, don't." The last part comes out as me begging, but I don't even care at this point.

She nods. "I won't, I promise."

I sigh heavily. "So, my dad is one of those people that gets hired to kill bad guys. He's like an assassin, I guess. It's usually people who are hurting a lot of people. From what I've been told, which isn't much, it's a lot of white collar criminals who get over and steal shitloads of money and gang leaders."

She nods.

"He usually kills them right there in cold blood, or he injures them enough to stop them and then tips off the police."

She nods again, watching me and I can feel that she's actually listening. "So that's the family business? Killing bad guys?"

"He's not a superhero or a vigilante, he's a killer," I explain to her, to make sure she understands that this isn't a joke.

"I know, I get it."

"My mom thought that after I was born, he would stop and get a real job, but he didn't. So when I was seven, she left, but left me here with him."

"So then you basically grew up without any parents?" She asks. "Michael-"

I quickly shake my head. "No. I spent most of my time with Zayn and his family. His dad works with mine, so when they were working, I was at his house."

"So that's why you're so close?" She asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you just tell me that?"

I look at her. "Tell you what?"

"That you two basically grew up together and he's like family."

"And you would've been okay with that?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, I would've."

"But-"

"Michael," she says, taking my hand. "You didn't have to tell me everything. If you would've just told me you thought he was looking out for you because you've known each other for so long or even that you were scared, I would've understood and we could've talked about it."