Bonded

Chapter 9

ENRICO SHUT THE passenger door silently and Mina watched him through the window as he walked around the front of the car, dragging a hand down his sunken face. He reached for the handle and pulled open his door, sliding into the driver's seat, slowly clicking it shut. He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel and stared ahead at the empty road, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," he finally broke the silence, not daring to meet her gaze. He was afraid that if he locked eyes with her, everything around him would come crashing down.

The silence lingered as Mina played with her fingers. She felt a warm liquid trickle onto her lips. Lifting a trembling hand, she swiped away the blood that dripped out of her nose. Who is he apologising to? To her, or to the two dead men?

He turned the key and the engine growled to life. Inhaling a sharp, heavy breath, he put his foot down on the gas.

After an awkward and intimidating car ride, she found herself outside of his grand home, its walls towering over her. The sorrowful moon sat directly above its roof, naked and bare with no sign of clouds. Mina's shallow breath began to quicken and her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. She sat as still as a statue, blinking rapidly.

Enrico twisted around in his chair to face her, dropping his head to look into her eyes. His gaze shifted to the deep, purple bruise on her cheek and suddenly his head ached. "Mina? Are you—"

"—I want to go home." Her voice cracked shamelessly and tears began to well up in her eyes. She wasn't sure what was causing her heart to contract so painfully, but she knew that she couldn't bear another moment in his car, so she reached for the door handle.

Enrico instantly locked the doors and unbuckled his seatbelt, throwing it to the side as he shifted in his seat. "So, what?" His face was twisted in a mixture of pain and horror. "You're going to walk all the way home?"

Mina's gaze was fixed on the handle, her back facing him. She bit away the sob bubbling up in her throat.

"Look at me."

She shook her head, her hair falling against her cheeks, concealing her tears.

"Look at me," he repeated, his voice as soft as the sound of rain which began to beat down against the car.

She swivelled in her chair to face him, yet her eyes couldn't meet his. The extinguished flame in her irises hovered over his lap, focusing painfully on each bruised groove of his knuckles.

"You have every right to hate me, to not want to be near me," he began, to which Mina's head shot up, "and I don't blame you—"

"Hate you?" She spluttered. "How could I ever hate you?"

Enrico looked at her as though her face had suddenly turned every colour of the rainbow. He shook his head violently, pushing back a bitter laugh that formed at the back of his throat. "I just shot two people in front of you," he stated simply, his features expressionless. This time, it was him who wasn't looking at her. "I never wanted this," he mumbled quietly, "to see you crying—because of me."

"No," she reached out a pale, trembling hand, placing it on his lap, "can't you see? I'm not crying because of you. I'm crying for you." Enrico's eyes widened slightly, his brows furrowed. "I was never stupid, I knew there was something about you—something about your family. You'd always be called home and then sent somewhere. Then, you'd disappear and come back to school looking like you'd been beaten to death. Where?" Her gaze burnt through his skin. "Where, Enrico? What are these—these jobs they make you do?"

"They don't make me do it," he shook his head. He continued to glare through the glass, his gaze focused on the uneasy flickering of the street light, waiting for it to die out.

She released her grip on his leg. "So," she licked her dry lips, "you do it out of your own choice?"

He hesitated. "No, not exactly."

"Are you in trouble? Are there people who—who are after you?"

"No, Mina, it's not like that," he sighed. "It's just..." He dropped his head back limply and his eyelids fell shut. "You won't understand. This is my life, what I was born to do."

What he was born to do. Something clicked into place, like a volt in Mina's brain, and her suspicion was finally confirmed: Enrico's family had knowledge of his activities and they were involved in it, too. "You were born to be—a killer?"

His eyes suddenly opened and he straightened his rigid back, the colour draining from his face. "If that's what you think of me," he said, his eyes hard and unmoving.

"I don't," she said quickly, regretting her choice of words with a pang to her chest, "that's the last thing I'd think of you." Enrico looked unconvinced, lines of sorrow etching his caramel skin. "You're not a murderer—those men would have killed you, or me. You're my friend, Enrico. You saved us, and I want to help you."

The laugh that threatened to spill through his teeth finally poured out, his lips contorted in repulse. "Help me? I don't need your help." Mina began to protest, but he beat her to it. "Did you really think that, after all of this, I'd let you near me?"

Mina gasped. "You can't be serious," she retorted, "what, you're just going to up and leave, push me out of your life? For what?" Enrico sighed miserably, his patience wearing thin. "Didn't you hear a single word I said?" She continued, her insides sucking up and drying every tear, anger bubbling up through each and every crevice, "I'm not leaving! You can drop your solo act. You might be right—I don't understand—which is exactly why you need a friend—"

"—a friend," he grunted, "I've had plenty of friends for seventeen years, what makes you so different?"

"It's different," she whispered, her voice softening as she gazed at him through her glassy orbs, "because I care about you."

Silence seemed to surround them once again, the only audible sound was Enrico's heavy breaths. A muscle in his clenched jaw danced, as though he was chewing, as he continued to stare out ahead of him. He reached across and clenched his fists around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. His head dropped forwards limply as he squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling sharply.

"That's exactly what I didn't want," he said quietly, his head still bowed low, his face concealed in the shadows. 

Before Mina could open her mouth, he pushed open his door and jumped out, slamming it shut. Quickly, Mina hopped out of the car, jogging towards him. He continued walking in the direction of his house, a harsh and angry bounce in each step, as Mina followed him, side by side.

They reached the iron gates and Enrico stepped aside, allowing her to enter first. She gulped, shuffling past him, unsure of what was to come next.