Closer: Tyler, The Creator

29. Murder

I had a few minutes left until I was able to close up. I had the late shift tonight. I was glad it was busier than usual since it made time go by faster; not to mention keep me from thinking about the situation.

I closed the register, grabbing my stuff before turning off the lights. I locked the door behind me. I was about to order an uber before noticing Tyler's car parked outside the shop.

I furrowed my eyebrows, tucking my phone into my back pocket. I looked through the shop, the lights were still on in the back. I pulled the handle but the door was locked.

"Fuck,"

I jogged around to the backside of the shop, hoping it was open. It was strange. Usually Tyler's friends would be hanging around if they were still here this late.

I quietly made my way inside, hiding behind the brick wall as I heard shouting.

I peeked a little, praying I didn't get caught.

"You missing that interest cash, nigga."

"I told you we done. Ain't no fucking interests." Tyler had a harsh tone.

"It's coo...I'll just stick around and keep fucking on yo girl till you get me my shit."

I cursed under my breath.

I watched as Tyler turned back to face Rakim. He pinned him against the wall—it vibrated as his back hit hard.

Rakim laughed. It was a joke to him. He saw this shit as a game.

"That's in your fucking dreams. Keep her out your mouth nigga."

"It's funny 'cus I was in that too."

Tyler punched Rakim's side. He chuckled again before Tyler threw him against the concrete ground. He began to reach for something before I stopped him.

"Tyler stop!"

"The fuck are you doing here for?" Tyler and Rocky's eyes fell on me as I walked into the light.

"Mhmm. You back for seconds?" Rakim smiled.

"I swear I'll fucking kill you nigga," Tyler began.

"Why would I make this shit up if it ain't happen? Ask her. Ask yo girl who fucked her better."

Rocky smirked at Tyler.

He was fuming. His hands turned into fists as T looked over at me.

"He's fucking lying. Shit ain't true right? He's fucking with me—,"

I looked down at my shoes, biting the inside of my lip harshly.

"NADINE!"

His shouting startled me.

"I had to! He was going to kill you that night. I-I needed to protect you—,"

Tyler didn't miss a fucking beat.

He pulled out the gun from his trousers and aimed it at Rakim's head.

Rakim put his hands up in defense, he had an arrogant grin plastered on his face.

"Last words." Tyler spoke lowly.

"Tyler please," I felt the tears begin to form in my eyes.

"You shoulda' heard her screaming my name nigga—,"

Tyler pulled the trigger; I screamed as soon as the loud bang echoed through the shop. Blood splattered all over the wall behind him.

Tyler breathed heavy as he set the gun down, wiping blood off of his own neck.

"TYLER YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!" Tears made their way down my face uncontrollably as I saw Rakim's lifeless body on the ground.

Tyler ignored me, pulling out his phone as he typed something in it.

"WHY AREN'T YOU FUCKING SAYING ANYTHING?!" I insisted, but he didn't react.

He set his phone down as he walked over to me. I backed away, my back coming in contact with the brick wall behind me.

His blank glare scared me to death. He looked empty, he didn't react to anything. I could hear his breathing through my silent tears as he got closer.

"I killed him. I killed him just like i've killed every other nigga that's ever crossed a fucking line."

For once, I was terrified of him.

I wiped my face but I couldn't stop crying.

"Get in the fucking car. Now."

I cursed as I opened the exit door harshly and opened his passenger seat.

I looked down at the blood that had stained my shirt.

He just did it. He was calm and collected, he knew exactly how to handle everything.

A few minutes passed before a black SUV parked next to Tyler's car. The windows were completely tinted.
Two men in black suits got out as they began to put on gloves. They pushed the door open and walked in.

Minutes later, Tyler appeared. He had on a different shirt and he had no blood stains visible anymore.

He got into the drivers seat. I was still mortified.

I could only imagine how many others he had killed in cold blood. He had people to cover up for him. Who cleaned it all up and swept it under the rug.

T was quiet; but the tension was obvious. He gripped the steering wheel real tight. He drove us to his place.

I didn't interject or tell him to take me home. I was afraid of saying anything at all.

I followed him inside the house as I watched him get to the top and walk into another guest room.

He used a different room to shower, as did I.

No more words were exchanged.