Trust the Killer

Chapter Fourty Six

      I watched the window for the first few minute of the drive. It felt awkward sitting there without a word, my mind felt shut down, I couldn't think of something to say if I even wanted to speak. The clouds outside darkened, they were thick, puffy and deep gray. I knew it would rain soon and thunder began to roll outside of the car. Wyck didn't speak either. He kept one hand on the wheel while the other held the weight of his head, elbow against the side door. I glanced at him once at a red light when he turned the dial up to a song I didn't recognize, he drove slowly as gentle rain began to drip.
      I jumped when the speakers were taken over by a loud ringing. The dashboard screen lit up with an incoming phone call from Wycks phone, connected by bluetooth. My eyes widened slightly seeing the name 'Julia' on the screen. Wyck stared at the dash momentarily, with a tight jaw he leaned forward to mute the call.
      I looked forward through the glass, blinking. Julia? I was so distracted by the anxieties of being in LA with Wyck I had already begun to forget his select group of friends who weren't particularly supportive of his stay with me.
Curiosity began to drive me, aren't they friends still? "Why didn't you answer?" I suddenly found myself asking quietly. Wyck looked at me once, surprised by my question his eyebrow stood.
"Uh." He stuttered, feeling as though I caught him off guard for the first time ever I looked at him deeper. He shrugged, "I don't want to talk to her."
I looked at my hands in my lap for a moment, "Do you know what she wants, though?" I asked.
Wycks expression twitched in thought, "Yeah, she has questions that I don't have answers to right now. It's fine Ava, don't worry about it. She's not going to bother you."
My eyes lingered on the side of his face for a moment. "I didn't think she was going to bother me." My brows knitted.
"Okay, good."
There was a pause, "Should I be worr-"
"No." He cut me off, "You have enough shit you're panicked about, Julia's nothing so don't think about it." He stated flatly, there was a slight of guilt behind his tone.
"Oh."
Wyck checked my expression, but didn't speak again.
It took me another moment to gather the courage, I felt his comment about my panicking lately meant he was somewhat understanding about the fact that there were stones unturned that buried me in anticipation. It would help if we could address a few. "Wyck? Um. Why did... can I ask you something?"
He glanced at me instead of responding, waiting for me to speak again.
"Why... did you want to tell my dad the wrong name? Because Jason already knows and I don't know if I'll slip up." I trailed off, he spoke quickly.
"I panicked that time." Wyck was sarcastic. He became serious when he noticed the lack of amusement in my expression. "Okay look little one, Jeremy Davis is only as recent as I met Johnny. He takes that shit really seriously, Johnny is his cover I don't even know the kids real name." He waved his hand dismissively as I noticeably struggled to follow is sudden tangent. "I didn't know that I was going to be given a false identity when I started working with Johnny, but he said since my real name has a record I can't use it."
"A record?" I asked concerned.
"Yeah. That's what I'm getting to. The thing is if your parents google Wyck LeRoux some shit will pop up, on the other hand Jeremy is clean. Otherwise, I'd wouldn't have you lie."
I stared at him with parted lips, "What will pop up?" Wyck looked at me nervously and shook his head.
"Well, not fucking murder or anything." His tone raised defensively, "Just some petty stuff from when I was younger. Careless things, spent some time in jail. It happens." He shrugged.
I shook my head overwhelmed but not shocked, I looked forward in exasperation with his lack of concern, "But Jason knows!" I fought.
"Fuck Jason."
"Wyck! Why do you act like it doesn't matter when there's so many lies and they are already unraveled!"
"I told you I panicked! I wasn't even thinking last night I was just fucking mad at you, I shouldn't have gone into that party but it's over now and I'd much rather your fucking parents know me as Jeremy than Wyck."
"So you do care what my parents think?" I attempted to catch him snidely.
"Ava. I care what you think! And you have all these people around you that have all these opinions and it's fucking annoying!" He spoke with his hands, "I just wish you would only listen to me. I'm telling you, it doesn't matter. Just tell Jason that Wyck is a stupid nickname so it won't matter if you slip up, problem solved." He groaned loudly in frustration, "Can we stop going back and fourth already? Just let me take care of things and you'll be fine."
I sank in the seat under me, my eyes glanced down to his leg that jittered nervously. I drifted over his body reading his language, Wyck seemed scattered and irritable. My head tilted as I thought back to the person I first met, less than a month ago. It was shocking to think of how new he was to me, but I was almost as shocking how much he had changed. I recalled his highly organized and meticulous behavior before, how he paid attention to every detail, thought through every word he spoke. He seemed lost now, disorganized and somewhat forgetful. Under his eyes were deep purple and slightly sunken in, he had a noticeably attractive face but he looked worn out as I stared at him now. One thing that didn't seem to change, he didn't sleep much then or now.
"Are you okay?" My words suddenly slipped out before I realized I was speaking out loud.
He glared at me briefly, "Huh?"
"You just seem... off."
The car turned into a parking lot, I recognized the restaurant he chose without telling me, it was a small family owned business.
Once parked far in the back, under a secluded tree, Wyck twisted at his waist and looked at me with slightly squinted eyes. "I'm fine, Ava." He snapped, before falling back into his seat. I watched without a word as he sunk down and covered his forehead with his hand, rubbing it as if he had a headache.
Rain was tapping the glass, a few brown leaves floated delicately and landed in unison with the water from the tree we sat under. I slowly moved to unbuckle my seat belt as I continued my gaze on him, reading his highly stressed demeanor. "Are you sure?" I asked hesitantly.
He groaned letting his hand slip to harshly rub his eyes, "Why are you asking me this?" He grumbled, hand dropping into his lap.
My words were lost in my throat for a moment then, unsure of how to speak with him. I looked ahead and concentrated before answering. "I'm worried about you." I chose to admit.
Wycks head turned quickly to look at me, his eyes dropping in a barely noticeable sort of way. "Why?" He asked genuinely unsure.
"You're kind of a mess." One of my brows raised.
Wyck blew a laugh through his nose, I was relieved that I hadn't insulted him.
"Can I be honest with you?" His voice was dead.
I nodded, listening.
Wyck propped his foot onto his seat, his one leg bending to his chest he seemed to sink into a more relaxed position. The boy next to me sighed once more before speaking, "I... recognize what I'm doing to you." There was a short pause as Wyck began fidgeting with his shoe lace. "I feel so fucking bad." He reached up to rub his face again, "This is fucked, and I've explained it to you before. We've had this talk, I should go but I can't and I won't. But that doesn't mean that I don't feel so fucking guilty. It's eating me alive, I haven't felt like this since... for a long time." He hesitated. "I just wish so much that we could have met some other way, that I wasn't this person. It's such a fucking joke, you make me want to be a normal person, but instead I've become worse just because I can't figure out any other way to keep you with me." He laughed, "There's no smooth transition from hitman to kidnapper and I don't know why I'm kidding myself." He spoke suddenly in a stark voice, "And it's driving me insane." Wyck looked at me then, "I am completely lost, I can't keep up with anything I'm doing, I can't sleep I feel like a piece of shit and the only time I can relax, the only moment I have any sort of peace is when I'm with you. I don't want to think anymore, I don't want to have to cover my tracks and worry about this and that. I just want to be with you. But I can't and it shows, I can't even get a fucking fake name right, there's no way your parents are gonna like me, fuck, you don't even like me."
Wycks elbow propped up again against the door again as he turned sideways in the seat to face me, his eyes watched my expression while he leaned his head against his hand.
I found myself looking directly back into his eyes after listening to each thing he said. There was a heavy level of emotion, almost loss inside of them. I could see the stress that was in him, I could feel his imbalance and I began to feel guilty myself. Maybe if his life was different? If we met differently or anything at all, what would it be like then? Would it matter? Looking at him now it seemed as though no matter the circumstances, the current ones or the what if's, he would be the same to his core. Parts of that core scared me but others comforted and protected me. He wasn't a heartless cold monster like I had thought at times thought, he was just a boy who seemed to care for me. A lot.
I leaned towards him reaching over and pressed the release button from his seatbelt. Wyck pulled it from his body with furrowed brows watching me. I reached again to wrap my hands around one of his arms and pulled him from the door. Hesitantly, Wyck met my body over the center console, he was slow as I pulled his chest to mine and wrapped my arms around his neck. After a moment I felt Wycks large hands against my back, he pulled me in closer. We sat like that for a moment until I felt his tension fade slightly, I then decided to speak.
"I already told you that I like you." I began pulling away, I felt intimidated meeting Wycks eyes only a few inches from his face. I swallowed before continuing my next request. "I'll be with you. You don't have to feel guilty or like you're making me, but on one condition."
Wycks forehead wrinkled, shock in his softly widened eyes, "Anything." His sound was relaxed and tired.
I took a moment, feeling an odd emotion stir up in his willingness. "You can't hurt anyone ever again." He stared at me as I continued, "We can forget everything from before and you can start over. We can make up a story on how me met and even if my parents don't support it I'll still chose you. But you have to stop..."
"Okay." Wyck groaned suddenly. His voice was soft and his eyes weary and tired. "That's fine with me Ava, I would do that for you. But, it's not that simple." He sighed and leaned back, I stayed over the console. "I can't do it anymore, I'm burnt out having to constantly watch my back. The issue is I can't just decide to stop."
       Wyck began to vent again but he was interrupted by that same loud ringing from the dashboard, we both looked to see Julia's contact name.
      "That is why I can't stop." He spoke drained. "They're not gonna make it easy for me."
      I stared at him for a moment as he let the phone ring, I took it upon myself to lean forward and mute the call as it didn't seem he planned to pick up. "Can't you just tell them you don't want to anymore?"
      Wyck laughed, "This isn't quitting sports in middle school. They'll want me dead."
      His words made sent a dread through my body, could he be murdered over this? It was a frustratingly confusing feeling to worry for him so deeply while holding the slightest resentment for him as well. I should be relieved of his death, then I'd be free. But I didn't want him gone, I wanted to be free with him by my side, but we were trapped by his mistakes.
      "Well, Julia will. I doubt Johnny would be that worried about it he'd just prefer to keep me around so he doesn't have to work with someone new." He laughed gently. I had no idea how he could be laughing over the subject of his killing, it hit me then the sort of stress he had to be under.
      "But, doesn't Julia care about you, would she really... hurt you?" I unintentionally leaned closer to him.
      Wyck face turned to look at me, he shrugged. "I really don't know, I care about her just as much as she does me and I wouldn't be worried if she died. That's part of the job after a while, that or jail." His voice was chillingly casual. I watched his eyes shift as he searched my face, "Am I freaking you out?" He asked suddenly. "We don't have to talk about this, I know you're not used to it."
      Again, his awareness of how I am effected surprised me, how he presented himself as detached to would follow up with empathetic behavior. He was right, but I knew he needed someone to talk to, and it seemed that I was the only one he had.
      "Um, it's alright. It's just... scary." I wasn't sure how to elaborate my thoughts.
      He looked forward then, dissatisfied by my words. "I'm not trying to scare you." Wycks tone was suddenly frustrated. He shook his head and breathed in sharply, "Let's just go eat, we can figure out what to tell your parents tonight. I shouldn't dump all this shit on you."
      I nodded while watching Wyck rub his face for the hundredth time, trying to wake himself up. It was a relief to know he didn't want to continue murder for hire and that he would stop for me, I felt as if we could almost relate to each other in the feeling of entrapment. Even though he's the one causing mine.
        I leaned forward then, wrapping my small hand around his arm and pulling it from his face. Wyck looked at me but before he could fully turn his face I placed a kiss against his cheek. I hoped in some way that it would help him relax, Wyck stared at me as I pulled away. He grabbed my wrist before I could float back to my seat and ripped me back towards him. I almost fell onto his lap but I caught myself before losing my balance from his rough tug. My hand crashed into the driver side window as half of my body hovered over him, my chest against his, Wyck grabbed my jaw and kissed me roughly. He leaned forward into the kiss, pushing my back into the steering wheel I attempted to keep up with his aggressive mouth but he took over. My arm slipped off the window onto Wycks leg to hold myself up as he kissed me harder, pulling me further into the driver side. We both jumped when he pushed me unconsciously into the steering wheel again and the car horn blasted for two seconds.
     Wyck pulled away shocked by the noise and I fell into his lap. I tried to push myself up, as my legs were clumsily tangled over the center console.
     "Fuck, sorry." Wyck grumbled with a hoarse voice. I glanced up at him bashfully, giving him a small apologetic smile.
       "We should go inside, you need to eat." He looked away and to the driver side door. I felt it would be odd to climb out of the driver side with him so I awkwardly slipped back into my seat, before following Wyck outside. I glanced through to parking lot quickly, making sure I didn't recognize any cars, it was a popular restaurant in my town. I let out a breath then, thinking of how I didn't need to be as concerned about people seeing me with Wyck as I previously have been. He was a part of my life now, in a public way as well. That was intimidating to think about, another wave of stress shook me as I considered him meeting my family tonight again. I was dreading it.
       My headache cooled with the fresh air outside of the car, I hoped eating something would get rid of the dizzy feeling as well. I didn't need the physical sickness on top of it all, I guess that was my mistake anyway.
      A small crowd of people walked out of the restaurant as Wyck and I approached. I was looking at the ground wincing as Wycks hand gripped my wrist seemingly by instinct. As we passed the crowd I recognized a girl from one of my classes at school, we waved briefly, though Wyck didn't allow any time for her to say hello. He swept me away inside the busy restaurant and to the hostess.
      Wyck was always kind to service workers, I thought liked that about him. But I couldn't tell if it was a true part of his character or just an illusion. It was painfully funny to consider how the hostess would view him as a kind customer who just walked in, if she knew what he really was would she have such a bright smile beaming at him? Would she greet me with pity and fear instead of a kind welcome if I whispered to her the circumstances of Wyck and I's relationship?
      Thoughts like these left me feeling like I was trapped inside an invisible box, I'm looking out while nobody can see in. I'm alone with a collar made of lies tugging my neck with every step I took. It was painfully lonely and the only person I had to confide in was holding my leash.