Guido Mista : Distrust

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WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE HEAVILY SPOILED FOR P5

Would you believe him?

Glancing at you fast asleep in the low light of the apartment bedroom, her bashed in face entered his mind again. She was probably going home to her boyfriend or family, too, meaning it could have been anybody in that car seat. The ordeal was starting to sink in now a little. Mista didn't mind roughing up a stranger or otherwise, but he'd never killed anyone before. The feeling was a little weird, like a pang in his gut that was telling him he'd done something he shouldn't have. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, making him feel lightheaded and high.

Did he just find out he enjoyed killing?

No, that can't have been it. Pacing round his kitchen with a drink of water, his calculated footing on the ground was the same as his finger on the trigger, absolute precision of his bullets hitting the attackers feeling more like normality than the weight of responsibility. He did what he had to, before the police got there because, they would have been too late, wouldn't they?

An innocent woman would have died if he didn't step in. That's what you would tell him, surely?

Mista sighed, checking out his reflection in the bathroom mirror on his way to bed. He was a little scratched up, but nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually padding through to bed, the mattress dipped beneath you, stirring you in and out of sleep. Beside you, the young male felt the warmth of your back calling to him, but didn't want to bloody your pure body with the same hands he just used to blow a man's sins out of his body. Ignoring this unphysical feeling, pulled you closer, pushing hair from your neck so he could slot his face in there instead.
"Hmm, you actually came home tonight," you purred, snuggling further into his chest. The sensation made his stomach churn. What was he supposed to do? He'd dealt with the police after violent altercations before but if he was convicted of murder, he was certain you'd leave him and it would break his heart if you dated someone else, like a rich businessman or something. Swallowing, he squashed his nose against the base of your neck, planting a gentle kiss on your skin. Slowly exhaling through his nostrils, the air tickled your back, making you smile. The way his arms were wrapped so tightly around your waist was a little uncomfortable, but Mista was a total romantic about those things and wanted to tell everyone like a giddy puppy. It hurt him badly to know that you hadn't enquired about his actions. He was simply trying to memorise your body in his arms, since he wouldn't be there tomorrow. The police in this city were pretty much bang on. Well, the ones who didn't take bribes, anyway.
"Goodnight Babe. I love you, and," he whispered quietly, settling in to sleep. "I'm sorry." Assuming he meant he was sorry for disappearing again, you allowed it, stroking his leg to let him know you heard.

Sleep took you deeply, even through a bang on the door. You eventually woke up overhearing a commotion in Italian outside the flat. Leaping up out of bed, you called for your love, hearing nothing back. It was odd for him not to be at the door listening in.
"Babe!!" you repeated, louder this time. Wrapping a dressing gown around your frame, you shuffled through to the living room, the front door wide open.
"Can't you be quiet? My girlfriend is sleeping!"
Stopping in your tracks, your boyfriend was being cuffed by police, swarming your apartment. Apparently there'd been a murder last night, and they'd found Mista's fingerprints on the murder weapon. Pushing you away from him, you fought, begging to see him.
"Madam, please stay inside, we're arresting him for murder."
"What have you done?"
"Oh God..." he muttered, allowing the cops to click the wrist restraints in to place. You could tell by the look in his eyes he'd done it, but there had to be more. There had to be a reason! Mista wouldn't just kill someone! Emptiness consumed your soul, the police leaving you to sink to the floor in an untrusting heap.

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