Trust the Killer

Chapter Twenty

     My ears rang from the bang, I couldn't hear anything other than that. My eyes were screwed shut with my hands still on the sides of my head. I stuffed myself into the corner between the shelf and the wall on the bench. My knees were at my chest and I felt a sort of fear I had never felt before.
     Even when I witnessed Wyck shoot the man in the white car, it didn't fill me with the fear I felt now. At that time, I was deeply in shock and partly relieved to be out of my original kidnappers grasp.
     Now, I had no room to be in shock. Days had gone by as I was held captive, enough time for me to fully understand my surroundings. And every moment I began to feel safety, security of any sort... blood spilled over it.
     I felt hands wrap around me, someone's chest against my back.
     "Ava... Ava, listen." Wycks voice began to filter through the ringing. I realized he was pulling me from the corner and into his arms. A part of me thought to push him away, to scream. But I was so scared, after what I just saw I was terrified to make him upset. All I managed to do was cry, only a few tears fell as I kept my eyes closed tightly, I wanted so badly to be in denial. To disassociate from my current reality. Holding my hands over my ears with my eyes shut was the best I could do for myself.
"Please..." Wycks voice came in clear, it was a beg, almost as weak sounding as I felt. I wasn't able to respond if I wanted too, in an odd way I did. It was strange how he sounded made me want to turn around and comfort him. But why would he need comforting after what he had just done so carelessly?
     As his low voice came through I realized there was no longer banging or yelling from the other side of the van door. I shivered as I thought of where I was, I was locked inside of a murder scene, with the murderer.
    I refused to open my eyes, to see a lifeless body on the floor and the liquids of death seeping through his skin. I could already smell the thick sent.
     Wycks hand slipped across my face, it felt wet, then the clothes on my back began to feel damp. I knew that he was covered in blood, smearing it on me as he pulled me in. I felt myself about to throw up.
     Then the van door popped open. I'm not sure how but Julia and Johnny got past the metal lock. I heard their gasp as they saw the scene, the scene I refused to look at.
     After a long pause Julia spoke.
     "Wyck." She stopped for a second, "What did you do?"
     "I'm sorry J. I had to do it..." I heard his mouth respond to Julia's question beside my ear. It made me shiver but I didn't want to pull away, it's an odd thing to find security in the person causing you harm, but it's human nature to look for comfort, regardless of anything. And right now, I needed that comfort.
     "We have to clean this up. Right now." Johnnys voice lacked any sort of emotion. I heard his foot steps rush to a different part of the van, cabinets opening.
     Julia was breathing hard, I decided to open my eyes finally, but avoid where I new Mason would be, I looked forward at Julia who was staring at Mason on the floor.
     She straightened her body and took a deep breath.  I noticed Johnny pulling out buckets and a mop. Between Julia's feet was a white room key card painted red in a seeping stream of blood that was reaching the vans exit. I wondered then if anyone had noticed, but outside the van looked vacant and haunting.
     Julia bent down to pick up the key, she whipped it clean on her pants before turning in my direction and slowly walking to sit on her knees in front of me.
     She looked at me with sympathy, I had only seen her make this expression once before. Her arms reached out and grabbed my elbows, looking past me at Wyck now.
     "Wyck, I'm going to take Ava, she shouldn't be here." Her tone was soft.
     Wycks arms grew tighter around me, suffocating like a snake. "Wait..." his voice was quiet, through the rasp he sounded like a child.
      "Wyck. We were gonna take care of this, I'm going to take her to the motel. She'll be okay, you need to help Johnny." Her voice was like a mother talking her child out of a tantrum. Something about it was soothing.
     She pulled me to my feet, Wyck allowed this without a another word. Julia walked behind me, guiding me out of the van with her hands on my shoulders. I didn't look back, not at the scene, not at Wyck.
I stared at the parking lot while we walked to the motel, Julia moved to be beside me. She had grabbed the black duffle bag I knew belonged to Wyck. I paused staring ahead as she did that.
My mind was in a fog once we reached the motel room door. Julia opened it with the key and gently pushed me inside the one room. She threw the duffle bag on the bed after closing the door. I stood in place watching her stand over the bed and unzip the bag, searching through it she pulled out one of Wycks T-shirts and the small bag of things she had put together for me to borrow.
      "You should probably shower." She tossed the clothes on the bed and zipped the black bag shut. "Put your clothes in the sink, you can wear this." She pointed to the red splattered clothes on my body, then to the pile she made for me on the bed. Julia pulled the duffle bag off the bed letting it drop to the floor and swiftly walked past me out to the motel door, she put her hand on the knob and spoke towards the door, "I think you get it by now, if you try to leave you'll be dead." Her words stabbed daggers in my stomach, she left.
I stood there in silence for quite some time, I'm not really sure how long. It occurred to me again that I was smudged in Masons blood. I rushed to lift the clothes and small bag of toiletries off the bed and into the bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
I turned the water to its hottest temperature and stripped out of the clothes, I paused looking down at them on the floor, my skirt stained red like it was the first night Wyck found me.
I bent over to gather the soiled clothes there and cracked open the bathroom door. The sink was separate from the bathroom like the other motels, I tossed the clothes in and shut the door, locking it.
I stepped inside the shower holding a toothbrush Julia had packed in the small bag and a travel sized tooth paste. I scrubbed my teeth harshly, then cleaned my skin with the motel bar soap while letting the steaming water burn my skin red.
Eventually I found myself sitting on the shower floor, the water raining down on the crown of my head.
I sorted through things in my mind while listening to the water tap the shower floor around me.
It terrified me the first time I watched Wyck kill a man, but in a way I was rescued.
     It felt different now, watching the situation play out. Knowing there was emotion behind Masons murder instead of money, above all the look on Wycks face, the way he screamed and threw Mason to the ground. The fact that he killed a friend. It was brutal, gruesome and horrifying. But it was because of me? The bruise on my cheek was enough to drive Wyck to murdering his friend who he's known far longer than me. The thoughts haunted me. I craved an understanding but I couldn't find one in my mind.
     Finally my thoughts came back to the way Wyck wrapped himself around me, pleaded my name as he gently refused to let me go. Did he regret it?
     Before I realized I reached up to twist the nozzle off. The water stopped and I shivered in the cold air.
     I dried myself with the white towel folded nicely on a rack before pulling on a pair of Julia's underwear and Wycks black t-shirt. I could smell him on it, a rich and slightly sweet odor thad reminded me of sleeping with my face against his chest.
     I dried my hair in the towel and began to brush it out with my fingers. Grooming myself was a weak distraction. I wasn't sure how long it had been, I felt like I was in the shower for at least 40 minutes based on my wrinkled fingertips.
      The door of the motel opened, my face shot up to the locked bathroom door, I heard the motel door shut a moment later and then a squeak of someone sitting on the bed.
My heart rate picked up, I quickly moved to gather the things Julia put together for me and organized them in the small bag. I breathed, wishing again she had given me pants.
I stepped to the bathroom door, trying to keep myself from breathing to heavily. My hand wrapped around the knob and I pushed it open.
Cold air hit me in the face as steam poured out of the bathroom around me. I stepped out slowly.
My head turned to the left as I moved to face the bed. Wyck was sitting there, wearing only his black sweatpants from this morning, his hair was wet and his skin was clean of blood. He had a new pair of pants in his hand, I assume he meant to change into those, he must have showered in Julia's motel room.
I stood ridged, uncomfortable and out of place, Wycks face turned up to me, his eyes were weak. I wasn't sure what to do from here as I looked at the floor, scared of his gaze.
The bed creaked again, I saw him in the corner of my eye slide out of his sweatpants and into the new pair. He placed the pants onto the TV stand, half dangling off before turning in my direction. My breathing shook as he stepped up to me, closer than I appreciated. My side fell into the wall as his chest was a few inches from me.
Wycks hand glided up my arm gently, barely touching until he reached my damaged cheek. I winced as he stroked his thumb across the mark, I had yet to look at myself.
"Are you okay?" His voice startled me.
I didn't respond.
"Listen." He sounded soft, "I shouldn't have done that in front of you."
My face turned up to him in a sudden urge. "You shouldn't have done it at all." I whispered.
Wycks eyes were red is full of worry. "I-"
He began but I continued to speak, "You killed your friend." My tone was strained as I accused him.
"No." The tall boy shook his head as he towered over me, "Mason wasn't my friend. He was a coworker if anything. I only met him a few months ago through Johnny. He's not a good person, Ava." He justified himself.
"Oh what? And you are?" I spoke in edge, shocking myself and Wyck too.
He groaned quietly, "No, I'm not. But I hold myself to a higher standard than he did." I wasn't sure what he meant by that. He noticed that in my expression. "I want you to understand. I need you too." He begged.
I nodded after a pause and allowed him to lead me to sit on the end of the bed.
"You're good. You have parents, friends. You go to school and have a normal life. You're a good person." He began, although I wasn't exactly following yet. "I could never be that, Ava. I finished school, but I didn't have a place in the world, I don't have parents. Not that I've met. I don't have a goal, or a purpose. I got involved with certain people, they became like my family and... you're expected to take care of eachother. I was- I was excited over the feeling of having something, a closeness to a group of people I never got to feel as a kid. But, when I was seventeen I was told I needed to get rid of a dude who was threatening one of my friends, he didn't give me many details and I didn't ask. I knew I had to do it." Wyck swallowed with his eyes intensely searching my reactions to his story. "I shot this person in his car outside of his house. It fucked me up, I didn't sleep for weeks. I fucking hated myself, I killed someone, I took their life away. Who the fuck am I to do that? To decide who gets to live and who gets to die?" He ranted. "Over time I felt less and less bad, especially after the payment, which I wasn't expecting. You know, once you do that type of shit, kill someone for money, it's hard to drop it. Even though I hadn't originally thought that was what I would end up doing with my life, it presented itself as easy money and now I had experience. I was linked up with Johnny, he takes care of the business side of things while Julia and I... well, you know. I avoid Nevada because I'm still affiliated with those same people who showed me this path, and I don't necessarily want to keep down it forever." He slowed. "Anyway, Mason was just thrown in with us. I didn't fuck with him from the beginning, there was never anything human in him. I know it looks like there's no human in me, but once you do what I've done so many times it becomes normal. I still think about it, hate myself for it, but I always tell myself the people I hurt aren't good either. It's pathetic, but I try to consider myself to have empathy. Like with you, Mason didn't care what happened to you. If we kept you, let you go or killed you. He would have raped you if I let him. You see, I wouldn't do that, ever." Wyck paused, I stared at him for what seemed like a minute. His story was jumbled, I could tell by his disorganization of mind that it was a stressful topic. Wyck shook his head finally and looked away. "I don't know what I'm saying. I can only paint myself to be better than him by a fraction." He leaned over to place his face in his hands, propping his elbows on his knees in a defeated posture.
He rubbed his face harshly as I sat in discomfort. "Why did you?" I asked suddenly, Wyck looked at me. "Why did you... kill him?" The word felt strange in my mouth, I never pictured myself having to ask someone sitting next to me that sort of question.
Wyck seemed to think for a moment, "I guess, I just got sick of him. Mason's a cocky asshole, I didn't like how he talked to you. Even separate from how I feel about you it would still bother me." His blue eyes flickered to my cheek. "I couldn't just let him get away with hurting you, physically. You haven't done anything wrong, Ava. You don't deserve this." His voice trailed, I watched as his eyebrows furrowed at his own words.
     I could see the guilt in his eyes, it was unexpected... I couldn't tell if he felt the way he did towards murdering Mason, or if he felt guilty for holding me hostage. I opened my mouth impulsively before I thought, "I won't tell anyone if you let me go." It was odd the way a sort of guilt filled me after I whispered, I half expected a negative reaction from Wyck but he only looked forward.
     His head turned to look at me again after a moment, I swallowed under his intense stare.
     "Do you hate being around me that much?" The question caught me off guard.
     "No." I should really start thinking out my responses like he did. "I..."
     Wycks eyes squinted, shocked and unsure of my  answer. "I don't blame you. It makes complete sense you would view me as a monster."
     He was hard to understand, but something deep inside me did. I felt empathy for the boy, that his life has ultimately brought him into this position. As much as I hated the gore of his actions, the two men I witnessed him murder was for my protection. I tried to talk myself down, murder is never the answer, but the more I thought, the men in the white car would have done just as horrible things to me. As Wyck said, Mason would likely do the same. In a way, their death was earned.
     I couldn't believe myself for the thoughts I was having, the way I was justifying Wycks actions. But, again, this strange part of me understood Wyck, I felt for him somehow and the weak expression on his face. The way he explained he hated himself for the things he'd done.
     "I don't think you're a monster." My voice was small.
     Wyck continued to stare with softened eyes. "You don't want me." He stated.
     My head shook, "I don't know, I don't want what's happening to me. I want to go home." I tried to be honest, I wasn't sure how I felt towards Wyck.
     "I can do that for you, I know you won't tell anyone."
     His words sent a thrill through me, a light. Glimmering safety.
     "But, I won't be going anywhere." It crashed down on my head as he continued, "We can work it all out, I won't hold you hostage. But you are still going to belong to me."