If you're looking for an adventure in the morally grey, and a crash course of the human condition, this is the story for you! What is good and evil? Where is that line drawn, and who decides that? Packed with humor, danger, feels, and awkward relati...
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Nathan slipped out the small door on the side of the garage and headed in. Touching his lips as he walked down the corridor, he thought about the way Ian's had felt against them. Wondering about whether or not he should have left Ian in the car to cry alone, his thoughts were jerked to a halt as he reached the living room.
On the recliner closest to the living room window, Rick was sitting with his hands on his knees, his eyes shadowed. All of the times he'd interacted with the man, he'd frightened and disgusted him, but the look Rick had now seemed sad more than it seemed dangerous. Nathan took a step in and his good nature got the best of him.
"Are you all right?" Nathan asked.
"Oh, hey kid," Rick said, giving him a light smile as he rubbed his face. "I'm just done, you know?"
Nathan didn't understand. Done with what?
"It doesn't matter what I say or what the truth is. It never has once in my life. I didn't kill anyone. Not those girls before, not that girl now, but no one will ever believe me with the way I am. You can see it, can't you? The lack of a soul in my eyes?" Rick cackled, and Nathan frowned.
While he wanted to back away, Rick seemed desperate for someone to just believe him. The man made it difficult, but here he was alone and just letting it eat at him. What could Nathan say? Nathan wasn't sure if the man had killed them or not, and he wasn't a good enough liar to say he believed him.
"I wish I was born like you," Rick said. "Able to cry for others, to be excited about having friends. If I could feel anything but rage, kid, I sure as fuck would."
Everything faded as Rick's hand moved and brought with it something he'd had tucked next to his thigh. The glint of the light on the black metal of a handgun tore away all of Nathan's flustered feelings and his ability to form new rational thought.
"I don't want to hurt you, kid." Rick's eyes were a faded grey as he tilted his head toward the hallway. "I had my money on the fairy walking in first." Rick moved his gun toward the inside of the living room, motioning for Nathan to move aside, but Nathan's feet were glued to the floor.
The man wanted to hurt Ian? Why? Ian had gone out of his way to feed this guy and be nice to him, even though he'd been a piece of shit the whole time.
"Rick, please," Nathan's voice was a sharp whisper as he took a few steps back from him.
"Kid, you should have never been brought here. Stay out of my way and this will all be over soon." Rick stood with the gun at his side, and Nathan's heart jackhammered in his chest, turning his knees into wet noodles. It took all of his focus just to stay standing. "Where is that fucking faggot?" Rick asked, glancing toward the hallway to the front door. "Well?" Rick's voice hardened and his grip tightened on his gun when Nathan did not immediately answer.
"He–" Nathan choked on air as he tried to answer. If he didn't tell Rick, he might change his mind and shoot him too, but it seemed like a betrayal to say anything. "The garage," was all he managed to say.
