Annalise

Chapter 17: Let Me Go

I did a double take on the white paper, narrowing in on the stains of bloody red fingerprints. My heart plunged into my stomach and, if possible, my face most likely shifted to ghostly white.

"This place is horrendous," Ricky says with a straight face, grabbing another paper and not looking up, "There's no organization, documents are everywhere, no file cabinet. I believe I actually did Noah a favor by killing, what was his name? Luca," he finished, his brows furrowing as his blue eyes skimmed over a piece of paper.

His words were indifferent to the fact of murdering an individual, he spoke as if taking someone's life didn't bother him, didn't make his skin crawl like it was doing to me, or make him feel as if what he ate for lunch was trying to fight its way up. I placed my hand over my mouth and swallowed the bile attempting to come out.

"Annalise Saint, sir," Tate announced to him, the hatred vanishing in his voice and leaving a neutral, hard tone.

Ricky's eyes immediately stopped skimming over words unknown to me, he narrowed his eyes and gently placed the bloody stained paper down in front of him. He lifted his head and placed his scrutinizing sight at the both of us, bringing the glass cup he had in his other hand to his lips.

In one short gulp, he downed the liquor, never taking his dark blue orbs off me. As this moment was unraveling, all I could do was examine the bloody smudges dirtying the clear cup. It couldn't be Luca's guy blood, he was killed during the confrontation with Noah and Ricky... so, whose blood was it?

Or maybe he moved Luca's body to get rid of it... and that's why he's bloody.

"Tate Jerkins," Ricky stated, curtly nodding at him.

He nodded back, awaiting his next words, "I didn't expect you to be the one who took up the task. I was expecting Jose or Timothy, but nonetheless, good job," Ricky plainly told him, folding his bloody hands.

"Thank you," Tate said firmly, his expression giving away nothing of his true feelings.

"You can go," Ricky dismissed him, looking over at the door before staring back at him.

Tate left with no hesitation and didn't even glimpse my way as the door clicked shut from his departure. I stared at the exit in false hope of him coming back, but deep down, I knew he wasn't returning.

My hands started to shake vehemently while my eyes roamed the room before me. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, feeling something hard, realizing it was my phone, I wrapped my hand around it tightly.

As I concluded that it would be best to avoid any eye contact, I rested my sight on the grey carpeted floor. My eyes almost shot out of their sockets as I observed the pool of blood next to the desk.

It was that moment when the tsunami of tears blurred my vision, one slowly streamed down my face and I didn't bother to wipe it away. I wasn't going to pretend that everything going on was ok, because it wasn't.

I pried my sight away from the red, landing my view on Ricky. He was tugging off his black tie, sliding it off his neck, and carelessly letting it fall to the floor, next he undid two buttons from his collar white shirt, letting his chest breathe. It didn't perturb him when his fingers left bloody stains on his shirt, but it did bother me.