Here I was.
Here I stood in front of a wooden door, a door with a window displaying the inside of my classroom. The students' eyes were trained on the teacher with wavy dark brown hair, an hourglass figure, and blue eyes behind her glasses.
The 38-year-old teacher had her sight on the far end of the class, lingering on the empty spot next to Alice. Mrs. Saint, aka my mom, was not up at the board writing 'Shakespeare' in big letters, tuning out the gnawing thoughts of why her daughter wasn't in class today.
I'm right here mom.
Only the distant chatter in the room made noises to my ears. However, the exaggerated exhaling of air slipping down my nostrils, dominated my hearing.
Deep breath in and deep breath out, I told myself.
The smooth departure of air from my nose served as my relaxer. I placed my hand on the silver handle connected to the door, not taking any action to go further than that. I didn't turn or twist the handle enclosed in my firm, tightening by the second grip.
If I go inside, if I step inside, I'll see him. I can't see him.
Afraid? My dark self laughs at me pathetically.
Be quiet! I hushed the voice away.
I can face him. I can face Ricky after what he did. I have to, I'm a strong girl and can walk in with my head held high.
Can you really? The vile voice within me questions.
I gulped cool fresh air, dropping my vision to my hand. My perfect, unbroken hand. A hand that is the complete opposite of Asher's.
How could I face a cruel gang leader who hurt my brother, not once, but twice now? And it's all my fault. I squeezed the door handle, the events declaring victory as the memories resurfaced to life.
---
Tate yanks me up the last step, revealing an empty hallway with only one door through the hall. A black double-door entrance remained at the prior location to this area, far away and to the opposite end.
"Stop! Let go!" I yelled, twisting and pulling my arm from his grasp.
"If I let go, you'll run away," he bitterly informs me, halting as he roughly tugs my upper arm towards him.
"Please, just let me go!" I begged, breaking from his hold for a moment, that was until he grabbed me again with twice as much strength.
If it wasn't for the trench coat I had on, his nails would have been digging into my skin. I groaned at the newly applied pressure, seeking his eyes to only find hatred frosting over his pupils and conquering every detail of his face. He didn't wear a hint of sympathy on his hard expression.
"If you don't stop struggling, Ima make sure you gonna regret this more than you already are," he growls into my ear, causing me to flinch back at the insolence in his voice.
"Why are you doing this?" I whined, my big eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Me, you, and Alice have a past, we're friends! You dated her for a year and we all had a good time hanging together," I voiced with a pang of hurt.
"Shut up! Ok? Shut up!" He snaps in my face, "Those times meant nothing," he lowered his voice threateningly, his free hand fisting together as I attempted to blink the tears away.
I swallowed tensely, knowing my next few words would strike hot. "Are you trying to hurt everyone that cares for you? First breaking up with Alice and now trying to hand me over to a dangerous individual. You're not like this, Tate, you're not," I affirmed, staring up at him with a look of reluctance.
He can't just be all of a sudden cruel. No way. This isn't the person who was dating Alice.
I assumed he would nod his head and loosen his grip on me, but the opposite occurred. If possible, his hold on me became tighter, an unbearable pain shot from my arm and I knew his nails were leaving a mark. His face morphed into clear, undeniable coldness and despise for my being.
I squealed in pain, the dam in my eyes breaking in half as tears brimmed them.
His voice became rough, "Not like what? Huh! Not like a new gang member for The Imperishables? Not like a cruel and apathetic person? Guess what, you little fucking bitch. People aren't always as they seem! I would know because Alice wasn't. You have no idea what happened between us, you don't even know that it was her who broke up with me!"
Tate took a deep breath in before continuing, "She fucked with me! She's played me," he said, lowering his voice again, "And you want to stand here acting like you don't have the faintest clue why."
He looked at me from top to bottom, raking my body over with disgust. I only squirmed uncomfortably from him, my eyes widened with shock and fear of what he do would next. His impulses were acting on... heartbreak?
"I-I really don't know-"
Before I could finish my sentence, a high-pitched scream met my ears and I turned around, looking down the stairs where the sound was coming from. It was an alert that contained a need for help.
"Someone's in trouble," I whispered, avoiding the brown eyes in front of me as I set my sight to the marble floor, stiffening my movements to make the pain subside.
It didn't help.
"Probably just another dumb girl who came inside the club," he gritted out, with no care or curiosity for the person in trouble.
Then again, I'm also a person who needs help and he doesn't seem so inclined to help me.
"Just check, I won't run away," I promised, looking up at him. "Someone needs help," I reiterated, concern washing over me and flooding away some anxiety.
He didn't bother to respond as he shoved me towards the door at the end of the hall. My returning nerves took a breath of life, shutting my ability to breathe correctly and making my heart thump against my chest vigorously.
I froze up the second the door was in front of my face. Tate raised his fist high and connected it with the double doors, making three taps.
"Come in," a voice that was voided of any emotions answered.
Tate took a fistful of my coat and shoved me into the room as he opened the door, making my feet shuffle forward. My eyes bulged out, taking in the brown wooden desk with paper scattered on top of it. In a black leather chair, sat Ricky. His chair was pushed in, a paper resting in his hand, and in the other one was a glass filled with liquor.
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.
He stood up, making the chair roll back. Everything inside me had a malfunction, the blood stopped coursing through my veins, the air couldn't properly get released through my nose, nor could my heart pump to keep me from dying.
I stopped, and the only thing I could focus on was him and his actions.
He shrugged off his black formal jacket, plopping it down on the chair and proceeding to roll his sleeves to his elbow. He went from business to careless.
He stared straight at me, ambling towards my way, his steps slow and confident. The blood reinforces the power that attaches itself to him. It was just me and him, a small difference from the first time we meant, which was only two weeks and a couple days ago.
If he was willing to beat up my brother for helping a girl not get attack by his gang members, what will he do to a girl that he threatened and is troubled by?
Will he rape me? Noah did mention he was a rapist after all... and speaking about him... where is he?
I glanced at Ricky's hands and created a horrific theory in my mind. Can it be possible that he killed him too?
I brung my eyes to his, noticing he halted about four or five feet away from me. I took a step back to stretch out the distance between us. Tilting my head to the side, I caught a glimpse of the doorknob. It wasn't out of reach, an estimate of ten steps back and I could have my hand wrapped around it.
"You remind me of a girl I use to know, a manipulative, conniving, puta of a girl," he utters in a sharp tone, still no emotion falling to his face.
I looked down and took a step back.
"She at first appeared to be a Smo, in English a saint," he smirked wickedly, noticing the irony of my last name to the word he spoken.
I took two steps back, he took one closer.
"She feigned innocence, acted like she was the nicest girl one could ever meet, but with a tiny scratch to the surface, the lies got exposed and her facade didn't mask the true fucked up nature within her," He harshly told me, clenching his jaw together and making his jawline more precise.
I didn't reply back, not too keen on finding out the purpose of his story. I squirmed under the igniting of fire in his eyes, taking several steps back as he took several forward. Before I knew it, my back hit the doorknob and it seemed he had no clue on my intentions.
"She was sneaky, always thought she was ten steps ahead of me, and she was. So, I promised myself I would never be fooled like that again..." he talks casually, although his expression was morphing into anger.
The middle of his eyebrows created a crease as he frowned down upon me. I slowly slid my free hand behind my back, gripping the knob behind me and turning it. I took a deep breath in when Ricky swiftly stood before me, slamming the door shut with one hand as I was inching it open.
A loud yelp escaped from me, his other hand shot up and cupped my face and cheeks. Heat radiated off from his touch but something cool spread onto my skin. I glanced down to the grip he had on me, realizing it was blood smearing onto my face. Blood that he had on his hands.
"...And never will I," he finished, deadly serious.
I, at this point, was hyperventilating under anxiety. The tears uncontrollably poured out of my eyes, wetting my face as they streamed down, this happening as I choked out sobs.
Some man's blood was all over my face.
Ignoring the distress he was putting over me, he spoke on, "There's two reasons why I'm sharing this story with you, everything I do is for a purpose."
I gripped the phone in my pocket with much more force, shutting my eyes to avoid his.
"I don't care how innocent or nice you seem to be, I'll hurt you, and if necessary, I'll kill you," he hoarsely whispers into my ear, making shivers creep up my spine.
I sniffled as my bottom lip begins to quiver. I didn't know how to get out of this, trying to leave didn't work, fighting won't work, he's no doubt stronger and it'll just enrage him more if I did and there's no telling what he'll do after.
He placed his hands on my waist and before I knew it, he switched our positions. Ricky stood in front of the door with his arms crossed and I stood in front of him.
The moment his hands were off my face, I took the sleeves of my coat and rubbed my cheeks. I frantically wiped the blood off, hoping I got all of it. I looked down at my stained sleeves as more tears dropped from my eyes.
"I'm a man of my word. I keep my end of a bargain, but if you think for a second I'll let you hurt my gang, then you, Noah, and your brother are sadly mistaken," he resumes, as I stared at the blood on me, having extreme trouble looking away.
"I-I don't understand," I say, shaking my head as I still have my eyes set on my sleeves.
"Then let me make it clearer. I don't care if Noah is breaking the end of his deal. I don't care if you and Asher are making an alliance with Noah. But I do care if you think you can try to hurt my gang, because I will turn back on my word and slaughter your entire family," he asserts, placing a finger under my chin and lifting it up so I can see him.
I flinched away, jerking my chin, he was unconcerned with my reaction.
"I don't know anything about a deal," I cried out, tears raining down my contorted with confusion face.
"Don't lie to my face," he grits out, taking a step closer to me.
"I'm not," I shake my head, gulping hard.
I attempted to go backwards but he grabbed my free wrist, his grip was fierce and it took little effort to force me in front of his face. His muscular frame couldn't hide the fact he was strong.
I grunted, shunning my eyes from his as I turned my face.
He didn't care, "I don't trust you and I won't fall for the naive act."
I whipped my head towards him, my blue eyes meeting his, "I'm not lying." I said with conviction, never faltering in keeping eye contact for once.
"Your brother helped the girl I wanted dead go free," he tightened his grip on me, making me bite down hard on my lip.
He ignored my previous statement.
"I can't find the girl anymore, and now I'm pissed," his voice deep and dangerous. "You're going to call your brother and tell him to come to Giuseppe's club," he tells me, yanking my hand, with my phone, out of my pocket.
I gasped in shock, both my wrists captured by his still bloody hands.
"No, this has nothing to do with Asher," I whispered lowly, afraid of the outcome.
His eyes glosses over with intimidation, tormenting me with possible hazards to come. In one quick action, Ricky pulled my phone from me and swooped both my wrists in his one hand.
"You're right. This has nothing to do with Asher and every bit to do with my warning to you," he swipes and taps on my phone effortlessly, crushing my wrists in his grip with no struggle.
"Let go!" I yelled, wiggling from his prison.
"Scream or say anything, he's dead."
I widened my eyes at him, sealing my mouth and feeling a hot tear run down my face.
"Your brother took my opportunity away from me. He stole it. You know what they used to do to people who were thieves in the old days?" He smirked viciously, although his actions were still robotic and cold.
I hyperventilated once more, taking rapid breaths in and out. My face and body boiled hot and my chest felt like someone was sitting on me.
The dialing tone cracked the silence, also my ragged breathing, and Asher's voice came through. Ricky brought my phone to his ear and the faint sound of my brother's voice went to me.
"Annalise? Where are you? I called twice!" He hollered over the line.
He must've heard my unsteady breathing, "Are you ok?"
"Come to Giuseppe's club," Ricky said loud and clear, hanging my phone up right after.
---
I let go of the handle of my classroom, taking a step back from the door and moving to the side. I laid my back against the wall of the empty hallway, hiding from the view of my mother and peers.
I can't face him, not after what he did to Asher.
---
"Where is she?!" Asher burst through the doors, Jose and Timothy hot on his trail.
I was sitting on the carpet, staring blankly at my knees until I heard him.
"I'm here," I say dryly, in need for water as I stared up at him.
He rushed over to my side, bending down, "Are you ok? Did he.." his eyes grew three times bigger as they scanned over me.
His eyes looking slightly grey as they turned stone cold, he shot up to his feet and marched further into the room. I followed him with my sight and noticed he was looking at the bloody hands on Ricky.
"Why is there blood on her fucking face!" Asher's voice boomed, making me jump up to my feet.
"Stop!" I told him, he was getting dangerously close to Ricky.
"Because I made her bleed," Ricky coldly lies, back to his normal, apathetic self.
"He's lying, don't!" I hoarsely shouted, my voice dried.
Asher's fist was ready to meet someone's face. He approached Ricky, stopping not too far away, his back to me.
"You missed a good show. The way Anna's blood dripped from her mouth was entertaining. What was the best you ask? It was when she started to smear the blood all over her face in a fail attempt to get it off, and seeing her eyes widen at her bloody hands... funny as fuck," Ricky falsely detailed, enraging and feeding my brother's anger.
"You fucker!" Asher's force on his clenched fist increased, advancing the strength in the punch heading for his enemy.
He strikes air as Ricky breezily dodges his attack, moving to the side. I let out a breath of relief, knowing Asher's boiling anger will prevent him from using his boxing skills correctly.
"That's all you got? I slap around your sister and you throw me some feeble ass punches? Eres débil, es patético," Ricky provokes him, his face clear of any traces of emotions.
Asher pauses, turning his head in specific places to crack his bones. I didn't waste the chance to intervene. I sprinted to him, grabbing his elbow and tugging him towards me.
"Ash, stop it. He's lying," I truthfully speak, yanking him away from Ricky, who was staring daggers at the both of us.
"Am I?" Ricky questions, "Or is she just that traumatize to announce the truth. Look at her eyes, don't you think they're too watery and her face too red for me to be lying?" He manipulates my brother, making him stop and examine my features once again.
He pulls his elbow from my grip, pushing me away from him.
"Stay over there," he says, the same time he's turning to face Ricky again.
"What? No. No!" I shouted after him, following his steps until I was grabbed back.
"You'll be asking for a death wish if you try to intervene," Timothy's milk chocolate eyes gazed at mine.
"I won't let my brother get hurt," I responded back, reattempting my chance to go stop Asher.
Timothy's hands wrapped around both my upper arm, rooting me in place. I grunted as I failed to set myself free of his hold. I watched helplessly as Asher threw a stern blow towards Ricky's shoulder, merely inches away from doing harm, until his more skilled opponent backed up, successfully missing the impact.
"It's a shame. You don't put up a good fight like you used to," Ricky's stoic face taunting Asher, as he stands with gracious posture.
Used to? I wondered.
If my brother thought with his brain instead of his feelings, he would've been getting some hits... but not with someone who also knew how to block and send punches.
Ricky's pupils expanded, resurrecting a hidden, chilly darkness. A whole new edge ripping out from him, my whole body shaking in fear for Asher.
His tightly held fist soared in Asher's direction, ramming it against his nose and resulting in my brother's head to bobble back.
"Stop!" I screamed, my voice strangled and shaky.
There was no time given for him to react, Ricky's hands snatched the side of his head as he mercilessly shot his right knee up, crashing my brother's face to his knee. Asher lets out a gruff sound, staggering back and diving backwards to the floor.
"Ricky! Please!" I officially addressed him for the first time, desperately pleading with the vile man.
His head snapped towards me, his icy blue eyes mixing with specs of rage. Hardening all his features and making him freeze as he stands above Asher, who is groaning and cupping his nose, the blood seeping from the spaces between his fingers.
"Ella incluso suena como Tamara," he spoke in Spanish to Jose and Timothy.
I knew that name. I heard Noah mention it and so did Asher at one point. That had to be the girl he was hunting for.
He steps over the body in pain, going over behind his desk, bending down to grab an item. Asher at this point is unstably pushing himself up, the sign of wobbliness in his unbalanced steps and the need to hold onto the desk near him for support.
His eyes were unfocused, dazed away as he repeatedly blinked hard. He laid the palms of his hands onto the surface of scattered papers. A short second passed, Ricky popped up with a thick black crowbar, tapping it against his hand.
"You know what I was telling your sister, Saint? I told her you stole my chance. The chance to have the girl who I want dead, in my possession," Ricky voiced in a venomously low way.
My eyes were locked upon the squeezing grip he set on the crowbar, twisting it tightly that the rubbing sound pushed to my ears.
"And you know what they did to thieves in the beloved old days? They cut off the person's hands," Asher lifted a eyebrow, gaining his senses again.
I frantically fought against Timothy's hold on me, the grip that was keeping me in place in front of him as he was behind me.
"But, I already have enough blood on my hands today, this will just have to do," he swung the crowbar high and fast in the air, maintaining his grip.
The endless possibilities of what he could do flew to my head. It poked and probed at my hidden fears of losing a love one, it awoken the feelings I never imagined to feel. I got scared, I'll cry. I got happy, I'll smile. I got sad, I'll pout. But these feelings? I couldn't comprehend these feelings, they were never ones I had to deal with.
"Stop it!" I screeched one last time, my voice filled with cracks.
I twisted my body at an angle, prying the hands off me for an opportunity filled second. My steps smacked the carpeted floor, my hair flew to my face and stuck to my tear-stained cheeks.
I was already too late, the crowbar descended down, the air whipping from the speed, making a hideous noise to me, and the object's target of impact was the left hand of my brother's. A disturbingly loud crack echoed and consumed my hearing, along with a painful yell of agony.
VOTE! COMMENT! SHARE!
Damn! Damn! Damn! What an ending!
Why is Tate so resentful to Annalise?
Who was screaming for help?
Where's Noah? Did he escape?
Who the hell is the girl that Asher helped be free and how does she effect Ricky?
Is Annalise fear of not wanting to face Ricky reasonable?
What will these new feelings do to Annalise?
Poor Asher, never saw it coming.