"i am not going to hurt you. okay?" ryker had stated sternly, his heart breaking at how utterly br-ok-en she was, "did someone hurt you?"

she couldn't answer, lips pressed into a thin line as she remembered the painter.

and how the last time someone asked her that, there was maroon paint dripping from bullet holes and they wore black at the funeral.

he hadn't even hesitated with shooting and killing his best friend.