18: Killing Kieren

North sped down the illuminated roads of Westwood and I sought that as a cue to rest my head on his back, fluttering my eyes close as the warm night breeze brushed down my cheeks.

I tightened my grip around his waist to avoid my brains splattering on the road. As much as I loved pain, I cherish my life so much that I can die for myself, but, no thank you.

“Zamani,” North coughed, as his back vibrated. The sound reverberated through my chest. “Allow me some air, please.”

“Oof! Sorry,” I apologized and retracted my hands from around his enormous body a little bit.

“All good,” he said and I felt my cheeks turn crimson like an overripe tomato.

Some minutes later, North pulled up in a slum-like area. He parked under a street lamp post that was flickering and it got me nervous. I was not stupid enough to know that he gave me a gun and asked him to follow him in order to jump somebody.

I hopped off the bike, holding North’s arm for balance. He pulled off his helmet and his gaze met mine. I s