Nothing Left to Lose
Page 11
“Yeah I know, someone showed me after you ditched me,” he muttered sarcastically. “I didn’t mean I wanted to pace in your room though. I need to pace your room out so I know where everything is.”
I frowned, not liking the idea of having someone in my private space. I didn’t usually allow agents in my room, but his stern expression told me that he wasn’t going away until he’d done whatever it was that he wanted. I sighed deeply and shoved open my door, gesturing for him to come in. “You’re freaking weird! No one else has paced my room before.”
As he walked in, his eyes flitted around. My bedroom was plain apart from my sketches that were stuck all over one wall; they were all to do with the same thing – Jack. No one knew that though, everyone just thought they were different things – a pair of blue eyes here, a dandelion there, a football stadium with a player celebrating, a smudge that was the exact shape of his birthmark he had on the edge of his hairline. I had drawn them all last year. I didn’t draw Jack anymore; I tried to, but it just hurt too much. Last year was when I decided to stop feeling anything, and drawing Jack just made the pain come back in droves. The things I drew now I didn’t show anyone, they were too dark. I didn’t put them on my wall; I hid them or destroyed them before anyone saw and demanded that I seek help again. I refused to go back to the hospital.
“These are really great,” Ashton complimented, looking at my wall of sketches.
I sat on my bed and pulled my knees up to my chest. “Thanks,” I mumbled, watching him look at each one individually.
“What’s this one?” he asked, pointing to one of Jack’s birthmark.
I sighed, shrugging. “What does it look like to you? It’s one of those inkblot tests. It’s whatever you think it is.”
He turned back to it, cocking his head to the side, staring at it intently for a few seconds before he spoke. “Huh, well then maybe I’m hungry because this looks like a cheeseburger and fries, heavy on the ketchup.” Not expecting such a witty response, his comment caught me off guard and, uncharacteristically, I burst out laughing. He turned back to me and smiled, seeming almost proud of himself. “So I’d better get pacing, it may take a while.” He smiled at me apologetically.
I sat back against the headboard and watched him walking around my room. Starting at the door, he would pace to the bed, then the door to the closet, the door to the window, bed to the window, bed to the closet. He went on and on for about twenty minutes. I watched him silently the whole time, just resting my chin on my knees. He was very methodical, but I had no idea why he was doing it.
“Okay, I’m done. I just need to ask you a few questions, then I’ll let you get back to hating me or whatever you were doing before I came in,” he said, smiling.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, Pretty Boy, what do you want to know?”
“What side of the bed do you sleep on?”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” My temper was rising again, I could feel it.
He shrugged innocently. “I need to know so that if I have to come in and get you, I’ll know where you’ll be.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake! None of the other guards have done anything like this or asked stupid questions! No one can get in the house. We have security, dumbass,” I spat acidly.
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Just humour me, please. I need all the information so I can keep you safe. I don’t care what other guards have done; I’m here to stay, so at least you’ll only have to go through this once.”
I laughed humourlessly. “You’ll quit, Pretty Boy, trust me, they all do. Everyone leaves me eventually,” I stated confidently.
His cocky smile fell from his face immediately at my words. “Please just answer the questions so I can keep you safe.” He pouted, looking like a lost puppy.
I gulped as I realised that he’d just used the cute puppy dog face on me, Jack used to pull that trick all the time. “Ugh fine, I tend to sleep in the middle of the bed.”
“Okay. Do you have any weapons in your room?” he asked, looking round as if he could see anything. I shook my head in response. He nodded. “Can you shoot a gun?”
I recoiled at the word. I hated guns, I’d seen too many of them in my lifetime already. “No,” I croaked, my mouth suddenly dry.
He pursed his lips before nodding. “I’ll teach you to shoot. Just in case. You can never be too prepared for anything.”
Needing this conversation to be over and for him to leave the only place I considered a sanctuary, I shrugged in agreement. “Are you done now?” I asked, nodding towards the door, signalling for him to leave.
“Er… I just have one more thing, but I don’t want to upset you or anything,” he said quietly. I took a deep breath and waited for him to continue. “I’m supposed to be your boyfriend. For people to believe that lie, I’m going to have to touch you from time to time.”
Instantly, my heart slammed in my chest and a wave of nausea rolled over me. He scooted closer to me on the bed. I flinched at his closeness and jumped up quickly, holding my hands in front of me in protest. “Don’t, just don’t,” I muttered, looking at him pleadingly. My lunch was threatening to come back up.
“I’m not going to touch you. I just… Anna, to pull this off I’m going to have to be able to touch you in public. Maybe just hold your hand,” he suggested, standing too but making no moves to come near me.
I frowned, not liking the idea of having someone in my private space. I didn’t usually allow agents in my room, but his stern expression told me that he wasn’t going away until he’d done whatever it was that he wanted. I sighed deeply and shoved open my door, gesturing for him to come in. “You’re freaking weird! No one else has paced my room before.”
As he walked in, his eyes flitted around. My bedroom was plain apart from my sketches that were stuck all over one wall; they were all to do with the same thing – Jack. No one knew that though, everyone just thought they were different things – a pair of blue eyes here, a dandelion there, a football stadium with a player celebrating, a smudge that was the exact shape of his birthmark he had on the edge of his hairline. I had drawn them all last year. I didn’t draw Jack anymore; I tried to, but it just hurt too much. Last year was when I decided to stop feeling anything, and drawing Jack just made the pain come back in droves. The things I drew now I didn’t show anyone, they were too dark. I didn’t put them on my wall; I hid them or destroyed them before anyone saw and demanded that I seek help again. I refused to go back to the hospital.
“These are really great,” Ashton complimented, looking at my wall of sketches.
I sat on my bed and pulled my knees up to my chest. “Thanks,” I mumbled, watching him look at each one individually.
“What’s this one?” he asked, pointing to one of Jack’s birthmark.
I sighed, shrugging. “What does it look like to you? It’s one of those inkblot tests. It’s whatever you think it is.”
He turned back to it, cocking his head to the side, staring at it intently for a few seconds before he spoke. “Huh, well then maybe I’m hungry because this looks like a cheeseburger and fries, heavy on the ketchup.” Not expecting such a witty response, his comment caught me off guard and, uncharacteristically, I burst out laughing. He turned back to me and smiled, seeming almost proud of himself. “So I’d better get pacing, it may take a while.” He smiled at me apologetically.
I sat back against the headboard and watched him walking around my room. Starting at the door, he would pace to the bed, then the door to the closet, the door to the window, bed to the window, bed to the closet. He went on and on for about twenty minutes. I watched him silently the whole time, just resting my chin on my knees. He was very methodical, but I had no idea why he was doing it.
“Okay, I’m done. I just need to ask you a few questions, then I’ll let you get back to hating me or whatever you were doing before I came in,” he said, smiling.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, Pretty Boy, what do you want to know?”
“What side of the bed do you sleep on?”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” My temper was rising again, I could feel it.
He shrugged innocently. “I need to know so that if I have to come in and get you, I’ll know where you’ll be.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake! None of the other guards have done anything like this or asked stupid questions! No one can get in the house. We have security, dumbass,” I spat acidly.
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Just humour me, please. I need all the information so I can keep you safe. I don’t care what other guards have done; I’m here to stay, so at least you’ll only have to go through this once.”
I laughed humourlessly. “You’ll quit, Pretty Boy, trust me, they all do. Everyone leaves me eventually,” I stated confidently.
His cocky smile fell from his face immediately at my words. “Please just answer the questions so I can keep you safe.” He pouted, looking like a lost puppy.
I gulped as I realised that he’d just used the cute puppy dog face on me, Jack used to pull that trick all the time. “Ugh fine, I tend to sleep in the middle of the bed.”
“Okay. Do you have any weapons in your room?” he asked, looking round as if he could see anything. I shook my head in response. He nodded. “Can you shoot a gun?”
I recoiled at the word. I hated guns, I’d seen too many of them in my lifetime already. “No,” I croaked, my mouth suddenly dry.
He pursed his lips before nodding. “I’ll teach you to shoot. Just in case. You can never be too prepared for anything.”
Needing this conversation to be over and for him to leave the only place I considered a sanctuary, I shrugged in agreement. “Are you done now?” I asked, nodding towards the door, signalling for him to leave.
“Er… I just have one more thing, but I don’t want to upset you or anything,” he said quietly. I took a deep breath and waited for him to continue. “I’m supposed to be your boyfriend. For people to believe that lie, I’m going to have to touch you from time to time.”
Instantly, my heart slammed in my chest and a wave of nausea rolled over me. He scooted closer to me on the bed. I flinched at his closeness and jumped up quickly, holding my hands in front of me in protest. “Don’t, just don’t,” I muttered, looking at him pleadingly. My lunch was threatening to come back up.
“I’m not going to touch you. I just… Anna, to pull this off I’m going to have to be able to touch you in public. Maybe just hold your hand,” he suggested, standing too but making no moves to come near me.
