Hello again. First: Thanks to Forevermore21 for the reviews. And I really forgot to say thank you to all those who have favourite and followed - THANKS! :D

I nearly got 2,000 views in total - that's impressive for me - I'm so happy :D

And this I a 2,000 words long chapter, so you're in for a treat ;)

In the ending I'm changing from 1st person narrator to 3rd person narrator - just so you know ;)

But with no further ado!

Juice got up from the chair and walked over to the bed; where I was sitting. Then he sat down, and out of nowhere he laid his arms around me, just like a comforting hug.

"Shh, don't cry; it'll be all right. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise. We'll protect you, no one is going to harm you." He was talking with a soothing voice, while he caressed my back.

I started to whisper something, but it all came like sobs. "I watched the light leave from my loved one's eyes, while all I could do was sit there and pray, and hold their hand and begging to someone that wouldn't listen, to bring them back. Twice…!"

If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?
I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might
Kryptonite

"Well, well, well isn't that our own little Juicy Boy, gettin' all cozy with the lady in our custody…?" Said a greasy voice. I pulled apart from Juice, and I must admit that a hug and some comforting words was somehow what I needed. But what I saw, when I turned around was a man in his late forties, black curly hair, and he had a striking nose; not one you could miss to see. My eyes skimmed the rest of his body; no visible tattoos, but I was sure that he had some underneath the clothes and the cut. I stood up to look more defending and confident, even though I knew that I hadn't got a chance with this man.
"Oh Juicy Boy I understand why you're gettin' all cozy with her…" He said while checking me out and giving me the elevator look. "If she wasn't in our custody, and having a deal with us, she would make a hell of a crow eater…" I looked at Juice for some kind of help, I felt disgusted, and this man standing before me was at least 20 years older than me. "Tig…!" Was all he said, but that name rang a bell: Tig… Oh yeah, this bastard was the one smashing my head against the counter top; at the mere thought my fists clenched. Since I stood a small distance from the bed's frame, Tig walked to my side to check my backside out. "Mmm… Petite; nice tits and a nice ass, but Juicy you know you ain't gonna get her…" Then he winked at me; the wink had an internal message for Juice that I knew nothing of. A whistle accompanied the wink. "Damn girl you really deserve that body…" All I could see in his blues eyes, was lust; pure lust – filthy bastard. Then he smacked my bottom. I got furious and impulsive, my temper I certainly got from my dad.
"Then I believe you deserve this…" He looked at me, with a confused look, and asked "What…?" He didn't even get two seconds before my fist made contact with his nose, and a small crack was heard, along with Juice saying "Ouch..."
Blood started to run down from Tig's nose, and my knuckles were slightly cracked and bloody, but before I could taste the sweet victory, his hands clenched around my wrists; making my hands turn white, slowly. I yelped in pain, trying to free my hands from his strong grip. "Release me, bastard!" I shouted at him, but it didn't do must, other than him gripping tighter than before. I looked at Juice again, with a pleading look. "Juice, please…" Tig laughed, and said "Already begging, you must be a hell of fun in bed…" Then he brought me closer to him, so close I could smell his cheep cologne and bad beer breath.

When I thought Tig was about to do something vulgar, Juice stepped beside me, trying to get between Tig and me. "Tig, you know Jax needs her alive, and she's no good if she's dead or harmed." Juice said in a convincing voice. Tig looked at me, and the lust that was in his eyes before, was now replaced by anger and rage. It didn't seem like he was releasing my wrists. "Tig! Release her! Jax and Clay will personally kill you, if you kill or harm her! We lose 30,000 dollars!" The mention of huge amount of money seemed to work, because Tig immediately released my wrists.

"Jax wants you out!" Tig said, before he walked out of the room, waiting just outside the door. I looked at Juice, saying 'Thanks' without saying it with sound. Then I whispered "Juice, there's no deo in my bag or perfume, do you have any I could use?" It was a bit embarrassing to ask for a man's deo and perfume; but in the Californian sun it was needed. Out in the sun I would be fried like a BBQ chicken and smell worse than a pigsty in less than 5 minutes. "Sure…" He said. "Tig, give us five." There was no 'Okay', just an insulted groan. For two seconds Juice was gone, and then returned with a perfume in his hand. "Here you go." I took the perfume and escaped to the bathroom once again.

Once I was out in the bedroom again, Juice looked at me and said: "Jax has called to a meeting. And thereafter you're going home. So it's best if you just sit and wait."

"Wait, don't I need to know what you're discussing?" We walked from the bedroom, which apparently was Jax's, into a narrow corridor, with lots of doors. I knew I was in their clubhouse; I knew that because I could hear multiple voices and the stereo banging. "Club meetings ain't for women!" Tig grunted. Tig led the way, like a prison guard, guarding the prisoner; which was me. When we entered a larger room; probably the bar and sitting area, everybody looked at me, it made me feel like I was some rare monkey in zoo. Juice led me to a couch where I could wait 'till the club was done discussing whatever they were to discuss.

As I sat there, I looked around, and what I saw was awfully clad women, and vulgar men; groping every inch of the women; grandpa would call these ladies: Girls of the night, but they were both girls of the night and day. Then my gaze stumbled upon a small boy. Oh dear Lord above, what was an angel doing among devils? He was the cutest boy I had ever laid my eyes on; he had this sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and my guess would be that he was about 3, maybe 4 years old. Could this be the toddler in the photo, in Jax's room? Well, he was running around, near the lady, who was in the other photo from Jax's room; grayish stripe. Then I looked away from the small child; I didn't want to stare.

5 minutes passed by, until I felt a small tug at my trouser leg. I was ripped out of my thoughts of what was to become of me. What I saw was this small child, I had looked at just 5 minutes ago; he was smiling at me, a big goofy smile, almost got all of his teeth out.

"Hi there…" I said, smiling at the boy – didn't want to scare him away.

"Hmm… Hi… Grandma', she didn't want you to… Umm… Put blood spots on the carpet…" Was all he said, before he handed me a semi-wet rag. I looked dumbfounded at him, for what use did I need a wet rag? He seemed to read my face perfectly, because he took my hand in his small one. "You are hurt… Ouch…" I looked down at my hand, to see that the cracked skin leaked blood, and some of it was about to hit the carpet, if it wasn't stopped. Then I felt the wet rag make contact with my knuckles; I smiled genuine. "What a gentleman you are, ha?" The boy looked up at me "Yeah dad taught me that…" He smiled a big and proud smile.

"Who's your daddy?" I asked, smiling sweetly. Even though I already knew the answer, I had to ask, just to confirm my suspicion.

"Well… um… I'm not supposed to talk to strangers…" He was well-mannered, no doubt about it.

I giggled shortly and then said "Well, I'm not supposed to too. But if I tell you my name, than we aren't strangers anymore, right?" I smiled at him. "Umm… Well, suppose not…"

"Goodie, I'm Emily, but if you want to, you can call me Em." I put my hand out for him to shake it. "My name is Abel…" Answered Abel, while was shaking my now less-blooded hand. Then he continued answering the first question, about who his father was. "My dad is the best! He has got a lot of tattoos, and… and blond hair like mine." He then pointed to his head, where his sandy blond hair was. "Who is your daddy…?" What an innocent question, the boy didn't know a thing.

There's a blind man in the witness stand
With three young men's lives in his hands
There's a poor boy who stood at the scene
Who'll be haunted by the dirty things he's seen

"All raise for Judge Miller" A voice said, and the people in court rose, while Miller stepped to his chair. And when he sat, all the people did too.

"We're here this day, to solve the crime committed in Charming, on the date of the 4th of November. The first and only witness to call upon is Mr. Clark. Would Mr. Clark please come to the witness stand?" Judge Miller said.

A companion of Mr. Clark, helped Clark to the witness stand, at the age of 65 years; he had lost his sight and could not see a thing. But even though he couldn't see a thing, his hearing was almost perfect, but could this bring the accused to justice?
Among the people who were in the courthouse that day, there was a poor boy; James O'Neal. He was one of two who stood at the scene, but it was decided that he was too young to be a witness, but O'Neal had been questioned by police officers. Three young men were accused of rape and murder of a girl; she was found in a dark alley cold and bruised. Oh poor James O'Neal, he would be haunted by the dirty things he'd seen.

After hours of questioning back and forth; the three young men were found innocent and they were set free. What the people didn't know was the jury knew the accused and in addition to that they found a blind man's evidence too thin, and testimony that James O'Neal had told the police officers were not good either, because of James O'Neal's young age.

15 years after the trial the three accused men were found dead; the police concluded that they were all intoxicated when they were shot, and that they maybe in an accident could have shot each other. First five years after the murder of the three men, James O'Neal was convicted of murder, and he pleaded guilty; he was the one who pulled the trigger. He gave them retribution for raping and killing the poor girl. Right after the conviction, O'Neal was sent to Stockton prison to serve his sentence; his little girl was to grow up without a father at home, and his wife was to wait for his release. James O'Neal was only 35 years old, when he was sent to prison. His sentence was not lifetime because it took a long time to solve the crime, and because he was merely a child.

I smiled sweetly at Abel. "My daddy Abel was just like yours: the best. He was my superman; saving people when others couldn't."

The lyrics I used this time was:

"Ballad Of Mr. Jones", By Jake Bugg

"Kryptonite", By 3 Doors Down.

I hope you got that Emily's father in that moment was like the Sons, fighting crime - and she somehow just has realised that.

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