[A/N]

TigerSuplex: Can you sense him changing?

CandiasnaFeels: I'd prefer the word, 'possessive.'

MelancholicBaby, EnvisionVerse, Waldron82, sexyablonde, LoveNHurt, shirozero, leoxrko (my baby), CoureyCollins-Glass, Lyra has my respect for reviewing the previous chapter. I'm more than happy to know that you are enjoying it.

Song of the Chapter: Wake up-Three Days Grace

(06)

I sighed.

"Stop it," he said. My eye brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"I said, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"How many times have you sighed now? Hundred and one?" John cocked his eye brow, slight irritation clear on his face."It's not healthy."

"Really?" I wondered. Then sighed again just to annoy John. He just shook his head and then continued looking out of the window panel. I've been trying to get him noticed how uncomfortable I was in the room, but he didn't seem to. That, or he was purposefully ignoring me. "Johnnnnyyyy," I whined, stretching out on the bed like a cat. "Let's go out!"

"Do not call me that," he said in a firm voice, his eyes hard and narrowed and running up and down me once. "And no, we can't go out."

"Pleeeease," I pouted, widening my eyes. A spark of hope lit my heart when John pursed his lips and stared at me for a few seconds, but then he looked away, mumbling a 'no'. Huffing, I pulled the sheets over my head, so that no part of my body was visible.

"Randy," I heard him call, but it wasn't me who paid him any attention. "Randy...? Mr. Farrelly?"

"What?!" I shrieked, throwing the sheets off my face.

"Okay, you can go back to sleeping," John chuckled. "Just made sure that you weren't dead."

"I will be, if I stayed locked up in this room for another hour," my bitter tone made him look at me in concern.

"You perfectly know that I can't take you out, Randy. I was ordered not to. I can't disobey my boss," he scratched the back of his head.

"But he's not here;" I whined again, "what he doesn't know wouldn't kill him."

"True," John gave a nod. "But you must understand that I am not the only bodyguard in this house. I'm on the highest place and many would like to kill to be in this spot. What kept me this spot was my loyalty to your husband. And one word from others to him about disobeying, the next second I would be on my way to home…. Or hospital."

"Fine," I gave up, after moments of silence. "Then go get me some clothes."

"You're naked underneath?" A teasing grin spread across John's lips. "Well, well."

"You perve! Stop gawking and get me some clothes," my cheeks were hot from embarrassment.

"Alright, alright," he raised his hands in defense, the grin still on his face. "But just because I'm your bodyguard doesn't mean I'm your slave."

"John!"

"Going!" he shot up from the window sill, storming across the room to where the closet was. I swear, John could be so annoying some times, but he couldn't be, without a tinge of cuteness. "So… what do you want to wear?"

"Boxers and a t-shirt…. A long one," I corrected, when John sent me an incredulous look. "Stop looking at me like that."

"No offense," John closed the closet and sauntered over to the bed. "But you are extremely bitchy today."

"What do you think the reason for it is?" I rolled my eyes, taking the clothes and reaching out to John. "Help me?"

"You can't walk because?" John raised a brow, frowning at me. I pursed my lips, pretending as if I didn't hear what he asked. Holding the sheets around my waist tightly, I put an arm around John's shoulder, leaning against him as I slid out of the bed slowly. Placing the good foot on the floor, I hopped over to the bathroom with John's help. He glanced at me from the corners of his eyes, giving an awkward but concerned glance. "Randy what happened?"

"Nothing," I wasn't sure if I was allowed to say what happened to anyone. I was more than glad when John didn't seem to press the subject. He opened up the bathroom door for me, waiting until I stumbled in.

"You sure you can manage?" he asked, worry lacing his voice. I smiled and patted his cheek.

"Don't you worry, puppy, I'll be fine," I closed the door, a smile twitching at my lips as his laughter reached my ears. Since John was not here, help for me to dress was provided by the sink. I had to hold onto it the whole time and even sit on the rim of it when I had to put on the boxers. It took me a moment to realize that the shirt must be of Stephen's. Because, I sure as hell wasn't this big. Then again, why was I having his clothes in my closet?

John was standing right beside the door when I exited the bathroom. His hand immediately went around my waist, his eyes still on my exposed legs for a few seconds. He whistled, making the goofiest face. "Ever thought of modeling?"

"Ew," I scrunched up my face, a disgusted expression taking over. "It's for girls. I wanted to be a writer."

"You wanted?"

"You think I will be?" I sat down on the bed, giving him a dull face. "It requires time and money. Which I don't have at this time."

"But-"

"It's his money. Not mine," I looked away, averting my gaze on my hands that were folded on my lap. "John…. Help me," I whispered, knowing that John understood what I meant. He sat down on the bed beside me, taking a hold of my chin and turned my face to him.

"I can't," his voice was soft, and so were his sapphire eyes. "You are the one who needs to solve this problem. I see why Mr. Farrelly chose you. And I have faith, faith and hope in you. I know you can do it. I can't help you, but I promise to be there by your side every second of it."

I rested my head on his shoulder, looking at nowhere in particular. Although I believed every one of John's words, I felt empty. He had faith and hope in me, but I didn't have them in myself. A beep was heard, and I pulled away from John to see him holding his index finger at his earpiece, talking to someone on the other side. His arm was still around my waist, holding tightly. Then he looked at me, his fingers brushing over my cheek lightly. I realized I had been crying. "Your things are here."

"My things?"

"Your stuff from your home," John stood up, glancing at the door. "I have to leave you for ten minutes. Promise not to sneak out of your room while I'm gone? You don't want me to get in trouble do you? If you did sneak out, you won't like the consequences," he narrowed his eyes, as if trying to look intimidating. I waved him away.

"What are you going to do? Cuff me to the bed?"

"I see that you like kinky stuff. You must be superb in the bed," he grinned mischievously, laughing at the deep blush on my cheeks. I chucked a pillow at him, but fortunately for him it hit the door, as he managed to slip out just in time. Scoffing, I laid on my back in the bed, my legs dangling off the edge. John was the reason I coped with life here, especially with Stephen. If it wasn't for him, I would have run away days ago. I wondered why I hadn't met John before all this, because he seemed like the person everyone asked for. He knew how to make one happy, unlike some people who only knew to inflict pain upon others.

I crawled up the bed, closing the gap to the nightstand. Opening up the drawer, I took out the ointment and plaster which Stephen had ordered Rosa to put there. It was time to change the bandages. Wincing when the piece of cotton fell out as soon as I unwrapped the bandages, I dumped them in the nearby waste basket. The cut had stopped bleeding, but it still hurt when the skin on my foot stretched. Cleaning it with spirit, I applied the healing ointment and a cotton ball was placed over it so it was easier to bandage. I jumped when my eyes caught John who was standing in the middle of the room, staring at me.

"Oh," he blinked. "Sorry if I scared you. I was just…. Did you take all the glass pieces out of the cut?"

"I guess…. Stephen was the one cleaned it," my cheeks colored at the thought of last night. How his lips felt against mine, how his fingers brushed against my skin, I was all worked up. As much as I didn't want him touching me, there was so little I could do to prevent him from doing it. That didn't mean I was going to give up, surrender, submit to him. "If you knew how it happened why did you question me about it?"

"I was asking what made you break, or drop that glass," he cocked an eyebrow, swatting my hands away and crouching down in front of me, bandaging my leg himself. He finished it quickly, standing up and hurrying over to the door again.

"How do you know it was me who dropped it?" I asked, watching him pick up a bronze painted trunk and place it in the bed.

"Figured you'd be clumsy enough to do such a thing," he gave a teasing smile, taking the seat beside me again. "Or it could be Mr. Farrelly, but he was never a clumsy person in the first place."

"Right," my tone was flat. I curiously waited until John unlocked the trunk, and open the lid. "All my stuff is here?"

"I think so, if you owned this much."

"Is there a problem?" I said in a demanding tone, putting my hands on my hips.

"Nope," his lips created the perfect 'O'. "Not at all. I was wondering… how many friends you have."

"None," I simply said, not caring the surprised look John gave me. "Never even one in my life."

"You're lying," John shook his head in disbelief. I rummaged through my stuff, shrugging.

"I never lie."

My fingers ghosted over a blue box. I picked it up, running touches over the royal blue, smooth, velvet cloth, my heart wrenching at the sight of it. Sadness filled me, remembering my mom's words when she handed this to me. I opened it, taking out the silver chain that had been hooked in it. My eyes landed on the pendant, the Aries star sign staring back at me with glowing red gems as eyes. John's hand cupped mine, gliding it over to him and examining. "It matches your wedding ring."

Scoffing, I snatched my hand away from him. "Don't compare this necklace to that shit."

"I wasn't," he sighed and stood up, going behind me. Taking it from my hand he clasped it around my neck, his finger pads touching the skin on the back of my neck sending tingles through my spine. "There."

"Thank yo-"

Suddenly, the door burst opened. My head snapped to the direction, my blood turning cold at the sight.

"Sir," I heard John say, stepping away from me.

"Out," Brock barked out, gesturing towards the door looking at John. I was tempted to grab John's hand and stop him, but I knew even if I did, John was nothing against Brock. My heart started to race in a fast speed, my chest rising and falling heavily as John exited the room with a final worried glance at me. The same feelings as last night washed over me, my guts twisting, and nausea rolling through my stomach. I was suddenly aware that I was almost half naked. Pulling the sheets over me, I hid my legs, which didn't go unnoticed by Brock, who was stepping towards the bed.

I pursed my lips to force back another whimper, hating that Brock had that intimidating effect on me. he rounded the bed, his hand on the bed post and stared at me for a moment, before going over to the window and sitting down on the sill, just like John had been some time ago. I lifted my legs and folded them underneath me, carefully so I did not crush my injured foot. Then I fixed my eyes on my hands. Anxiety was rolling through me, mixed with slight fear. What was this man doing here?

And he wasn't doing anything being here also, but not that I want him to. He just sat there, staring at me with his piercing, cold icy eyes. I gulped the tension increasing as the silence was kept. From the corner of my eyes I glanced at him, noticing that he was still looking at me. If it was Stephen, I would've sarcastically remarked and have stormed out of the room. But one, I could not walk straight and two, this was not Stephen. This was Brock, gazing at me as if I was an alien. As minutes passed, the fear I had on him passed, and frustration crawled through me. Was he going to sit there all day and get me in trouble? Scoffing to myself, I pulled the trunk towards me, completely ignoring the fact that there was someone else in the room with me.

Tossing the few clothes I owned to the side of the bed, I looked at the things that were placed in the bottom of the wooden box. A small photo collector caught my eyes, and I reached out and took it in my hand. I remembered how Mom used to take pictures on special occasions, and stick them to the book and decorate the pages with colorful star shaped stickers. A sigh left my lips. I opened the page, the first picture being Mom holding me the day I was born. I could now see the tired and worn out look on her face, which I had failed to see a few years ago. The next picture was of me celebrating my three year birthday, well; actually the picture was of me smearing icing all over Dad's face.

The next pictures were of me at the first day of school, my eyes red and puffy from crying, and the day I had became the first place in a swimming competition, and a picture of the day I had to get braces for my teeth. The only missing picture was of the graduation, which must still be at my school. As soon as I could walk, I would have to visit my school. That photograph was to be the most precious thing that I would own for the rest of my life. I blinked away the tears before they fell off my eyes, I didn't want to look like a cry baby in front of Brock.

Brock…

I had almost forgotten that he was still in the room with me. I looked up, to see him still at the window. His face was a mask of emptiness. There was something hidden behind those eyes, something that I doubt I will ever reach for. Gathering up courage, I inhaled deeply. "Why are you here?" I attempted my voice to sound soft and gentle, but even I could hear the hint of dread tainting the words.

He simply cocked his head to the side. My heart skipped a beat at his action, though it was not something to be afraid of. "If Stephen co-"

He scoffed, his face twisting in storage emotion. "I don't care about him."

The low, but high pitched voice echoed through the room. The dread in me worsened. "You'll get me in trouble."

"How so?" he wondered, a smirk playing at his lips. I resisted the urge to slap him. Who did he think he was? Well, one thing was clear; there was no way that I would be able to stay away from Brock. If I didn't go out, he would force his way in. just. Like. Stephen. A deep scowl settled on my face.

"I don't want a repeat of last night, Brock."

"Nobody wants a repeat of what happened," his voice became somewhat soft, eyes casting downwards for a second before rising up and locking with mine. I averted my gaze, unable to look at him. There was it again. Hints of something horrid that has happened in the past. Every passing minute my curiosity increased and there was this part in my mind that told me this same curiosity will get me in trouble. I snapped my eyes to Brock, when his heavy footfalls were heard. He came near the bed, inching closer to me. I slid up the bed as much as I can, until my back hit the headrest.

My heart was beating so loud, that I was sure even Brock could hear it. My breaths came out ragged, as I opened my mouth to warn him to stop coming any closer. Just as I parted my lips, his hand shot up and grabbed my jaws. I whimpered, trying to push his hand away. His grip was causing my teeth to grind in a painful way, and jolts of pain shot up through my jaws.

"And I wonder, if you are going to end up just like him."

His grip on me disappeared, and I breathed heavily as he parted away from me. He walked backwards, keeping his eyes on me and then opened the door, slipping through it to the hallway. Sinking into the bed, I pulled the photo collector against my chest, curling my fingers around it tightly. My poor heart was still hammering in my chest, and my body was slightly trembling. My mind was on frenzy. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine happy things to wash away the horrible feeling I got when Brock touched me. What he said echoed through my mind, word by word. I was dying to ask who this person was, but I was afraid. I was afraid of what Stephen would do to me if I did. Last night, he almost lost control.

And the next time, I might be the reason for him to lose control.