A/N: Haven't been super motivated to write lately, but here's a short chapter for my readers. Do you like this story enough for me to keep writing? I know where it's going, and it's gonna be interesting and good, but I don't want to keep writing if only like 3 people actually like it. Well, actually, I'd still write for you guys, even if there aren't very many of you. Thank you so much to everyone who reviews. Without you I wouldn't even be updating.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.

His warm, firm body finally presses mine into the wall, and he opens his eyes. "I win," he says in a low, husky voice. My hands subconsciously land on his bulging biceps again, while he delicately rests both hands on my face, caressing my cheeks with his calloused thumbs. His gaze is flickering between my eyes and my lips. This is it: my first kiss. His eyes close and I follow his lead, our noses touch, his lips are brushing against mine, his hot breath is on my face…

"Get off! Let me go! Please, don't hurt me!" I hear the words come out, and when they do, it brings me back to that moment.

It's dark. I'm staring down the barrel of a gun. A hooded man is holding a knife. Another one tackles me. The wind is knocked out of me and I can't breathe. Can't breathe. I'm on the gravel, punching and kicking. My hands are pinned to the ground. Can't move. Can't breathe.

"Just breathe. Look, I'm not going to hurt you, okay? You almost passed out; I had to hold you up. Focus on your breathing." Jack's voice soothes me and brings me back to reality. In this moment, my brain is empty. I'm anchoring myself in Jack's wide pupils. I follow his breathing. The tightness in my chest lessens. It takes me a while to form a coherent thought.

"I remember more. Someone had a gun aimed at me, and his friend tackled me, and I had the wind knocked out of me. I also remember someone with a knife. At least, it looked like a knife, but it was dark. I don't know what happened after that," I ramble on. Jack backs away from me slowly. He looks more distressed than he did the past two times this happened. He swims to the stairs without speaking.

"Why are you getting out?"

"Go home. We're done hanging out," he says without looking at me as he gets out of the pool.

I swim to the stairs and frown at him. "Jack, what's wrong? What did I do to set you off this time?" Jack doesn't respond. He wraps a towel around his broad shoulders and stares at the ground. "You're not going to explain why you want me to leave all of a sudden?"

"I don't owe you an explanation. We're not friends; we never will be. Go home and stay away from me," Jack orders, tossing me my towel.

"Jack, what did I do? I'm sorry."

"Get the hell out of my house. I'm not going to tell you again. I hate you, and you're extremely irritating. That's my explanation." His eyes are boring through me, his words pierce through me like bullets, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. What did I do that's so irritating? I have to remember what Milton said. I shouldn't pry at him. Right now he's upset, so questioning him won't get me any answers; I'll just provoke him even more. I wrap the towel around myself, grab my dress and my flip-flops, and leave without looking at him or saying anything.

Does he not want to be friends with me because of my PTSD, or whatever it is that makes me freak out on him? The first two times, he seemed surprisingly understanding. He was being supportive this time, too, until I told him what I remembered. What was it that freaked him out? Does he just not want to be friends with someone who carries so much baggage? Or is it the fact that I might be a rape victim, like I'm… damaged goods or something? That possibility—that someone took advantage of me—has been on my mind, weighing me down since the night Jack tutored me.

The rest of the day, I work out on the treadmill in the garage, binge watch Friends, and do self care (girly things like painting my nails, taking a bubble bath, and tweezing my eyebrows). None of that has helped to take my mind off of what happened with Jack. Every time he gets close to me, I freak out. Will I ever be able to be in a relationship, even if it's not with Jack?

It's late now. Or should I say early? It's 3:27 AM. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. That memory just keeps playing in my mind on repeat. This is what I know about what happened so far: someone had their gun aimed at me, probably so I would cooperate when the other guy held me down. It was nighttime, because it was dark and the air was cold. We were outside, in an alley or something. I don't know what happened after the guy tackled me. The second time I had a flashback, when I was at school in the hallway, there was a sound so loud it made my ears ring. Did he fire his gun?

It seems like every time Jack and I are close, I remember something new. I know he told me not to try to remember, but I need to know what happened. If I don't find out, I might not be able to sleep until I die of exhaustion.

A/N: It was a short chapter, but lots of foreshadowing and some (attempted) symbolism. Ya, Jack said he never wants to see her again, but we all know it's not over between them. Trust me, good things are coming soon. But first bad things might happen. I'm giving away too much. Please review, I beg you, reviews are the only thing that make me update.