Guarding the Broken, Page 4

  “Sure, that’d be great.” His arm slipped around my shoulder. My heart seemed to stop before my body reacted immediately. I ducked under his arm and put both hands on his chest, shoving him as hard as I could. Because I’d caught him off guard, he stumbled back a step and looked at me with wide, horrified eyes. My teeth clenched together as I pulled back my right arm, throwing a punch in the general direction of his face. But he was too fast for me and threw his arm up to block my hit before holding both hands up innocently.

  “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry,” he apologised quickly, shaking his head.

  Tears welled in my eyes as my body shook from the shock of it. Male attention wasn’t something I could deal with anymore. It brought back too many memories that I could barely even cope with.

  “That’s it, you’re gone,” I growled, spinning on my heel, about to march back to my father’s office and demand that he be transferred.

  “Oh shit, come on, no, please? I promise that won’t ever happen again, I just forgot myself, that’s all. Please? I need this job,” he begged, as I marched down the hallway.

  The pleading tone to his voice seemed to strike a chord inside me and I stopped, gritting my teeth, considering. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat and turned to face him. I could see how sorry he was just by his slumped shoulders.

  “You’re an asshole,” I spat venomously. These men had no idea of the power they held over me and how much even just a casual touch could affect me for days afterwards.

  He nodded, holding up his hands innocently.

  “Don’t ever touch me again. You’re already hanging by a thread,” I muttered, shaking my head angrily. I had no idea why I was giving him another chance. Usually I would have strutted into my father’s office and demanded they send him away, but the sorrow in his eyes was evident, so I knew it was just an innocent move that wouldn’t occur again anytime soon.

  He nodded in agreement, so I resumed the tour. As we walked past doors in the hallway, I said the names of the rooms but didn’t give him a chance to look in them. He could find his own way around; I didn’t owe him anything.

  “Kitchen. Dining room. Games room. Lounge. Den. The gym’s down there,” I said, pointing to my favourite part of the whole house.

  “Wait, you have your own gym? Can I see it?” he asked excitedly. I risked a sideways glance at him. He was grinning happily; he obviously liked to exercise, which was actually pretty apparent by his toned physique.

  “Sure, go ahead.” I smiled and waved him into the gym. As soon as he was out of sight, I abandoned my tour and walked up to my room, slamming the door behind me. I threw myself down on the bed, sighing deeply. Eight months I’d been told he was here for. He definitely wouldn’t last more than a month, tops.

  After about half an hour, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I groaned at the interruption, shoving my sketch pad under my pillow. “What do you want?” I called, not in the mood to socialise any more today.

  “Can I come in?” Ashton retorted. I pushed myself up from the bed, chuckling wickedly because he was clearly annoyed with me for running off and leaving him. As I pulled open the door, his annoyed face greeted me. “Yeah, that was funny,” he said sarcastically. I full on laughed and cocked my head to the side, not caring that he was annoyed with me. His frown deepened. “I need to come in and pace your room.”

  My grip on my door handle tightened as I pulled it close to my side, blocking his entry. “What? Go pace in your own room, it’s right next door,” I scoffed, nodding towards the door next to mine.

  “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.”
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  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.

  “Why don’t we just say we’re friends?” I offered.

  He shook his head. “No. The reason they want me as your boyfriend is to keep the guys away from you. Apparently it’s always the guys that get you kicked out,” he countered, chuckling at something.

  “No, actually it’s always my temper that gets me kicked out,” I corrected, smiling weakly as I backed up another step. “Hey, we could say I’m a lesbian,” I bargained, praying he’d agree.

  He chuckled, watching me as I backed up again. “Let’s just stick to the brief. I just need you to know that I’m here to protect you. I would never hurt you, ever.” His eyes locked onto mine as he stepped forwards.

  I held my breath, wondering if he too could hear my heart racing. He stopped in front of me and held out his hand, smiling reassuringly. My eyes dropped to it, and I shook my head. I couldn’t do it. It would bring back memories of him, and I couldn’t think about him.

  “Please, I can’t,” I begged, swallowing the lump that was stuck in my throat.

  “I will never hurt you. I want to protect you,” he whispered.

  Oh come on, Anna, get a grip of yourself! He’s an agent here to protect you, you’re in a house full of people, he’s not going to attack you! Just move your hand and stop being such a damn wimp! My mental chastising had a positive impact on my confidence, so I raised a trembling hand and put it in his. His fingers threaded through mine, and he squeezed gently. I looked at my hand, shocked. It didn’t actually feel too bad, it was quite pleasant actually, warm and soft. Some of my stress evaporated, and I glanced up at his handsome face; a small satisfied smile graced his lips.

  “That’s great, Anna. Maybe if we tried to hold hands for a little a bit every day, then you’d get used to it before we start college next week,” he suggested.

  “You won’t be here next week, Pretty Boy,” I answered confidently.

  He laughed incredulously. “Anna, I don’t quit, I never quit, so you’d better get used to me. I’m going to be around for a while, whether you like it or not,” he replied arrogantly.

  I yanked my hand out of his and folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter! I can take care of myself,” I stated, annoyed again.

  He raised one eyebrow and smiled wickedly. “Really? You can take care of yourself? So if I wanted to throw you down on the bed, I couldn’t do that?”

  Oh God! My heart took off in double time. “Ashton, if you touch me, I’m gonna break your pretty face,” I warned.

  A confident smile crept onto his lips. “You couldn’t land one punch before I pin you to the bed.”

  He took a step forward and I didn’t give him the opportunity to touch me. I shot my hand out to punch him in the stomach, but he knocked my hand away easily before it got anywhere near him. My stomach clenched with fear because that small move showed me that he was faster than me. Panic made my blood go cold, but I wasn’t willing to concede yet. I’d never give up without a fight again. He took another step towards me and I sent a kick towards him as hard as I could. He sidestepped it easily, caught my leg and closed the distance between us so fast that I didn’t have time to react. His free arm wrapped around my waist, and he threw us both onto the bed.

  As he landed on top of me, I felt the scream ripping its way up my throat as the panic took over. He put one hand over my mouth and grabbed my hands with the other, pinning them above my head, his body pressing me into the bed. I screamed and thrashed, trying to throw him off me as I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think of anything other than Carter, but I couldn’t stop myself from returning to those memories again. In my head, I saw his brown eyes sparkling with excitement as he prepared to rape me. I heaved and turned my head to the side in defeat, letting the tears fall as I just stopped struggling. There was no point, he was too strong for me.

  I waited for the pain, but it never came. I opened my eyes slowly and looked up. Ashton was still holding me down on the bed, but somehow he wasn’t heavy, as if he was holding his weight off me.

  “I won’t hurt you, I promise. Trust me,” he whispered as he took his hand off of my mouth. My tears were still falling so he wiped them away gently. “I just wanted to show you that you need me. I want to protect you. You need me, so please don’t keep making this difficult. I won’t leave you like the others,” he said softly.

  I looked up into his deep green eyes, and I could see the sincerity there; they were kind, caring, and gentle eyes. They were the complete opposite of the brown eyes I’d been envisioning a few seconds before. I believed him. Ashton wouldn’t quit after a week, and he wasn’t going to hurt me.

  “Okay, but please get off me,” I begged, my voice trembling as I spoke.

  “I will, but I think this is good for you. You can’t go through life on your own, afraid to let people touch you, afraid to let people in, in case they leave you. What happened to you won’t happen again, I promise,” he said, looking pained.

  I closed my eyes and let the tears fall. The grief, pain and disgust returned in droves. I’d been able to push the pain away for months now, refusing to acknowledge that I was forever broken, just walking around like an emotionless zombie; the only thing I allowed myself to feel was anger.

  “Do you need me to get off, or can you cope for a couple of minutes?” he asked quietly.

  I took in a shaky breath. “Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered, turning my head to the side again.

  “I won’t.” He let go of my hands, but I couldn’t move; it was like my body was frozen in place.

  I still felt sick, but for some reason I trusted him. I didn’t want to, I genuinely didn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. He didn’t move at all, didn’t even shift his weight. I kept my eyes squeezed closed. I knew he was looking at me but I wanted to stay in control, and the only thing that was keeping me in control of myself was counting his heartbeats that I could feel against my chest.

  After a couple of minutes, he pushed himself off me and stood up. “See, you did great. I just need you to trust me,” he congratulated, offering his hand to help me up. I rolled on to my side and pulled my knees up to my chest in the foetal position as my body suddenly racked with sobs. “Oh shit! I’m sorry, Anna! Why didn’t you say? I would’ve gotten off, I swear!” he gasped, sounding horrified, making no moves to come near me again.

  “Just leave, I just want to be on my own,” I begged. I didn’t want him here; he was making everything worse with his stupid, nice guy attitude and cocky, good looks.

  Silence filled the room for a few seconds before he finally agreed. “I’ll just be next door then. I’m really sorry.”

  I didn’t open my eyes until I heard the click of the door. Weakly, I crawled up the bed, pulled the soft pillow over my face, and then screamed until I lost my breath. Thoughts were rushing through my brain too fast for me to comprehend: Why did I not mind him being on top of me? Why did I let him do that to me? And most importantly, why did it upset me when he moved away?

  Guilt. It was eating
me up inside because I’d just enjoyed another man’s touch. I felt so guilty that I wanted to vomit. Oh God, Jack, I’m so sorry! I won’t let that happen again, I promise, I mentally chanted in my head.

  I rolled over and picked up the photo that I had by the side of my bed. Jack’s handsome face greeted me, making me feel even worse for letting Ashton touch me. We were just fifteen when the photo was taken, merely a year before everything turned upside-down. We were at the beach. He was smiling his beautiful smile and had his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I was laughing at something goofy he’d whispered in my ear just as the photo was taken. Everyday I wished I could remember what it was that he’d said. I rubbed my thumb across his face. I missed him so much; it was like a knife in the heart everyday.

  That night I cried myself to sleep – something I hadn’t done for months.

  I woke up screaming. I’d been dreaming about Carter again as usual. My heart was pounding in my ears as I sat up, panting, trying to get my breath back the same as I did every night. I raised my knees up and put my head between them.

  Suddenly my door burst open and the lights flicked on, almost blinding me. I whimpered in surprise but looked up to see Ashton in just his boxer shorts. His eyes were darting around my room. He held a gun in one hand, pointing straight out in front of him; his other arm was across his body, and he had a wicked-looking knife in his hand. His expression was totally focussed and murderously angry. He looked like a mean SWAT agent now, not a pretty boy model.

  He crossed the room in a split second. “Get up and get behind me. Now!” he ordered. I instantly jumped out of the bed, wondering what was going on. Was someone in the house?

  As soon as I was behind him, he started backing up, making me move with him. I almost stumbled and gripped my hands on his hips to steady myself. We backed up until I bumped into the wall behind me, making me whimper. He pressed his back against my chest, shielding me with his body as he continued to scan my room.