2.

                                    

                                          
A week later...
David had stayed at a hotel the night of the attack, the next morning he made one of momma's guards drive him home. But not before stopping by to see me and promising he'll be coming back again real soon to get me. I had mixed feelings about the whole thing. I was angry at him for leaving, yet I had the instinct to care for him because of his injuries. And I felt understanding for wanting to get away from our mother. 
                          
My mother! That was a whole other story. It was difficult to look at her, let alone talk to her. So Jackson had to explain our absence from school-which I haven't been to in the last week. Turns out there was a suspicious van reported outside the school. Momma didn't hesitate. She removed me as a student and hired teachers so I can be homeschooled. 
                          
The only bright side is David, his injuries were small and none-threatening-again, thanks to his friends, David wouldn't have been as lucky, and Jackson not getting in trouble for agreeing to ditch school. 
                          
*Knock Knock Knock*
                          
"Go away!" I groan loudly. The door opens anyway. "What the fuck?!" I sit up in bed and see it's Burkhardt. 
                          
"Your mother wants you downstairs."
                          
I scoff. Now I see why Burkhardt is here and why Jackson isn't. Jackson is kinder with me, more gentle, where on the other hand, Burkhardt is more business. He'll drag me out of bed for sure. But at this point, I don't care. I want my mother to see I have to be forced to see her. 
                          
I let a smirk play my lips as I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the headboard. Burkhardt's face hardens. I challenge his deep scowl for a few moments before he finally makes his way over to me. "Are you serious?" He growls, grabbing my arm. Still smiling, I shrug, and he throws me over his shoulder. 
                          
"Hey!" I bark. I was expecting a bridal pick-up. 
                          
Burkhardt carries me out of my room and downstairs to the main living room. Very carefully, Burkhardt places me on my feet. I brush my hair out of my face then spin around and face my mother. I gasp when I see we're not alone. There must be two dozen guards spread out in a sort of ring around us. I look at them, going from face to face, and I don't recognize anyone. I finally turn to my mother who's settled on the couch, legs crossed, posture confident, face all business. She looks me over. "Sidra, this is Roback."
                          
The guard nearest to the couch and standing only a few feet in front of me closes the distance and holds out his hand. He's young, probably earlier twenty, very handsome. His eyes, the eyes that are giving me a questionable look, are green, and his hair...his light brown hair looks so soft, I just want to run my fingers through it. I fight the urge to. He's tall, somewhere around 6'1 and 6'2, with a tall lean yet muscular build. And very handsome. "Roback," he says. Despite the light puzzled expression, his face is hard, very guard-like. 
                          
And he's very, very handsome. 
                          
I hesitantly shake his hand. I don't bother saying my name because he must likely already knows it. He probably already knows everything about me. 
                          
"He's your new guard," momma says, yanking me out of Roback's glaze. 
                          
"What?!" I yell and turn to her. "What about Jackson?! You said he wasn't in trouble!"
                          
"He's not," she says evenly. "Starting from now on, if I feel it's necessary, you'll have two guards with you. Jackson and Roback." I glance around at the new faces. "New guards. More protection."
                          
All these new guards and I only get one? "I'm going back upstairs." I turn and do a light jog upstairs and to my room. 
                          
Later that night...
I've just started a new season of Courage The Cowardly Dog, a show I've watched a million times, when I hear a knock at my bedroom door. "Coming!" Getting up from my couch, I place my laptop on the large footstool and jog over to my door. I open it and see Paul waiting in the hall. "Paul!" I exclaim excitedly as I snake my arms around his lower torso.