27: Safe

**Jasmine**

I spent the rest of the day sulking in my room. I did not care for Damon. What Loren had said was out of line and inappropriate. Yes, he was beginning to show some more favourable qualities and I was beginning to tolerate him, but that was it. At least that was what I was convincing myself.
To wipe away the traces of Damon in my mind, I began doing my own little research project on Andrew Walker. Of course, I'd covered the basics, but I had left out his social life which, I had previously assumed to be the least important factor about his life. I was apparently wrong. Andrew was quite popular and had quite the extravagant social life. It seemed that he left not only a string of dead bodies but a long line of CEO's who had lawsuits against them dropped 'mysteriously'. It was becoming apparent that Andrew was not only a murderer, but a hitman as well. If that was not complicated enough, he also seemed to have worked for the beloved Mr Bellgreaves just a few months ago. Maybe it was Mr Bellgreaves who had figured out who I was and ordered a hit on me... but then how did he find out about the rest of us? He did have a lot of money, yes, but even so, we were practically untraceable. Mr Bellgreaves also seemed the type of person to think more with what was between his legs than what was inside his head. Finally, Andrew had made no attempt to kill me− he seemed more interested in getting to me than anything else. It was personal, not part of some kind of ‘tying up of loose ends’. Yes, Mr Bellgreavess did possibly have a vendetta against me, but he'd definitely not leave me alive. I therefore concluded that he was not the person who had thrust Andrew into my life. But it would be beneficial for me to get some information on Andrew from Mr Bellgreaves. Perhaps I'd give him a little visit later on tonight. I was sure he wouldn’t object to seeing a woman like myself.
By late afternoon I had not only complied a well-constructed research report on Andrew, covering lovers, friends, family and anyone involved in his life. He seemed to be one of those people who 'hid in plain sight'. It was pretty clever of him, in fact everything about him had been pretty clever. He was always a step ahead of me and that was what was most troubling.
After putting the report away, I walked to the fridge and stared at its contents. I hadn’t eaten the entire day, but still the thought of food had me wanting to throw up. And that was when the source of my nausea made its way into my mind. Maybe I would go and see Timmy today. No, I *had* to see him today, even if it was just a glance from the window. So, I took another shower, hoping it would get rid of the awful feeling of tiredness from my bones. All it did though, was make my already sore and tender skin, sorer and more tender. It took about ten minutes for me to finally realise that the impact of the water droplets on my skin was doing nothing to soothe me, so I switched it off, dried myself off lightly with a towel and then began rummaging through my drawer. If I had any hopes of finding any comfort in anything, I needed my clothing to be light and soft. So, I decided on something I hadn't worn in ages... or at all. It was a pale blue dress which reached mid-thigh. It was probably the loveliest item out of the casual section of my closet. Once I was happy with my appearance− a zombie in a dress− I took my handbag and headed out. With every single step I could feel the guilt creeping in like bile crawling up the back of my throat. I guess I'd just need to swallow it and push on.
"Hello there, I'm looking for the room Mr Keane is in?"
The nurse, a bright-eyed young woman just a little younger than me, smiled and asked, "Timmy Keane?"
I nodded, bringing my head to a throbbing ache and gently rubbed my fingers against its sides. "He's in room A50, it's in the children's ward just through those doors up ahead," she said this while pointing at a pair of doors ahead of me. I thanked her and proceeded to walk to the door, now almost trembling. I could barely even see straight in this place and occasionally wobbled and stumbled. Finally, after much help from the walls which I clung against, I finally made my way to the door. I made no move further than the edges of its hinges and stared through it into the room. Timmy lay peacefully asleep, covered in hospital sheets. His room smelt heavily of antiseptic and stung at my nose. I chose to be brave, walking in quietly and taking a seat next to him. I was grateful his mother was not here, and I was further grateful that Timmy was asleep. As I took a glance around the room, I couldn't help but notice that it was a private room. It had me wondering how Mrs Keane afforded it, given she earned such a meagre salary and also needed to save to pay for Richard's expenses. Perhaps she had taken out another loan, contrary to my previous financial advice to her. But I could not reprimand her for doing such a thing, Timmy deserved the best healthcare.
After a few more moments of staring at his peaceful self, I decided to get just a little closer to him. So, I stood up and neared him. I gently caressed the skin of his cheek and took his warm hand in mine as I whispered, "I'm so sorry, it was all my fault."
I could feel the tears well up in my eyes as I said this, and my body quaked and shudder. Eventually I thought it best to leave. I was afraid he'd wake up and see me in this pathetic mess I was in and ask questions. I had not the heart to deny any of them. So, I slowly turned around, gave one more over the shoulder glance and exited the room.
I hated myself so much sometimes. Yes, this was the job and yes, people would get hurt, but why did I always end up so emotionally drained when it happened. But this time had been the worst, because now a child had been hurt. A child I saw as my very own sibling.
My thoughts were, however cut short when I bumped into a hard back, and I cussed at myself for not concentrating on where I was going. But I didn't even have to look up to know who this maple syrup; expensive cologne scented man was.
"Hey, you came," he said as he turned to face me. I didn't look up at him at all. Instead, I just looked to the side, completely avoiding eye-contact.
"Jasmine?" he whispered, placing his hands on my shoulders. Immediately I turned towards him in shock at the sudden contact. He looked at my face closely and then stared at his hands which held me.
"You feel ice cold, and you look so pale. Are you alright?"
I gulped and pushed him away to avoid his prodding glances. Not only was he meddling in something which did not concern him, but he was also looking at me in a way which disgusted me. He looked at me as though I were weak and fragile. I’d spent a significant amount of time trying to extinguish any ounce of weakness and fragility left within me, to let it all be ruined by that look on his face.
"Don't fucking touch me!" I hissed clutching at my own body protectively. He was right though; I was freezing cold. Immediately his concerned face turned angry. He grabbed me and pulled me towards him.
"I did plan on bringing you back home alive, so you *will* look after yourself," he seethed. I shook my head at him and stared up, matching his anger.
"Go to hell." With that, I attempted to pull away from him, but he just tightened his grip around me.
"Why are you behaving this way. It's not like you."
I looked away, gulped and then said, "You wouldn't understand. While you spend your life hiding from your emotions, I need to live with mine and the consequences they bring when they consume me. So, I'd appreciate it if you could let me go and we could do what we do best−pretend to hate each other. After all, nothing has happened between the two of us to change anything, right?"
With my last words his grip loosened, and I used it as an opportunity to escape his grasp. He said nothing to me as I walked away from him. This was how it needed to be between the both of us, and he knew it. Timmy was already in hospital because of me, who was to say that Damon wouldn't end up in the exact same position if he got too close. It was no longer a matter of us playing a game anymore. It had developed into something serious, and our pretences were the only thing keeping us both safe.