"You're awake." He states the obvious. I just stare at him for a second before composing myself. How do I go at this? With all the things he's just said and all the new information I've just learned, I'm not sure how I feel right now. I don't hate him. I know that for a fact. I guess I should just play it cool like I didn't hear a thing until I'm ready to confront it. Waiting never killed anybody.

Honesty has.

"Were you saying something, Parker?" My voice is shaking and I can't get it to stop. "I thought I heard your voice." This makes him smile and I hold back mine like nothing between us has changed. Pretending is hard when it comes to stuff like that. Parker just took my square world and turned it into a sphere. He took my boring two-dimensional square life and turned it into a three-dimensional never ending circle. I don't quite know how to deal without the corners and sharp edges.

"I was just speaking to Roger." He explains and he knows I'll believe the lie. But, the thing is, I know the truth. I wonder how many times he's lied to me before and I fell for it like I'm supposed to now. I furrow my eyebrows by mistake. "Oh, you must not know Roger. He lives in the asylum like you used to. He has the power to heal and has come in quite handy for the past few years. I was just acknowledging how much his power has grown because he was able to heal you back to normal."

For the first time since I've been awake, I dare a glance down at my shoulder and stifle a gasp. There's nothing wrong with it. I check the other one to make sure I'm not mistaken and sure enough, that one is perfectly fine. That's incredible. I wish I had healing powers instead of electricity. I could be helpful to the world, I could make a difference. Instead I'm stuck blowing stuff up and making the lights flicker.

"This is incredible." I say breathlessly and he stares at me way longer than necessary making me feel nervous.

"I agree." He decides and I swallow hard before glancing down again. I'm wearing different clothing. I am no longer in my pajamas but in a large t-shirt. The t-shirt isn't giant but on my boney frame it hangs limp and stretches at most down to just under my butt. Once I take in the fact that I'm wearing clothes that don't belong to me, that I didn't change into, I stare up at Parker with wide eyes. If I find out he changed me, I will die. I will die right here, right now.

"Please tell me you didn't–"

"I assigned two of the female guards from the asylum to change you, love. Sadly, it was not me." He explains and I reach over to mock punch him but he catches my hand, turns it over, and stares at my palm. "You scared me for a few minutes there, love." His voice is deep and rough with emotion. I wonder how much the whole Miles thing hurt him too.

He traces the lines of my palm with his thumb.

What is he doing? Is he trying to kill me because I fear the extent of his apparent love will be my undoing. Mitch and my father are all I have ever known to show kindness. Even Ty and Josh cannot show me the friendship my family once did.

Parker claimed he loves me but....does he even know me? The real me? Does he know. When Miles kidnapped me, I wanted to kill him. But I couldn't because even though those people are right about me, I want to prove them wrong. I want to prove I am not the malevolent creature everyone pins me to be.

"I found you collapsed in the middle of the hallway and you weren't moving." His voice is barely above a whisper and I can tell he's still very upset about the whole thing. "Honestly, love, I thought you were gone. I thought that finally you were relieved of all your suffering but then I noticed your body was shaking ever so slightly. I picked you up and brought you here before calling for two female guards and Roger. You were out for a little while until now. This was all after I took care of Miles, of course, but I still feel so wrathful." Only Parker would use a word like wrathful. Any normal person would say mad or angry but...nope, not Parker.

"Took care of Miles?" I repeat aloud and Parker's eyes darken. He won't meet mine. "Parker, what did you do?" My voice goes up a little when I ask the question. I sound a little desperate actually. His eyes meet mine after I decide to reach up and move his chin down, forcing his eyes to mine. I can feel my eyes are soft and gentle on his, and I can see his are dark and angry on mine. Of course he isn't mad at me but he can't help it, he's livid. No, he's wrathful.

"Parker. What. Did. You. Do." I say very flat and placid. If he killed someone because of me I don't know what I'll do.

"I took care of it, love. Nothing he didn't deserve." He promises convincingly but I shake my head, refusing to let him off the hook that easy. "You need to rest. May we talk about this tomorrow? Please?"

"No." I snap, amused that he tried to divert the topic. "You have to tell me what you did to Miles. End of conversation." He stares at me without relenting.

"Please?" I whisper and he gives an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine. I'll show you." He growls and I smile triumphant. I toss the covers off of me and reveal my bare legs. Yes, I'm wearing underwear, a bra, and that overly large t-shirt but that's it. The blush comes before I can stop it and I crawl out of the bed quickly and stand. The t-shirt does in fact go just a little bit past my butt. Parker grabs a hold of my hand before swinging open the door and leading me out of the room.

Parkers hand is holding mine again.

His grasp isn't hard, but it's certainly not soft either. The feel of his hands is the same, not soft but not rough. Well, they're calloused from holding guns and punching too many things, but they're firm when they hold mine.

His touch does crazy things to me. There are silly thoughts running marathons inside of my head, jumping hurdles, and passing the baton. These thoughts are sliding down my throat, bouncing on my tongue like it's a trampoline, ramming up against the inside of my lips like they're the side of a bounce-house. These foolish thoughts are swimming amongst my ribs and breaking the brick walls of my heart, entering without permission and claiming territory that isn't theirs to claim. They're destroying what little composure is left within me.

Of course I say none of that to Parker.

"Where are we going?" I question, trying to clear these irrational thoughts racing around my mind.

"To see what I did to Private Jenkins." He states and I nod my head while staring at our combined hands as he drags me along the hallways. Then his feet halt and I skid to a stop alongside him. My eyes scan the area before focusing on the plastic window in front of us. It reminds me of the windows at the zoo, they aren't glass but really thick plastic. That's how Mitch explained it to me, at least.

Mitch would sit and describe things to me for hours. We would go on the topic of what the bathrooms at school were like for at least an hours. He was so patient and answered my every question with countless details. I think he knew deep down I would never get to experience many of the things he had, so he took pity on me and let me experience them through his words.

Parker switches on the light switch and the room lights up. One of the things I hated about the window in the asylum's cafeteria was that not only could they see us, but we could see them. I didn't want to see their disgusted faces and laughing fingers.

When I look through this window now, I know that whatever is inside can see me and hates every second I stand here staring.

There's a figure in the corner that is obviously trying to escape the light. Sadly, there are no shadows to hide in. The figure is wearing an army uniform but there's blood on it. Actually, there's blood everywhere. When the figure turns around and faces us, I swallow hard, biting my lip to keep from crying. The face. Oh my god, the face. It's puffy and swollen and red and I can't find the eyes because there's too much bruising and their lips are split and their cheeks are black and blue and it can't be a person's face.

It can't be Miles's face.

When tears brim my eyes, I glance away to try to clear them. He was trying to kill me or hurt me somehow, so why do I feel pity for him? Instead, I should be thankful and happy he got what he deserved. But he looks so miserable and a part of me understands and longs to free Miles of his pain. That look is one I used to wear quite well, and I know how excruciating it feels. It's a pain you can never really get rid of no matter how hard you try.

"Did you do that?" My voice isn't even a whisper, yet somehow Parker hears me and nods his head slowly as if unsure how I'll react. The lump in my throat seems to disappear all at once as I look over at him. "Parker, why did you have him followed around by Ryder?"

"He used to beat his girlfriend." Parker's voice echoes through the hallway. "I say that in past tense because she is now regrettably deceased. Hawkins would not allow me to remove him from the compound, or the army in general, because we are low on soldiers. Jenkins is not very fond of females so when you arrived, I put Ryder on him just as a precaution, but obviously that did not work out as intended."

That makes a lot of sense.

As if my mind was wiped clean of emotion, I feel no more pity. If I understand correctly, Miles beat his girlfriend to death because he doesn't like girls and so when I came along, that was not smiled upon to him. What was he going to do with me though? Kill me? Did he expect no one to notice I was missing?

He must not have thought it through because I know he isn't stupid enough to think he could get away with it. Miles's face looks worse when he sees me and frowns deeply. This guy admires Hawkins too. Am I forgetting that?

"Okay." My head is starting to spin. "You were right. I need to rest." If it weren't for his hand acting as a lifeline, I would be face first on the floor. Parker's eyes peer down at me and I clutch his arm tightly. Didn't he say something about extreme exhaustion being a side effect of the healing I received?

"Do you need assistance, love?" He asks and I stare up at him. That question is starting to become hilarious to me. The other times he asked me that I shot him down when in all honesty I did need his help. I was stupid to pass up the offer the first two times. I thought help was weakness but not admitting you need help is even worse. I don't plan on being stupid a third time.

"Yeah." I concede. "I-I do."

"But I really insist that you – wait – what?"

"I said yes, Parker." I spit out. "I need your assistance." The surprise flashes in and out of his features and I can't say it isn't humorous. I caught him off guard for once. He scoops me up off the ground and I'm so dizzy I don't even make a noise. He holds me against his chest, one arm under my knees and the other under my back. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in the crease between his shoulder and his neck.

We're walking for quite a while and I hear a few murmured voices on the way to the same room I woke up in. There is nothing to differentiate this room from my room beside the door that is open to a large office. There looks to be a desk inside with tons of paperwork and maps on it. It must be Parker's room.

He lays me down on the bed before sitting down in the desk chair he pulled up next to the bed. I curl up into a ball to contain heat and he pulls the sheets over me. I hug the corners to my chest, my head on the soft pillow, and my eyes studying Parker as he studies me.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" I ask and he smirks at me.

"I would but it seems my bed is preoccupied." I tense up visibly at that. This is Parker's bed. The bed that Parker sleeps in every night. The mirror above the dresser cracks due to my new revelation. When Miles kidnaps me my power doesn't work but it works now. Of course.

I'm in Parker's bed.

"I can sleep somewhere else." I attempt and he laughs. It's a good sound. It's a sound that I want trap in a jar, screw the lid on tight, and carry with me to only open in times of desperation. It's a sound I want to catch in my hand and never open my palm to let it go. It's a sound I want to put on repeat.

I think it's my favorite sound in the whole world.

"No, love, I would prefer for you to be in my sight so I can make sure you are alright." He says softly and I smile.

"You're going to watch me sleep?" I tease and he raises his eyebrow at me.

Did I just tease him? What is my life coming to? What is even going on? I can feel the sleep creeping in on me, my thoughts slowly slurring, and my eyes are trying to close but I don't want to miss this conversation. I want to stay in this moment for as long as I can to tease him and feel his eyes watch mine struggle to remain open.

"Do you want me to?" He teases back quietly and I yawn, nuzzling myself deeper into his soft sheets. His fluffy pillow feels so relaxing under my head. I'm sleeping on Parker's sheets. My head is on top of Parker's pillow. The sleep is now definitely pulling the veil over my eyes. I can practically feel the drowsiness taking over and the exhaustion begging to be vanished.

"You know," my voice is a murmur as I change the subject, "it's not like I'm taking up the whole bed." My blurry eyes watch as he stills. His whole body just stops everything and is on edges. I totally understand it too. All I've ever done is shoot him down and now all of the sudden I'm offering half of the bed to him. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's not such a great idea.

He takes a while to answer me.

"You have absolutely no idea how tempting that offer is but alas, my love, I must decline. It would not be a wise decision for me to share such a space with you." His words are measured and calculated and I sigh deeply.

"I was just offering, Parker. No need to get cagey." My tone is soft but my words are not. Parker's stiff composure deflates like a balloon and I can barely make out his smirk in the darkness. "Are you going to be here when I wake up?"

The lights flicker a little even though they're off. Parker notices, unfortunately. His smirk becomes a smile and I finally allow my eyes to close not even caring for his answer anymore. I'm so close to sleep I can taste it. My consciousness is slowly fading; I'm slowly slipping from reality. But then I feel his calloused hand grabbing and holding mine, taking it away from its position of clutching the sheets, and claiming it as his. Parker's draws those infuriating, exasperating, frustratingly perfect circles on the back of my palm with his thumb, and it keeps me awake just a minute longer. Just enough time to hear his whispered response.

"Always."