I WAS STILL BREATHING. That's good, right?

          But why is it that right now, it didn't feel good.

          I had been beaten up growing up, outside and inside of the ring and I was so sure that I've gotten used to pain, I've learned to swallow it but I was wrong. Everything was hurting—my back, my head, my face—even inhaling to breathe was hurting me.

          There was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to stay here until everyone could see how I was badly bruised, wounded, and kicked by a bunch of sophomores who thought that they'd become superior and popular if they follow Christi's orders like a bunch of soldiers who didn't know what they were getting into.

          The blood was everywhere and I didn't know whether it was coming from the wounds or my mouth. Everything was going to be swollen for weeks, I'm going to have to wear a sling around my neck because of the dislocated shoulder, and I'm, for sure, going to be covered with bandages like a fucking mummy in one of the Egyptian tombs.

          Using my un-splattered-to-the-ground-hand, I reached for the phone in my pocket, opening it with my fingerprint. As I was scrolling through my contacts, I heard the door open. Instantly, I dropped my phone on the ground and tried to pull myself up in order to run away.

          "Jesus, fuck!"

          It was Tyler Stone. The relief washing over me made me crumble down to the ground once more, my chest hurting like hell.

          Soon enough, I could hear his footsteps stopping when he reached me, kneeling down with his eyes wandering everywhere.

          "Who the fuck did this to you?" His hands were hovering over me. It felt like he was afraid to touch me, to hurt me.

          I wanted to tell him that I was used to getting hurt.

          But, the humor in everything made me smile and it had hurt. My lips were busted. "I don't—" I wheezed, gasping for air "—think that's the—" wheezed "—important thing right—" wheezed again "—now, don't you think?"

          He was panicking. It was obvious. "Okay, okay, um, I'm going to get you up, okay?"

          Without warning, his arms were around my neck and at the back of my knees, ready to pull me up; but I had groaned out loud when my shoulder hit his chest and he let me go immediately.

          "Shit," he heaved, running his hand through his long hair. "I don't know how I'm going to do this without hurting you."

          For a moment, we gazed at each other and I noticed how the chocolate brown eyes I saw were actually hazel. They looked green and at the same time brown. It was beautiful.

          He was the first one to look away, grabbing his phone. "I'm calling Travis."

          Before I could protest, he had already pressed his phone to his ear. "Can you meet me at the back? Yes, now. Fuck, just get here, you idiot and bring the rest of the guys. It's about Sam. Hurry!"

          "Shouldn't—have done—that," I glared at him. "We're—not okay."

          He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, for the moment, that's the least of my problems when you look like you've been pounded by a meat cleaver."

          Still, I managed a laugh. "Good to know that I don't look good."

          After a few minutes, the door opened and I could hear Travis cursing and running towards me. "What the fuck happened?" He shouted at Tyler.

          "I don't know!" Tyler raised his hands up in the air in surrender. "You need to tell me what to do. I tried to move her but it looks like her shoulder's dislocated."

          "Hey, guys, what's—"

          Fuck. Sean.

          I had forgotten to tell Tyler not to bring my brother but, of course, he was part of the group.

          For years, growing up with him, I made sure that he wouldn't see any blood coming out from parts of my body. Sure, it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to cover up my bruised eye or wounded cheek but at least in those days, they were healing and right now, everything wasn't healing.

          Sean had pushed Riley back to get a closer view of me. "What the fuck did you do?" He yelled out to Travis.

          "I didn't do anything, man! Tyler found her!"

          "Can you guys—" I coughed, tasting blood on my tongue. "—just put my shoulder back in place?"

          To my surprise, Robbie was the first one to move, pushing Tyler back and grabbing my arm and bending it up. I gritted my teeth, the pain worsening.

          "On the count of three, I'm placing this back," Robbie nodded at me. "One—"

          I screamed. He lied, there was no two and three.

I blinked. I was lying in someone's bed.

          The familiarity of the coral blue walls and the framed pictures on the bedside table dawned on me on where I was. I was in Travis Mason's house—in his room, to be exact.

          "Your brother's downstairs," my head snapped to the voice. Travis was sitting on the floor where I sat when I was eating in here. He was playing with his hands, a nervous tick I guess. "He's getting along well with Mrs. Aries. Also, the guys are with them."

          Pulling myself to sit, I could feel the tightness of the bandages around my chest, my arm resting on a sling, my hand covered in bandages too, and my face with Band-Aids everywhere. It still had hurt but the pain on my shoulder was merely a sense of discomfort now that it was popped back in place. 

          He turned his head towards me, revealing the forming red and blue bruise on his cheek. "You want to tell me how the hell this happened to you?"

          I gave him a weak smirk, my lip splitting even more open. Ow. "You should have seen the other guys."

          His eyes rolled at me as he stood up, walking closer. "I don't have the energy to joke about this, Sam, and with the looks of it, I know you don't have it too."

          "Last time I checked, I told you that you should mind your own business," I hissed at him. "Do you hear me asking what the hell happened to your cheek? No."

          "Your brother thinks that it's my fault for what happened to you," he answered. "Is he right? Do I have something to do with this?"

          "Fuck off."

          In no way shape or form did I blame him with what happened because I knew that this could happen to any girl who would become his fake or real girlfriend. Christi was a real bitch who needed to be taught that she couldn't hide from all the money that her parents have. She was the problem. Not him, not anyone else.

          And I was going to be the one to teach her that lesson as soon as I heal.

          His nose flared. "You're such a bitch."

          "You're a jerk," I spat.

          "Will you just fucking talk to me?" He didn't yell, only mumbled it. "Tell me who the fuck did this to you. You have a few bruised ribs, a black eye, bruises on your cheek, and for fuck's sake, you're lucky that your hand is only bruised which meant that someone stepped on it hard enough for it to be like that."

          For the life of me, I didn't want to tell him. This was Travis Mason, for God's sakes. He wasn't going to do anything. He was just asking because of his curiosity. He'll probably laugh at me once I tell him that I didn't punch Christi first before his dogs could do the same to me.

          "I don't trust you," I said, calmly, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm done playing this weird cat and mouse game with you. Like I said before this happened, I'm still going to play the perfect girlfriend for you but don't try to dig into my business. Thank you for letting me stay here but I'm just going to catch a ride with my brother."

          As I struggled to stand up, he walked towards me but stopped after a few steps. He was close enough to hold me and help but he didn't.

          We both knew that it was for the best.

          I walked past him, my bandaged hand holding my chest, feeling my insides were going to fall out; and I called out from my brother, telling him that we needed to go but not before saying thank you to the guys without meeting their eyes.

* * * *

SEAN DIDN'T ASK anything when we reached his car and drove back home. I knew that he wanted to know what happened, and that he had a right to know being my brother but for some reason, he just didn't ask any of it.

          All he asked me was, "are you ok?''

          To which I turned to him and gave him a blank look and then, rolling my eyes at him. "What do you think?"

          "I think," he started, making a left turn before glancing at me briefly. "that after you heal up and your shoulder doesn't hurt anymore, you're going to make sure that the person or people who did this to you end up in the hospital."

          And he could not be more right about that.

          "Alex found out about what happened, by the way," he shrugged at me when I turned to him with wide eyes. "I don't know who told him but he called me, said that as soon as you could, you should call him. Also, dad's home. You think you can handle his shit for a while?"

          "Can I just have one problem at a time, please?" I closed my eyes.

          "Apparently, you can't."

          "I fucking hate this life."

          Might as well get over it already. Picking up my phone from my pocket, I pressed Alex's name and waited for him to answer the call.

          He answered on the first ring. "Thank God, you're not lying on the ground somewhere. Jesus, Sam, why didn't you at least call me?"

          "I get beaten up during fights and you're never worried about me," I rolled my eyes. "Now, all of a sudden, just because a couple of guys get the jump on me, you're worried? I'm fine, Alex. I managed to call you and I'm not slurring my words, didn't I?"

          He ignored everything I've said. "I'm going to stay over later. Leave your window open."

          "Seriously, Alex? I don't—" I didn't even get to finish what I was going to say because he had already hang up before I could do it.

          Fucking asshole.