Saving Peyton

Digging Deeper

Chapter Four

"Please, come on in." I hear Gerry say to whoever is at the front door. "I shall take you to your room."

Ahh, it must be Mac, he's here kinda early. Quickly, I throw the covers over my bed and do a quick tidying up of my room before he reached it.

"Ma'am, you have a visitor. Mac is his name," I hear Gerry call out from the other side of the door.

"Come in," I call out softly, positioning myself on my bed, stomach down, legs crossed and flipping through a magazine, got to keep up appearances. Gerry opens the door and allows Mac to enter. Mac mumbles something under his breath, I think it was a thank you, but I wasn't sure. Gerry nods his head in response to whatever it was that Mac said before closing the door, leaving Mac and I alone in my room.

He looks around nervously, I swing my legs over the bed and get up. "Do you want to stay in here or go outside?" I ask.

"It's whatever," he says in a bored tone.

I shoot him a glare before saying, "Let's go out onto the balcony then." He just shrugs his shoulders and follows me out. What the hell is his problem?

I push open the French doors that lead to my balcony and lead him over to the white wicker chairs that adorn my balcony. Daintily, I sit down on the edge of my chair, crossing my legs, while he plops down in the chair across from me and slouches back. I cringe, those weren't very good manners.

"So, who wants to start first?" I ask, breaking the silence.

He sighs, "What's it like having everything handed to you? Having everyone wait on you hand and foot?"

His questions leaves me speechless, no one had ever been so blunt to me, or rude. "Excuse me?" I ask, stunned.

A smirk unfolds on his face as he levels his gaze at me. Crossing his arms, he replies, "You heard me."

"What the hell is your problem?" I ask, incredulous.

"I have no tolerance for people who think they can boss everyone else around and think that they are better than everyone else, just because they have more money."

"I have never acted like that! You don't know me. And what about you? You're acting like such a victim. I don't even know you!"

"Whatever, I owe you nothing."

"I never said you did!" I shout, throwing my hands up. Enough was enough!

Just as I was about to demand he leave and that we can figure this out another time, that's when I see it, again, the bruise. He follows my gaze to his arm.

"What happened to your arm," I whisper.

His eyes grow wide, looking like a deer-caught-in-headlights. But as quickly as the look came, it went and was replaced by the narrowing of eyes and his mouth forming into a thin line. "None of your goddamn business," he bites out.

I get up and walk over to him. Gently, I lift his sleeve and I gasp, my hand immediately flying to my lips. The bruise was swollen, it was black and blue and purple, it was easily the size of a baseball. "Mac," I breathe, "what...what happened to your arm." A tense silence fills the air. Our eyes never leaving each other.

"I think I should leave," he says through gritted teeth, anger evident in his voice. He pushes past me and walks into my door.

I follow after him, who knows why, but I do. "Mac, wait! Mac!"

"Why?" he spins around, causing me to almost run into him. I look up at him, eyes wide. "Why? So you can throw pity at me? Or maybe you can rub in my face that your life is better than mine? That you have a family who gives a damn about you? Huh? Is that why?"