All Lights On Us

C17: Surrender or Fight

Klara POV

I faintly hear Bishop jog toward me with a broom and dust pan. The ringing in my ears is back, but twice as loud. My lip curls at my phone in disgust. Whoever is doing this is going to pay for this. I feel like one of mine and Bishop's most precious moments as been invaded. 

Someone watched us.

I clap my hand over my mouth and run for the bathroom. The stress mixed with last night's alcohol has me hunched over for nearly five minutes. It isn't until after I flush the toilet do I feel Bishop's hand rubbing circles on my back. My hair's already up, but he still uses one of his hands to keep the strays out of the firing path. 

"Are you okay? What the hell happened there?" 

Bishop's worried voice makes me want to be strong. Strong for him, strong for me, and stronger than the piece of shit who's harassing me.

I sit up but stay on the floor with my back to the sink. I gesture loosely up to where my phone was slammed down on the sink counter in my race for the toilet bowl. Bishop picks up my phone and scrolls through the texts. When he lets out a breath, it's in disbelief. 

"Who the fuck could this be?" 

Even Bishop sounded done with it all. Usually he's the one signing 'pick yourself back up again', but right now, he looks like he just wants to lie down on the ground and stare at the ceiling for days. Or maybe that's me. I don't know anymore.

"I don't know Bishop, but I feel so..." I trailed off and wrapped my arms around myself.

Exposed is the word I want to use, but I don't want to say it out loud. It's almost as if it would expose me more. 

"I'll fix this, Klara. This doesn't mean you should stop relaxing and enjoying yourself. I don't want this to make us go backward a step."

I can't help but sarcastically laugh. One step forward and two steps back. That's how he's feeling. 

"You see, I'm not exactly worried about if I'm letting loose, Bishop. I'm worried that someone is watching me have sex. I'm worried that someone is going to hurt you. Or me. I'm worried, with probable cause might I add, that someone wants us dead. So, if you would so kindly stop worrying about if I'm having fun or not; I would greatly appreciate it."

My whole body is stiff after that one, but I've finally found the words to voice how his pushing for me to go wild has made me feel. Nothing about this is fun.

But he's still trying.

Bishop had been staring at me after my sassy outburst, but after a few moments of waiting, possibly for an apology, he turns his back and strides out of the bathroom. With my phone. 

"Bishop!" 

I struggle to get up and rush out of the bathroom. When I make it to the front door, it's just closing. My heart sinks. Throwing the door open, I rush down the stairs and call after him as he hops on his motorcycle.

"God, Bishop. Please. I'm sorry, alright? Don't drive mad!" 

He completely ignores me, making me feel like I just received a big 'ol 'fuck you'. 

Bishop takes off faster than I've ever seen him drive before and I curse. He's left me without a phone, the idiot. I rush inside and grab my gun, tucking it into my waist band. It's the only form of protection I'll have until he comes back. Fuck.

--

It's eight in the evening and Bishop is still gone. With my damn phone. I've done everything to pass the time. Work out? Check. Eat? Double check.