Saving: Protecting: One Direction *UNDER MASSIVE EDITING*

EIGHT

EIGHT

JACK

"Shit!" I swore, jumping out of my chair and rushing into my bathroom. My shirt was off in milliseconds, my eyes scanning my body for any other injuries. Luckily, the only source of blood was coming from my left shoulder. The boys were trying to cram themselves into my tiny bathroom, shouting once again, but this time in a panic over whether or not I was okay. Wetting a towel, and running it over the wound, I managed to tell them, "GUYS! It's alright, I'm not going to die or anything, the bullet just grazed my shoulder."

They all shut up as the words sunk in. "Bullet?" Zayn asked in a terrified sort of whisper. I took the towel off my arm, turned to show the shallow cut stretching across my shoulder. Liam gently took my arm, turning it so he could see it better. "But how do you know it's clean? It may get infected. Oh my God, what if it was laced with poison? C'mon, we need to get you to the hospital before-"

He cut off suddenly, face turning the color of sour milk. "Oh Lord, your shirt's completely soaked in blood," He mumbled, staring fixedly at the lights above my head. I looked down at my once pristinely white tank top, now tie-dyed in red blood. Both Zayn and Louis backed out of the room within a millisecond, shouting something about finding a towel. Niall mumbled something about getting me a shirt, and disappeared with the others.

While Liam was still staring pointedly at the light, face paling considerably by the second, Harry's eyes were locked on my shirt. A weird expression was etched on his features, oddly, it was something between the lines of terror and fury. Sighing, I reached up to open the medicine cabinet, extracting some rubbing alcohol and gauze.

A gentle hand on my lower arm stopped me from uncapping the alcohol. "Here, I'll do it," Harry murmured, gently spinning me around and pulling the strap of my tank top down. Gently, he dabbed a cotton ball against the lid of the container, before touching it to the bloody streak on my shoulder.

Of course I was perfectly able of doing this myself, but I figured it would be rude at this point to deny his help. So I stood there, completely still, staring at my feet while the alcohol stung at my arm. He wrapped it tightly with gauze when he was done, and stepped back as though to admire his handy work.

"Thank you," I murmured, quickly meeting his eyes before turning around and gently peeling off my shirt. At once, Harry and Liam both gave shouts of protest, Liam covering his eyes while Harry turned to face the wall. Confused, I looked down. Did I forget to put on a bra this morning? Did someone mysteriously tattoo inappropriate things on my stomach while I slept? But everything seemed to be fine. My black sports bra properly in place, stomach free of marks.

"What?" I asked them, hearing the confusion in my own voice. "You're only in a bra," Liam replied, hands still clamped roughly over his face. "Good observation skills. Now what's the problem?" Harry turned away from the wall, making a big deal of only looking at my face. "Jack, you're in a bra in front of a bunch of guys...doesn't that bother you?"

Understanding hit me like a brick. Letting out a weak chuckle, I turned back to the sink to clean up the mess of blood. "I grew up with an older brother, all my teammates are guys. There were times when taking your shirtless off in front of a whole bunch of guys is necessary. So no, it doesn't bother me anymore." Neither one of them said anything. Glancing in the mirror, I say Harry's eyebrows furrowed as though wondering what situation I could ever get into that involved me having to take off my shirt. Liam, however, looked as though he had glued his hands over his eyes.

"I don't know why you guys are being so weird about me in a bra. Let's be honest here, it's not like you haven't seen girls in their bras before," I told them, wincing when I accidently used my bad arm to reach to put the things back in the medicine cabinet. "What do you mean?" Liam asked cautiously. I looked up to find him peeking out from in-between his fingers at me. "I'm positive that none of you are still virgins."

"Man, what did I miss?" Niall walked in the bathroom, just in time to hear my last little statement. "You probably don't want to know," Harry said, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. Niall handed me a shirt, pointedly staring at my face just as Harry had. "Thanks," I murmured, slipping the black fabric over my head.

With that, I turned and walked back into my room, Niall and Harry parting to let me pass. Louis and Zayn were on my bed again, and as I took my place at my desk chair, the others gathered around Zayn and Louis. Sitting there, looking down at their solemn faces, I could help but realize how much it reminded me of innocent children, not knowing what was going on, but having complete trust that I would make it okay. Agitation beginning to mount, I ran a hand through my hair.

"So obviously, someone very nearly shot Niall and-"

"You saved me." Niall interrupted, staring at me through intense blue eyes. I shook my head, "I was doing my job. It's no big heroic feat. But what concerns me the most is that someone was close enough to the house that I could hear the safety being pulled off, but was far enough away to escape within seconds. And of course, that he or she very nearly managed to kill Niall....but then how did he or she even manage to get here in the first place? This house is guarded with some of the best security that I've seen, and the person slipped through the security twice. Which begins to make me wonder if an employee is the one doing it, or secretly in on it.

"But then how did he or she get the gun? Guns aren't allowed in London, even the police don't have them. Only a select few people can use them, including me, and we all know it wasn't me to do this. So the person either illegally smuggled one in, or already had the authority to have one. And of course, both of these factors would lead to two entirely different profiles, so really I'm trying to create two profiles instead of one, which is ridiculously challenging when it comes down to trying to figure out the suspect. Then I'm basing both profiles off the simple fact of gun use, which is ludicrous and almost no evidence can be backed on it. Not to mention we don't even know if this is a singular person, or a group of people..." I trailed off, realizing that I was more speaking my thoughts aloud than answering their questions. I sighed, and ran another hand through my hair. If I kept playing with it like that, I'd be bald in a month.

It was highly unprofessional of me to tell them all the details like I had. But the lack of sleep and amount of stress I had been continuously dealing with was almost too much. My head began to throb, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers and sleep for a year. But I couldn't do that, not yet anyway. "Who do you think is doing this?" Louis asked, unnaturally serious. "At this point, it could be anyone." They waited for me to go on, but I didn't say anything else. No one asked me to tell them what I thought. I think they knew they wouldn't get an answer out of me.

Grabbing a pen and pad of paper off my desk, I tossed it to Liam while saying, "I'll need a list of people you guys are around the most. Writers and producers you work with, friends, celebrities, celebrity friends, anyone you can think of." Liam quickly wrote down a few names, before passing it around the circle. Each boy added a few names each, and when the list got back to me, it was with great relief that I saw that the list was relatively short. It not only made my life easier to do background checks on them, but it also meant a smaller number of people who could possibly be targeted.

"So what do we do? Do we go into hiding? Get even more security?" Zayn asked, in a tired sort of way. "Go on with life the way you normally would," I shrugged, "you're recording today, right?" He nodded, still looking unsure. Forcing a smile on my lips, I made sure to meet each one of them in the eyes. My stomach automatically twisted into knots, as I lied straight through my teeth, "Don't worry, I'll catch the person soon enough."