I was kicked out of home on my eighteenth birthday, with nothing but the clothes I was wearing. My parents didn't like the idea of me making my own choices and becoming a bodyguard; they wanted me to work for them, and become a lawyer. I haven't spoken to my parents since.
One year later, I'm going for a job interview to be some famous person's bodyguard, who happens to be Louis Tomlinson.
We are always arguing and annoying each other but we have to learn to get along as we don't want anyone getting hurt; or worse, killed.


11. Chapter Ten





Chapter Ten: Two, one.


“Are you sure you are alright Lou?” Harry asks, for the sixth time today. Louis has seemed a bit off since the photo shoot the other day. He can’t seem to relax and is on edge. I think it has something to do with the piece of paper he picked up off the ground. But, unfortunately when I asked him what it was he said it was ‘nothing’ and when I was doing the washing I forgot about it until after his jeans were washed so the paper was soggy and I couldn’t see anything wrong with it.

The other boys and I have been trying to cheer him up and get him to tell us what is wrong but he replies with the same two words; “I’m fine.”

I share a knowing look with the others; we all know he’s lying.

It’s quite depressing seeing Louis like this. He’s usually so happy and enthusiastic and not only is his mood down, everyone else’s is because he is unhappy. He should be excited, in less than five minutes they will be performing on stage.

A man in black pops his head in the door, “You guys are up.”

Liam replies with “Coming.” and we all stand up following him out the door.

“Come on Lou. Just relax and have fun.” I pat him on the back, leading him out the door.

We are lead around backstage and stop underneath the stage. A man tells me I need to go so I do after wishing them good luck.

If you are interested as to why I’m not helping the other security guards out, its because if I help out everyone will know the truth; that I’m not actually Louis’ girlfriend, I’m his bodyguard.

As I wonder around backstage I hear loud screams erupt meaning the boys must have begun the concert. I can’t help but smile as they sing ‘midnight memories’. I hate to admit it, but these boys are growing on me. They are really just normal guys, doing what they love.

I begin to bob my head to the beat but stop when I hear an unfamiliar voice coming from the cleaner’s closet.

“Quick, we better get going. This thing has ten minutes before it’s going to blow.” A man with a deep and creepy voice whispers.

“Crap.” I mutter, running to hide around the corner.

“Lets go.” another voice whispers.

I peep around the corner and see two huge men walk out of the closet. One has dark spikey hair, and the other is bald. From what I can tell, baldy is the leader.

Baldy halts, and turns in my direction. I quickly whip my head back behind the wall, praying they didn’t see me.

It’s quiet, really quiet. Maybe they have left.

I decide to test my luck and peep my head around the corner to find that the two men are gone. I close my eyes, and try to remember their appearance for later. If I’m going to catch these men, I need to know what they look like.

I open my eyes once I have a clear vision of them and walk around the corner and open the cleaner’s closet.

I gasp and put a hand over my mouth, before slowly walking toward the bomb.

As I’m about to call the police, my mobile is knocked out of my hands and arms are wrapped around me. I try to scream but a hand is quick to cover my mouth.

It’s then I realise that baldy is holding me. I turn to glare at him, and kick and squirm in hopes to get out of his tight grip. Fuck.

“Oh, you aren’t going nowhere.”

I lick his hand, but he doesn’t let me go, he just smirks. “Save your tongue for later.” he says.

“Mike, help me tie her up to this pole.” he points to the pole on the wall. I kick and kick and kick more; I am not going to get tied up. No way.

Baldy lifts me up effortlessly,and walks me over to the wall that is oh, so kindly right nextto the bomb. I notice there are only eight more minutes until it goes off.

Baldy starts to lose his grip on my so he uncovers my mouth so he can use two arms to pin me against the wall. I don’t scream though, instead I ask him a question. “Why are you doing this?” I hiss.

He doesn’t reply, only placing a sloppy kiss to my lips. Ew. When he pulls away I spit in his face, “Here’s your saliva back.” He cringes and wipes the spit off his face, before punching me in the stomach, winding me and I feel a sharp jab. I then notice the pointy ring he is wearing. It’s sharp, but not short. I almost sigh in relief when I realise it’s only going to cut me minorly.

Mike has now successfully tied my arms to the pole, and has started to tape my legs to the wall, as Baldy starts trailing kisses all over me. My collarbone, my neck, my jaw and the filthy bastard, even just above my boob. Ew, ew, ew.

I try to push him away but he is way too strong for me. “Stop.” I hiss.

He smirks and kisses me on the lips shoving his tongue down my throat. I squirm, effectively slowing Mike down but not so much for baldy. He continues to kiss me and I suddenly feel very violated. I’m not going to let this keep going on.

I bite down on his tongue as hard as I can until I taste blood and he backs away. “You filthy bitch!” He hells, spitting bloody saliva out of his mouth. I smirk before head butting him, hard. I hiss in pain but pull through and kick him in the belly causing him to buckle over in pain and me breaking out of mike’s grip.

“Don’t worry about finishing up with that bitch. There’s five minutes left and it’s not like she will be able to get away or stop the bomb.” Baldy says, through clenched teeth. I smirk and yell out “Bye bye!” sweetly as they run towards the exit of the building.

When they are out of eye sight, I get to work.

Luckily, when I was in training, I was taught how to untie yourself from a chair. Unfortunately, I’m tied to a pole. I look around for a sharp object I could use as a knife and find some broken glass on the ground. I begin to walk my feet towards the glass and drag it back to me using my feet once I have reached it. Now keep in mind that my arms are still tied just above my head, so I am obviously struggling.

When the glass is finally close enough for me to drag it up my leg I feel hope.

I can do this.

Not knowing any other way to get the glass to my mouth, I use my right foot and drag it up my left leg. I cry in pain when it digs into my skin and blood starts dripping down my shins.

I can do this, I reassure myself. I can do this.

I continue to drag the glass up my legs, slicing my kneecap on the way, which causes me once again to cry in pain.

I try to ignore the pain in my legs as I lift both legs in the air. Pain shoots through my hands as the rope burns and cuts them. I lean my head down towards the glass, that now has blood over it and pick it up with my mouth. It takes a while, and I’m lucky I have fairly strong abs otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hold it. I breathe a breathe of relief as I drop my legs to the ground. I take a few deep breaths before, tilting my head back and standing on my tippy-toes and begin to cut through the rope.

I glance down at the bomb and it says there are two minutes left. It’s the little push of motivation I need because I begin to cut the rope through faster and before I know it I am free.

I waste no time in opening the bomb up. I remember, in the first few months of training, I was taught how to deactivate a bomb. There are three wires, a green one, a red one and a blue one. You are to cut the blue one. Or is it the green one? I begin to panic as I have forgotten which wire to cut. I lead the glass from wire to wire, before quickly cutting the blue one as there are only twenty seconds left. I wait for it to stop counting down, but it doesn’t. “Shit, shit, shit.” I cuss repeatedly and as the timer hits ten seconds I cut the green rope.

The bomb continues to count down eight, seven, six, five…

I brace myself to be blown up, because that wire was my only hope. You never cut the red one.

I count down from three, to my death. “Two, one.” 

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