Suicide Watch

Chapter 4

Isa's POV.

I am up early the next day. Sleeping on the couch is uncomfortable, but I have slept in worse conditions- a lot much worse. One benefit of being a bodyguard for rich people is that I usually get an entire room of my own. Evidently, this will not be the case here.

My phone is to my ear and I'm pacing around the cramped living room as I wait for Simon to pick up. He does so after the fifth ring.

"Isabella-"

"Simon," I say sharply, interrupting him. "There's been a mistake with the assignment. I'm not meant to be here." This very thought has been on my mind since I stepped foot in this apartment yesterday.

"Mhhm," Simon murmurs, sounding uninterested, "and why is that?"

I can faintly hear him typing away in the background. It is obvious that he is giving what I'm saying little to no attention.

"I was told that I would be a bodyguard. You know, the usual stuff."

"And you're not?"

"No, I'm not. The subject is not in any real danger..."

"I see." The sound of typing from the other line grows louder.

"Simon," I say, "I need to be taken off this assignment."

"Yeah, Isa. So um... that will not happen."

An irritation passes through me and I push it down. "Why not?"

"Because it's your assignment. And you don't have a legitimate reason to be taken off the assignment."

I pause. Had he not heard anything I just said?

"I already told you. The mom hired me because the subject is grieving. The only potential threat they face is possibly themselves, and even then-"

"Then protect them. You're a bodyguard, that's what you do."

"Yeah, I usually protect people from external forces, not from themselves. The subject does not need a bodyguard, what they need is a therapist." That is the simplest way I can think of putting it. And I cannot, for the life of God, wrap my head around why Senator Adeola hadn't just taken her daughter to a therapist.

"Isa, please complete the assignment and until you've completed the assignment, do not contact the Agency further unless you have a legitimate reason to do so. Goodbye." Simon hangs up, leaving me standing in the cramped living room.

I take the phone away from my ear, throwing it unceremoniously onto the couch I had just spent the night on. A small part of me knew that this was most likely the outcome I would encounter. The Agency hardly ever went back on things after they had made an assignment.

So many things are wrong. If I had known what the assignment was really all about, I never would have accepted it. I am used to dealing with rude rich kids, but grieving rude rich kids is a whole different ball game. Considering the fact that my line of work often involves putting my life in danger, the problem I was having right now was nothing in the grander scheme of things.

But Temi is not even a child. She's almost 21, meaning she's only a few years younger than me. However, she appears younger than she really is due to her small build.

At that moment, Temi's room door opens. My eyes immediately snap up to study the small girl now standing in front of her door. She looks the same as she did yesterday. Dressed in oversized clothes, dark bags under her eyes, and her full lips dry and cracked in places.

For a few moments, Temi seems to have forgotten who I am and why I'm here. Then she registers it and her eyes, that were filled with confusion a few moments ago, turn hard. She crosses the hall to the bathroom without a word to me.

At least she's alive, so I haven't failed my assignment yet, I think to myself before a brief feeling of guilt passes through me. She has just lost her best friend to suicide. It's clear that she is going through a really hard time, and I'm sure she wouldn't feel better knowing the snarky remarks I was making in my head.

Grief is something I am used to. Working in the military it was almost like second nature. I had seen it several times. I have experienced it myself, and I know it is not the best feeling in the world.

The bathroom door opens, and Temi appears once again.

"Good morning," I say. I think of forcing a smile onto my face, but decide against it. I'm not one for false pleasantries.

It doesn't matter anyway, as Temi does not reply. She makes her way back to her room, shutting her door firmly behind her.

I sit back on the sofa before I stand up a few moments later and start doing stretches. After which I clean the small apartment. It is not particularly messy, but not in the best condition either. I figure that if Temi does not want to talk to me, I could at least try to make things easier for her in whatever way that I can.

Her mom had bought groceries the day before and I cook, humming slightly to myself. I am beginning to feel a lot more like a housewife rather than a bodyguard and I smile to myself. It's a strange feeling, having this much time on my hands. It's not something that I experience often.

Evening comes round sooner than I expect and I make my way over to Temi's room with a plate of food in my hand. I knock on the door and wait. No reply. I push the door open, surprised to find it unlocked.

Temi is curled up on her bed in a fetal position, clutching her blankets towards herself as if they would slip through her fingers. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her face is screwed up. It's clear that she is having a nightmare of sorts.

For a moment, the thought of waking her up passes through me. But I realize that whatever it is she's dreaming about couldn't possibly be worse than her current reality. So instead, I linger, watching her with the plate of food in my hand.

Then, just as quietly as I had come- I retreat.

The next few days follow a similar pattern. Temi hardly ever comes outside of her room, except for a trip to the bathroom and a glare at me. I preferred this over when she just straight out ignored me.

I begin bringing Temi food every day and leaving it on a tray placed outside her door. At first, Temi would ignore the food, and subsequently, ignore me when she made her trips to the bathroom.

After a while, she stops ignoring the food, and takes it into her room with her. She still ignores me, but I didn't care as much about that. At least she is eating again, which is the most important thing to me. After all, my job here is to keep her alive. In every sense of the word.