Welcome to the Queendom

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Uh," I stammered making him frown.
"What's wrong, Abby?" he asked. "Am I scaring you?"
I couldn't speak. My throat felt dry. He buried his face in my hair and sniffed. I caught of whiff of him. He smelled like sweat.....and blood.
"You smell like strawberries and whipped cream," he said dreamily.
I tremor ran up and down my spine. This is the first time I've felt scared and creeped out at the same time. Thinking happy thoughts instead of the possibility of what was about to happen was the only thing keeping me from fainting. He finally broke his face away from my head and came around so that he was in front of me. I could feel Luke Harper and Erik Rowan standing really close behind me. Bray turned me toward them and held my chin.
"Look at Sister Abigail, boys," he said.
Erik slowly pushed his lamb mask up. "Pretty," he stated.
Luke Harper just nodded before Bray turned me back around.
"Please just leave me alone," I almost sobbed, finally finding my voice.
He ignored me and looked down at my ankle. He cupped it with both hands and lightly hovered his finger over it. It tickled a little. "We need to get this looked at," he stated.
I quickly shook my head. "No, I just need to get to the locker room," I replied quickly.
Bray grinned. "As you wish," he said and then he scooped me up in his arms as Luke grabbed my duffel bag.
"What are you doing?!" I exclaimed as I started beating on his chest. "Put me down!"
But I might as well have been a pesky mosquito, buzzing in his ear because he waved me away and we started down the hall. I contemplated on screaming, but Bray said in this really low voice, "If you scream, you'll regret it," that made me shut my mouth quick. I didn't have a problem going against guys like Randy, but the Bray Wyatts, Luke Harpers, and Erik Rowans of the world were a different story.
Before I knew it, we arrived at a door marked The Shield and Bray gently set me down on top of my duffel bag.
"Goodbye, Sister Abigail," Bray said as he knocked on the door and disappeared into the shadows with his "family."
The door swung open and Seth looked down on me in confusion. "Chelsea?" he asked, but I was too busy looking down the dark hallway Bray and his minions walked down. "What are you looking at?" he questioned as he followed my gaze, but when he didn't see anything he wrapped his arms around me and picked me up.
"Oh my God, what happened to you? You're shaking like crazy."
I didn't answer once again. He swept me inside the locker room and set me down on the couch before retrieving my bag.
"Dean's not here right now," Seth said slowly, still noticing that I was completely out of it. "He's in catering, but I can go get him for you."
"No!" I exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "Don't leave."
Seth nodded before sitting down next to me on the couch. He wrapped one of his arms around me and pressed his forehead against my hair. "Okay," he said. "I'll stay right here."

"Do you know what happened?"
"No, she was just sitting on her duffel bag at the door, looking at something down the hall. I have no clue what happened, but it must have been bad. She was shaking like a chihuahua."
I opened my eyes into little slits. I hadn't noticed I had fallen asleep. My head was resting on someone's lap, but I was too disoriented to know who's. I shifted my legs a little and whimpered at the pain.
"Chelsea?"
"Dean?" I mumbled. "What happened? When did I fall asleep?"
I opened my eyes. Roman was pacing back and forth behind the couch, Seth was occupying a metal chair and Dean was on the couch, stroking my hair. The TV was on and The Wyatt Family was going against John Cena, Sheamus, and Big E Langston. I almost fainted at the sight of Bray. The memory came back. Of Lesnar and Heyman leaving me hurt on the ground, The Wyatt Family finding me, Bray's bizarre behavior. How he smelled like sweat and blood. And then how he carried me to The Shield's locker room and just....disappeared. And who exactly was Sister Abigail? Why was she so important to Bray and the others?
I could still feel Bray's lips and nose in my hair.
"Dean?" I said. "What do I smell like?"
"What do you smell like?" he asked, frowning. He shrugged. "Like strawberries and whipped cream, I guess. Why?"
I shook my head. "No reason."
"What happened to you?" Roman asked still trying to wear the carpet down into a trench.
I shook my head again. I couldn't tell them about Bray. They'd go nuts. Besides Bray and his goons weren't the enemy. Heyman and Lesnar were and something had to be done about them.
"The winners of this match, The Wyatt Family!"
"Those three are creeps," Dean stated. "They should be in a mental ward."
"You have no idea," I muttered as I glanced at the screen. Bray was looking dead into the camera...and dead at me.
I started shaking again as he mouthed, "I see you, Sister Abigail."

You'd think I was running from the police. I kept looking over my shoulder as I limped down the hall toward catering, looking out for Heyman and Lesnar, Bray and his goons, or both.
"Hey."
"Oh, gosh!" I screamed as I bumped into Randy. Breathless, I placed my hand over my heart. "Don't do that!" I punched him in the arm.
He winced. "What did I do?" he asked. "What's your problem?"
I took a couple of breaths before doing another once over around me. "Nothing," I answered. "Sorry."
"You need some air?" he questioned, but I shook my head.
"I'm fine, really."
"Where ya headed?" he asked.
"Catering."
He jerked his head, signaling for me to follow and I did.
"Chelsea?" he questioned after a few moments.
"Yeah?" I said.
"Like my shirt?"
I looked down at my hands to where I was clutching the back hem of Randy's Viper shirt. I quickly let go. "My bad," I said.
"You are really jumpy," he observed. "Wanna talk about it?"
I shook my head. "The catering room?" I reminded him.
Randy took my ankle and propped it on the empty chair next to me while he took the one on the other side. He looked at me expectantly.
"What?" I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair.
"What's going on with you?" he asked.
"I told you, it's nothing. I guess I've just been a little nervous lately," I explained.
"About?"
"About my business," I snapped but regretted it. I didn't mean to come off so rude and I knew he was just concerned about me, but I felt as if he was being a little too pushy. Asking the same question millions of time in a matter of a couple minutes can make someone a little irritable.
"How are we supposed to be friends if we can't tell the truth to each other?" he asked, matching my mood.
"It's not the fact that I don't want to tell you the truth. I'm just not in the mood to be pushed to tell you right now."
"I'm not pushing you!" he argued.
"Uh, yeah, you are. Asking me the same question time and again? That's pushing, Randy."
He shook his head. "Whatever," he mumbled as he leaned back and folded his arms over his chest.
"What's your problem?" I asked.
"My business," he stated simply.
"Exactly."