The elevator doors opened and I looked up from my desk. I’d been back one full week, and nothing had gotten any better. Not the stress. Not the notes left on my desk. Nothing. And to make matters worse, I still felt sick. I debated on talking with Kenneth on how he felt. Maybe it was something we had eaten. Or encountered. Or the water. But every time he passed by my desk and tried to make small talk, he seemed okay.

I, on the other hand, was not okay.

There were multiple requisitions that needed to be logged before I could leave for the day, but the burly man caught my attention. Dressed in all black and holding a stoic glare that could crumble any man to his knees, his eyes locked with mine. He approached my desk and I braced myself for whatever was coming. I didn’t know who he was, but I also didn’t like the way he was looking at me.

“Miss Graves.”

“Yes?” I asked.

“T.J. Miller. I’m the head of security for the company.”

“How can I help you?”

“I’m here to escort you home. Pack your things, please.”

I glanced over at Kenneth’s office, but his door was closed. The lights were on and I could see him through the frosted glass, but the barrier between us was too great. Part of me didn’t want to leave my job for the day unfinished, but part of me was ready to get home. Ready to get back to my mother so I could take care of her.

“Let me shut everything down and I’ll be ready,” I said.

It only took me ten minutes to close down my desk before I followed the man to the elevator. We stepped in and he pressed the button for the main level and I grew nervous. Escorting me home? Had something happened? Was something growing outside because of me?

“Am I being fired?” I asked.

“That isn’t my job, Miss Graves. All I’ve been asked to do is make sure you get home safely.”

The second we stepped outside, I was grateful to have him. Reporters descended on us and thrust microphones into my face. People were snapping pictures as T.J. held them all back, and we made our way across the street to my car. I pulled out of the parking garage with a blacked out car behind me, and it followed me all the way home. I could barely make out the man’s face through his windshield, but I knew he was there.

T.J.

The man tasked with getting me home.

We turned onto my road and I was bombarded with cars coming down the hill. Vans with news logos on the sides and cars honking their horns flooded my small hometown street. I furrowed my brow as I pulled into the driveway and that was when I saw it. Three other massive men dressed all in black escorting the media away from my house. Into their cars and vans before shoving them off down the road.

They were gone.

Holy shit, they were finally gone.

I quickly got out of my car and whipped my head to look down the road. Not a single reporter in sight. I looked back at T.J. who got out of his car, leaned against the door, and grinned. Relief flooded my veins. It felt like I was free again. The three other men walked over to me from across the road, and I watched as one of them walked past me.

Walked up to the porch.

Walked to stand by the door.

“Um… what’s he doing?” I asked.

“Taking up his post. All of us will be taking six-hour shifts,” T.J. said.

“For what?”

“For your safety. Mr. Weber wanted us to-”

“Wait a second. Kenneth put you up to this?” I asked.

T.J. nodded and I sighed. I picked up my purse and slammed my car door closed, then made my way to the porch. I looked up into the eyes of the bear of a man standing beside my mother’s front door before opening it up.

This was ridiculous.

“You’re not staying here,” I said as I turned around.

“Our job is to keep you two safe until the media stops with their circus,” T.J. said as he approached the porch.

“It’s not necessary. You got them to go away. Now you can all go back to the company or wherever it is you perch.”

“And the second we leave, they’ll come back. That’s how they work, Mis Graves.”

“Well you're not staying here.”

“With all due respect, we don’t take our orders from you,” he said.

“And with all due respect, you’re on my property.”

“It’s technically my property.”

I whipped my head around and saw my mother coming into the room from her bedroom. She smiled up at the man as she walked to the front door and poked her head out. Her eyes scaled the broad man standing by the door and she smiled at him. And somehow, without even working at it, she managed to pull a grin across his face.

“If you’re going to be staying, let me go get you a drink,” my mother said.

“A drink? You’re going to feed them? They’re like feral cats. They’ll come back if you feed them.”

“Men or bodyguards?” T.J. asked.

“Both,” I said curtly. “You’re not necessary.”

“Sadly, Mr. Weber doesn’t share your opinion. And until he does, we’ll be rotating out every six hours.”

“Will you be watching us sleep, too?”

“I could get used to handsome men watching me sleep,” my mother said.

“Mom!”

“I’m getting drinks! Do you want anything, Tiffany?”

The men chuckled as I shook my head. All of this was insane, but a very small part of me was glad to have them there. It was the first time in over a week that my mother and I had been free of the media. I peered over T.J.’s shoulder and took stock of the empty road. The empty sidewalk. The empty curb. And the more I looked at the empty space, the more I became okay with the fact that men would be looming right outside the damn front door.

“Oh no!”

“Mom!?”

A massive thud followed by a deafening crash resounded from the kitchen. I took off on my own two feet and heard T.J. not too far behind. I skidded into the kitchen and saw my mother on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and covered in lemonade.

“Mom!”

“Tiffany,” she said as tears rushed her eyes.

I ran across the glass and knelt by her side. The entire house tilted with my quick movements. I choked down the bile rising up the back of my throat and took my mother’s hand. Her face grimaced with pain and she swatted away as I tried to help her up. She was holding her back and moaning, and her eyes started to flutter closed.

“Put me down. Put me down. Put me down,” she chanted.

“Hello. I need an ambulance at 1284 Meredith Road. Elderly woman, mid sixties. She’s fallen and hurt herself. History of back problems, not sure of any other health conditions.”

“Mom, look at me,” I said.

Her head could barely turn in my direction and I knew that wasn’t good. And the worst part was I felt like I was about to puke on my own mother. Could my body not keep it together for one fucking moment? I smoothed the broken glass away from her body as the guard at the door grabbed a broom. He began to sweep the entire kitchen floor, clearing a path for the paramedics to get to us.

Tears flooded my mother’s face and neck as I cupped her cheek.

“You need to breathe. It’s going to be all right,” I said.

“Something isn’t… something’s not…”

“Ambulance is five minutes out,” T.J. said.

“You hear that, Mom? Five minutes. They’ll come in, we’ll get you to a hospital, and everything is going to be okay from here. You got that?” I asked.

“My… my legs, sweetheart.”

“What is it? What’s wrong with your legs?” I asked.

But the paramedics barreling into the house ripped my attention away from my mother. The pushed me out of the way and began to check her vitals. They hooked her up to an I.V. and I could see the fear in my mother’s eyes. She hated doctors. Hated medicine. Hates hospitals. They lifted her from the floor and only a rolling gurney, and the ear-piercing cry she let out left me breathless. I rushed to her and took her hand, jogging by the rolling bed before I got into the ambulance with her.

“We’ll lockdown the house,” T.J. said. “Morris, get up there.”

I watched the man from the door hop into the ambulance and perch beside me. But I didn’t have the energy to protest. My mother was in too much pain for me to stand around and argue with some sort of personal security I’d never asked for. The ambulance doors shut and it pulled away from our house, and I peeked out the window to see T.J. put his phone to his ear.

I knew who he was calling.

I knew who was on the other end of that line.

But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about Kenneth or about locking down the house. I didn’t care about the mess or the broken glasses. I didn’t care about the media or the spilled lemonade or the massive man who was squished a little too close to me for my liking.

I was worried about my mother.

And as I held back tears of my own, I felt the ambulance roll down the road away from my home. A place that, only a few seconds ago, had finally seemed safe.

What an illusion that had been.