Whilst Dawson headed into town to buy groceries, I unpacked my suitcase, placing the appropriate clothing into the wooden drawers provided. I organised my bathroom items into the one of many en-suites and made my way downstairs, standing on the deck overlooking the lake. I pulled my phone from my pocket and glanced down, little to no signal available. I wasn't sure if that were a good thing, or a bad thing.

Inhaling deeply the fresh air through my lungs, I sat myself down on the grey wicker couch outside, leaning my head back with my eyes closed to the sky. I could feel myself settle, I could feel myself breathe slower, I was exhausted, I needed sleep. I tried to think about anything other than the reason I was at Dawson's holiday home, I tried to ignore the throbbing of my head, but it was hard.

With rigid breathing I stood frozen in the centre of the grocery store. I could see Tony arguing with the two masked men, his tone sharp and angry as he tried to deter them from his shop. He was strong, he was brave, even when the gun came out, pointing in his direction.

I cringed and tried to look away, but I couldn't.

I knew what came next, and again, I could do nothing.

Waiting, watching for the moment the masked man pulled the trigger, a new noise erupted. This time, my body reacted, flinching when I turned to see the door open, a familiar but unexpected body entering the scene.

"Put the weapon down!" Dawson demanded, holding his own gun out front, directed at the two men who spun to face him just as quickly

They would not comply, they would not surrender, and in an instant, gunfire erupted. Tony fell to the floor, as did one of the masked men, blood exploding from the multiple chest wounds, and then it was Dawson, a bullet hitting him directly in the centre of his chest, crumpling him to the ground. I screamed, my hands over my mouth as I watched blood escape his mouth. He was dying, just as Tony had.

"Jasmine!" My name was called, my shoulders shaking "Jasmine wake up!" I recognised the voice

Suddenly the scene in front of my eyes changed, ripping away when my vision snapped to Dawson now leaning directly in front of me, hands on my shoulders, his eyes firmly on mine

"Hey, hey" He spoke softly "You're okay, you're okay, it was just a dream" He told me, the hold his gaze took on mine unwavering

I tried to control my breathing, my body upright and tense, my muscles tightened.

As the seconds passed, I gained control enough for Dawson to let me go, moving back to the table in front of me, sitting on the edge. He watched me carefully, as though my body would break like glass and shatter on the floor.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked

I shook my head, definitely not.

"Has this been happening a lot since the shooting?"

I wanted to lie, tell him I was fine, but I couldn't, what would be the point? If every time I slept, every night I stayed in his home, I would have nightmares, he would be there to see them, babysitting me like a toddler who dreamt of ghosts and ghouls.

I nodded "Yeah" rubbing my hands over my face

He gave a small sigh, unsure of how to help me, unable to help me

"Tony.." I thought out loud "When are they doing his funeral?"

Dawson hesitated

"I want to go, I need to go.. it might help with.. closure, I don't know, I just, I want to go.." I stumbled all at once

"It's dangerous.." He was going to try and change my mind, and I understood why, but I needed to be there, I needed to say goodbye, properly

He was shaking his head "Jasmine.. these people could be there, watching, they expect you to be there"

"Then come with me, if you think something might happen, you can chaperone, they won't try anything if you're there, or Isaia, I'll ask him to come with me, please" I was now begging

"I'll talk to Isaia and our boss, but I can't make any promises, we can't take unnecessary risks"

It was a start, and if I had to argue with their boss, their superior in charge, then I would. I was determined to see it through, I needed to be there, for Tony, for his family. Most of all, I wanted to say sorry, I wanted to apologise to his family for not being able to do anything, for watching their loved one die in front of me while I stood weak and afraid.

Dawson retreated to the dining room where an array of paperwork sat, a laptop and boxes. His makeshift office while he babysat me. I edged closer and peered over what was scattered on the tabletop. Thick folders, thin folders, envelopes bulging with photographs that I could only imagine would churn my stomach at the sight of. Seeing the amount of cases flooding the space made me realize just how dangerous the seemingly quiet City I'd called home was. How had I been so oblivious to it all? I tried my best not to think too deeply about it.

As thunder began to roll again beneath the thick blanket of clouds, I gave a sigh and moved backwards from the table. I pulled at the sleeves of the baggy sweater I'd quickly thrown on whilst packing. I needed a shower, I needed to wash the scent and the memories of the man that had attacked me off of my skin, out of my hair and clothing.

Dawson had immersed himself at the table with his work, and as he did that, I found the perfect opportunity to remove myself from his space, heading towards the en-suite off my temporary bedroom.

Thankfully, whilst I stood under the generous flow of water in the generously sized shower, my brain had decided not to torture me further with the images of my attackers. Instead, I thought about Tony's funeral service. I wanted to be there, I needed to be there. This wasn't something I could miss, and if I was denied the chance to pay my respects, it would be something that I knew I would regret for the rest of my life. Tony was a friend, he and my father were close, they were my family, and now both of them were gone, I felt truly alone in the world.

Once I'd felt that my skin was clean enough, that I felt not an inch of me was left with even the most minute of blood from the incident less than 24 hours earlier, I changed into a pair of black tights and a baby blue hooded jumper. I sat on the edge of the double bed in the center of the room with my mobile between my fingers. No service. Despite not having someone to call, or text, or vent to about my problems, having absolutely no way to even contact anyone even if I had wanted to, was daunting. I threw the phone against the pillows, groaning, there was no use for it now.

Light rain had now turned into consistent, heavy drops, settling into a soothing and comforting ambience. Sauntering around the bedroom, between looking out the window at the dreary weather and chewing at the skin around my fingernails until they bled, I contemplated how I would spend my time whilst under house arrest. Did I use the time to catch up on sleep? Did I attempt to befriend the man downstairs putting his life on the line for me? How was I supposed to pass the time while waiting for the police to catch two homicide suspects? Just how long was I going to have to be in the home? Relaxing my breathing, I forced myself not to overthink. I picked up one of my many books of interest and made my way downstairs.

The moment I was within sight of Dawson, my muscles tensed, I became uncontrollably on edge. I didn't know how to act around this person. I didn't know this man at all, now here I was trapped in his holiday home with him. I considered trailing back upstairs to the bedroom to read, but even I knew that would be rude. I couldn't ignore him, I couldn't avoid him, he had saved my life, he was putting himself in harms way by protecting me.

Surrendering to the lounge beside the dining set where Dawson sat, I settled into the corner of the couch, tucking my feet up beneath me to retain warmth in my toes. Everything was quiet, the sound of rain prominent as Dawson sat in front of his paperwork and computer screen, and I in front of my Stephen Hawking book. Flicking it open to the center where my makeshift paper bookmark was, I began to read, hoping it would ease my mind and dull my thoughts.

Reading had always been an outlet for me. Dad and I had frequented the library where we would challenge each other by learning something new each week with a new book. As a teenager, I had indulged in the common supernatural teen fictions, but as I got older, the more I became curious about what the real world had to offer. The real world was a beautiful place, or so I had assumed. As I read about all the amazing things in the world, reality seemed to betray the words that had captivated me. Was I living in a different state of universe? My dad became sick, the weather seemed to be becoming more reckless, unpredictable, crime rates were climbing and then.. Tony. Had I done something so unforgivably heinous in a past life to have been dealt the misfortune I had endured? How did I make it right now?

Despite the contradiction I saw between the beauty of life and the destructiveness I had been thrown into, I continued to read. I continued on with dad's tradition and hoped for the best. When I read, it was as though dad was there, with me, beside me, whispering in my ear for me to continue, to not give up.

Engrossed in the pages of my novel, I had zoned out the reality around me, entirely focused on what I was reading in front of me. My body was calm, relaxed, I felt comfortable and safe, so when Dawson's phone loudly began to ring beside him, I naturally jumped, almost throwing the book from my hands. Dawson had quickly, and not surprisingly noticed

"Sorry" He apologized, silencing it before pressing it to his ear

I tried to regain my breathing as I watched him. He stood and angled his face from me, whispering into the phone so I couldn't hear or translate the words he spoke. This instantly told me that he was either talking about me, or the case. Would I be kept in the dark? How much was I going to be told as the case went on? I hated not knowing, even if it was bad.

I looked in between my book, reading the same sentence numerous times, and Dawson, who stood looking out the wide window with his hand on his hip, nodding. Ten minutes later, he had ended the conversation, placing the phone back down on the table.

Without realizing, I caught myself staring in his direction, waiting for him to tell me something I would wish he hadn't. Our eyes connected, even with the distance between us, I knew he had news relevant to my situation

"That was Isaia" He began, moving towards me to sit on the far end of the couch from me "I had spoken to him when I went out about Tony's funeral"

I closed my book with my finger inside as a spacer, leaning forward for his words

"He wasn't keen on it, it took quite a bit of convincing, on my part, and then on his part to our Captain, but.. they've agreed to allow you grieve in the way any normal person should" He told me carefully "The service will be held Wednesday afternoon at the old Castlereigh Church"

I nodded, I knew exactly the one, it was where I would be able to say my goodbye, to find closure

"Police presence will be strong, we don't want a single incident to impact Tony's family and the ceremony. Media will also be there, but we've warned them with serious legal action to keep your identity from the cameras. Isaia and I will be beside you during the entire thing, keeping watch, making sure nothing happens, you do exactly as we ask, no wandering, no arguments"

His eyes were firm on mine, waiting a response as though he was somewhat expecting me to cause a scene, or attempt to run away. Did I come across as someone who would not do as the police would ask of me? His distrust in me to do the right thing was hurtful, but it only made me more determined to prove him all the more wrong. I wanted them to see that what I was doing, was for the better, not the worse.