Grumpy Tyler

Suzzie's POV

My first suggestion to my foster father was why do I need to be Tyler's caregiver when I could just wait for the right time, pick up my rifle and gun Tyler Skyler down in the pool of his blood without anyone knowing who exactly was behind his death?

Hadn't he done likewise to the only family I had ever known and loved?

Father had explained that he as well needed authentic answers as to why his older brother was killed.

And to get such answers, one needed to be wise about it.

That sounded reasonable - and never would you stop to wonder if I have ever had ill feelings towards Tyler.

His dark gaze was arrogant, which of course would do nothing but only try to prove subsidized power.

To me, he was a dead man - still alive by a trick of luck.

I was taken and used to the methods of stripping identities to fit my agenda, of which I knew that I would definitely have my revenge.

The thought of not having to see dad, mum including Lolia, my younger sister wrenched my heart to pieces.

Tyler Skyler had taken something dear to me, of which I would have him remember and never forget.

I will get into his family, make him see me as someone worthy of his affections while I begin to plot my scheme.

Something pricked inside my chest as I stopped myself short, hugged myself and started towards the house.

I shouldn't forget why I was here. I heard a loud, clattering crash followed by a thud. My feet quickened and I raced towards Tyler's room.

My gaze fell on the stamped envelope under my feet once the door opened, then it shifted towards the polished darkened room.

Dark colours?

Why would this preferably be his taste?

Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the atmosphere and it shifted to the door that led to the bathroom - the wheelchair was close to the door while Tyler's hands were graped around it while he was on the floor.

How had he landed to the floor? I mused pushing my feet to go close to him.

"Get out!" He yelled.

I froze momentarily.

He didn't want me close, but would that deter me?

He possibly wasn't in the best position to see me, but he was struggling probably to get back on his chair.

Fuck it, I mouthed.

"Don't you dare come any closer!" His gaze poked at me.

Ignoring that, I came close. His trousers were loosened down to his thighs, revealing his designer briefs.

He fumed, throwing a shove at me to nudge me away. I dodged, threw a quick glance at the interior part of the toilet.

Was he about to poo on himself?

But he got himself in this mess, why couldn't he call me? Was he truly embarrassed of my presence as a woman?

Or maybe, I was wrong.

I might just be jumping into conclusions, why not just ask him about it?

"Do you need help with _,"

"I fucking didn't ask you to come in. Now, leave." He ordered.

Nah, the "F" word. He was used to being this damn rude.

Silence.

He was so used to giving the rules that he had forgotten he was in dire need of a help - urgently.

His stomach growled, and he winced, clutching his stomach.

"That does not look like it want me out," my voice was calm.

I stooped before him, meeting his gaze. "Please, let me help you up. I'm only doing my job."

I hoped that did the trick ....

It didn't. Instead, his eyes blazed fiercely like fire in a furnace.

Another rumbling and he groaned - pushing his hands to the chair for a support.

One of his legs breathed life, taking the rise for a stand. But he fell back abruptly, hitting his head hard on the door.

"God damnit, I need to use the loo," he muttered as another rumbling wrench from him.

A fart escaped him.

He froze momentarily, steering his gaze away from me.

My hands stretched out towards his exposed briefs.

That should be the first, then we could concentrate on placing him on the seat of the water closet.

"You probably might not like this, Mr Skyler. I understand you're much concerned about my presence here than your need of using the restroom. If it were possible, I would find another alternative.." I explained to him.

He shot me a gnarl.

I expected another remark from him, but instead heard a fart as his response.

Taking that as a reply, my hands reached out and tugged his briefs downwards.

His eyes bulged instantly at my act.

His flaccid dick dangled between his legs, and he suddenly wrenched his eyes at me.

Our gaze met and held for a split second.

I grabbed his arm and shoved it over my shoulder, picked him up and guided him towards the water closet.

He wouldn't even look at me. He had his head slightly bent while a hand partially covered his face.

"I could return if you need help washing_"

"I can wash my butt myself," his voice was heavy as he interrupted me.

"Okay, okay, I'll just be outside then," I tried a bright smile.

His dark eyes peered up at me and he swore under his breath - throwing his face away.

As I left I couldn't help erase the smile that sketched across my face.

Tyler certainly had a way of not making his concerns known.

Proud as he was, he was cute acting like he never needed any help.

I paced around his room, noting the view from his window. He must have seen me while I'd raced across the field.

My eyes skated to the shelf of books in the left corner.

Such a lonely world, I mused to myself.

Maybe, I should push him to go out more often.

When was the last time he came out of his house after the accident?

I could tell from the tone of his voice, he certainly didn't want me here - or anyone for that matter.

My eyes stumbled on the rumpled envelope, and I started towards it, picked it and stripped it bare of its content.