Page 2 of Protector

My favourite book is Peter Pan and I am always Wendy, flying away with Peter, finding the Lost Boys and trying to kill Captain Hook.

My daddy reminds me of Captain Hook. But I would never say that to anybody. Not even King and Dax.

King would probably just roll his eyes. But he doesn’t understand.

My daddy likes King. He gets to do whatever he wants. He gets to meet new people who come to our home. He gets to go to a fancy school outside the mansion nearly every day.

He doesn’t get locked away in his room, not allowed to make any friends.

There’s a bang on the door, and I jump up, wiggling the handle again.

“I can’t open it, I’m stuck,” I cry slightly, puffing with all my might to get the door open.

Then I hear a jingle on the other side, and a key sliding into the lock, so I step back, fumbling over my feet. But I keep stepping back until I bump against my bed at the back of the room.

My daddy stands in the doorway, his belly sticking out over his belt, but still looking every bit threatening and scary in his dark suit and blank stare.

It’s his smile that scares me the most, though. My daddy doesn’t have a nice smile; he has an evil smile like Captain Hook. I know when daddy is smiling, it’s not because he is happy, it’s almost always the opposite.

I don’t say anything, terrified to speak in case I say something wrong. I always say something wrong. Even though I’ve been learning lots of new words recently, and I can read some books all on my own now. Maria is really proud of me.

Daddy scoffs, looking at my eyes that are starting to water.

“You look just like your mother.”

He tells me that all the time, but it never seems like a good thing. He’s always cross or angry about it.

But I never respond.

I don’t remember my mummy. I was only three when she died. That was really little. And now I’m six and can’t remember her much anymore.

I just remember the photos I have seen.

King has always said that it’s a good thing I look like her and that he looks like mummy too and Daddy is just angry that we are not ugly like him. It always makes me laugh in the end.

Everything about my daddy is ugly. But I still love him. Even if he is scary.

He’s my daddy, after all.

He walks away, leaving the doorway open, and that must mean all of his guests are gone. I’m surprised it was him who came to open it for me. Normally, it’s Maria.

I tiptoe out of my room and run down to the gardens, ready to hide for the rest of the day.

After being outside, my knees are muddy, my hair is askew, and there’s a cut on my arm from where I scraped it on a tree branch. I run back to the house, ready to eat something because I’m really hungry now, when I see King and my daddy in the window of the big office, the one I have been told over and over again, I am never allowed in.

I didn’t know King was allowed in there now, though.

Dax comes up behind me and rests his arm over my shoulders.

“Things are changing, Bonnie. You just keep yourself to yourself, okay?”

I don’t understand what he’s mumbling about, but I nod anyway. Dax and King are always right. When they tell me to believe something, I do. When they tell me to listen to them, I do. They are the only two boys in the whole wide world I trust.

They look after me.

Unlike Daddy.

“Come on, go and get cleaned up,” he finishes, looking me up and down, and I run into the house. I stop in the doorway and call out Dax’s name before I make my way upstairs. He’s still watching the window, but turns his head to look at me.

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