Page 16 of Stained Protector

I was having fun.

Basking in the sun and replenishing fresh air in my lungs, I tug her down another street for breakfast. She gets lightheaded without it, and she’ll power through the dizziness when she’s too lazy for food.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” she questions, shaking our hands in emphasis. “What if that man sees us and just snaps? ‘Destroy what you can’t have’ kind of thing?”

Some wild people don’t follow the script for crimes. This assailant would either go after Anya again or switch focus to her sister. Anya’s features overlap more with the missing women, so I’m betting on her.

It was impossible to miss the anger and insanity in the man’s eyes when he held Anya by the hair. His filthy, undeserving hand. He better hope I don’t catch him before the hostile storm inside me blows over.

“I’m strong enough to protect you.”

The blue uniform has a standard physical requirement, and the daily crime-fighting required me to maintain the dexterity and strength I had from childhood self-preservation.

I protect my own back.

“I’m worried about you,” she whispers. “I don’t want you to get hurt. He’s after me, and I can’t forgive myself if—”

“There is nothing to forgive,” I interject as the ardor in her eyes brands my back. “I’m doing this voluntarily. I know the risks, but I want to do it.”

“Why?”

I mull over the question. The voices mock her, as expected and rather rude, yet they don’t offer torturous solutions.

A change of heart? Earth can end tomorrow, and they’ll pass a comment on world domination. This stupid power-play they do, it’s imaginative and often witty.

She doesn’t press the answer, maybe out of potential disappointment in the response. I put the answer in a box, set it to a corner of my brain, and wait for the right time.

“What do you want for breakfast?” I discernibly change the subject.

An automated welcome message sputters as the sliding door opens while hearty scents and chattering patrons control the atmosphere.

She orders her usual after the waitress seats us. I notice Anya chooses the safest choice from the menu, not sparing a glance at the enticing items in multicolored words. The dishes are extravagant and eye catching since they cater to indecisive people.

It’s a shame I’m not a safe choice, yet I’m the only haven she can seek refuge in.

Anya peers up from the menu and grins prettily.

Keep smiling; she’s beautiful with it.

Let’s try tears next time.

Chapter Five

Anya

My sister and her twelve-pound rebellious Manx cat are relocating to a city near Phoenix. It was a decision that had been brought up months ago, so the news wasn’t as shocking.

She deserves it, the recognition and a fresh start. Our old city, filled with cursed memories and nasty fights, is keeping her from being healthy. After months and years of steering her in the right direction, away from the selfish boys and toxic men, she recognized the cycle with the eighth therapist.

This is the one, she had said.We’re connecting.

I should’ve listened to the disparaging feeling in my stomach, but I was worried about her choking on a crispy samosa on a boring Wednesday.

I found out about the unethical relationship between them when she came home after a session with one false eyelash hanging by a string of glue and tear-streaked foundation. They were caught making out in his office after hours by his husband, and the cops were nearly called for the subsequent ruckus.

I learned to not scold, reason, or comfort her. She sees the atrocious relationships and terrible men as a part of her destiny, not a mistake.

If they are men and have an emotional spark with her, she’ll pretend morals and integrity are accessories.

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