My Protector
by Londonboy
My mobile was ringing. It took a few seconds to pull it out of my backpack. I glanced down and saw it was a call from my dad. He never called me. I thought about not answering it, but figured it must be something important.
“Hello, dad. What’s up?”
“Michael. Thank God. Where are you?” He didn’t sound too good.
“I’m walking through the park on my way home and . . .”
“How far are you from your place?” He wasn’t even giving me time to finish my sentences.
“I don’t know. About fifteen minutes, I guess.” I knew I’d be home sooner, but I didn’t want him to know that – in case tonight was going to turn into one of those forced dinners. Those dinners he made me endure just so he got to feel like a good dad, but I suffered the entire time because I knew he really didn’t want to be there.
“Good. Now listen to me Michael – and listen carefully. Go straight home. I mean it. Don’t talk to anyone and don’t stop anywhere.” My dad was beginning to sound a little crazy. “I can’t talk much more – in case, in case they’re listening. Just go straight home. And I’m sending someone over. You’ll know he’s the guy I sent because he’ll know the name of your favorite toy. Remember your favorite toy, Michael?”
Geez, what a stupid question is all I could think at that moment. “Of course I do, dad. It was…” He cut me off.
“Don’t say it Michael. Just go home as fast as you can and remember the toy.” And then he hung up. I had stopped walking by that time and just stood there staring at the phone in my hand. What a bizarre call. I started walking toward the exit out of the park that put me about two blocks from my place. The call pissed me off. That was just like my dad, to not talk to me for over six months and then to call with some crazy order to ‘go straight home.’ Did he think I was in junior high or something? I’m thirty-two years old, for God’s sake. That’s all I could think about as I approached my building. I lived in an old building with six large units. My place was on the top. I called it the penthouse, but it really wasn’t. I hadn’t lived there long, but it was already starting to feel like home. I hadn’t met any of my neighbors, but I knew I would in time. I pulled keys out of my pocket as I took the steps up to the door two at a time. There was a guy carrying two bags of groceries at the top of the stairs.
“Here, allow me.” I moved in front of him to unlock the door and held it open so he could enter.
“Thanks, man.” He said as he entered the lobby area. I glanced at the guy – trying to sneak a look at one of my neighbors. I was hoping he was cute. I walked in behind him.
Everything from that moment on seems like a blur now. I remember not hearing the door shut behind me and watching the guy walk a few steps ahead. I was about to introduce myself when the guy dropped his bags on the floor and then turned around quickly. I was still fumbling with my keys and my backpack so there was nothing I could do to protect myself. The guy reached out, grabbed me by my jacket, pulled me around, and then slammed me up against the wall. He knocked the breath out of my body. I was so stunned that, at first, I didn’t feel the knife pressed against my neck.
I quickly came back to reality and saw the guy’s face for the first time. He was taller than me and had a face that even a mother couldn’t love. It looked like someone had taken a switchblade to it a few times – and then it struck me – someone probably had. The guy was smiling at me and his eyes looked scarier than anything I could ever remember.
“Didn’t listen to the old man, did you. What a shame, pretty boy. You might have lived a little longer.” I closed my eyes in anticipation of feeling the knife slit my throat – if you can actually anticipate something like that. But there was no immediate pain. It went through my mind that a deep cut might be like slamming your fingers in the car door – you don’t feel it right away, but after a few seconds the pain becomes unbearable. A muffled cry made me open my eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for what came next. My attacker was still staring at me, but his face was now full of pain and his upper body was stiff as a board. The hand with the knife was sticking out to the side, no longer by my neck. That’s when I noticed him – the third man in the lobby.
There was this huge guy – about a foot taller than my attacker – standing there. He was basically holding the smaller guy as if he was a rag doll. He had one hand almost completely wrapped around the guy’s neck from behind and his other hand gripped the wrist of the hand with the knife. I could tell the larger man was applying incredible pressure on the smaller guy’s neck and wrist. Suddenly the knife dropped to the floor. The larger guy lifted the other one slightly off the floor with just one hand and then slammed him face first into the wall beside me. I did not look over to see what damage had been done. I was too petrified. And I didn’t know if I was more scared of the large guy or of seeing what the smaller guy’s face now looked like. I had definitely heard something that sounded like bones breaking. I could sense that the smaller guy was out cold and I felt his body slink to the floor beside me. The larger guy’s hand came toward me. I’d love to think of myself as a brave man, but now I know better. My hands went up to cover my face and I slid a little down the wall.
“Please don’t hurt me.” My scream echoed in the lobby.
“Rosebud.” The first thing I noticed was that the voice was powerful and soothing at the same time. The second thing I noticed was that this was the name of my favorite toy as a child – it had been my sled. I let my fingers part slightly and I looked up at the behemoth of a man in front of me. I’ve always been a sucker for two-day stubble, but this guy’s chiseled face was already perfect – the slight beard only made him more dream-like. He didn’t smile. He just looked at me as he grabbed my arm and pulled me so I was standing. I felt his hand wrap completely around my bicep as he easily lifted me. Funny the things we notice when scared shitless.
“Rosebud.” He said it again. I think he thought I was in shock and wanted to bring me out of it.
“My sled.” That’s all I could say and only in a whisper. I finally forced myself to say more. “My father sent you.”
“Yes. Are you okay?”
“I think so.” It was at that moment I turned to look beside me. The first thing I noticed was blood on the wall. I followed the trail of blood down the wall – smeared there as the guy slid unconscious to the floor. When I looked down I was thankful that all I could see was the back of the guy’s head and more blood on the floor. My knees began to give out and I went a little dizzy.