The Protector

FIVE

My father, President Michael Andrews, was not a small man by any means. He was easily 6'2", but his professionally confident demeanor made him appear a thousand feet tall. His black suit was tailored tight across his wide shoulders and his smooth defined jawline and sharp gray eyes demanded respect. The way his entourage of five Protector sycophants gazed at him with unabashed admiration, made it obvious he was regarded like a god in this place. I rolled my own gray eyes as I crossed one long pale leg behind the other and twirled my slim fingers around my black hair. 

I wished, at that moment, I had a large fragrant piece of bright pink bubble gum in my mouth to chomp on and complete my overall air of disinterest. I didn't care how well respected he was in this prison, he had offered me absolutely nothing my entire life to garner even a shred of understanding or admiration on my end. Between abandoning us and watching my mom struggle to make ends meet my entire life, I felt as though he never truly cared about either one of us. He also appeared completely unaffected by my posture or my outfit.

"I'm glad to see you made it. Regardless of your entirely inappropriate entrance..." his eyes flicked towards the elevator briefly and I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. "You will, however, be required to change into your new uniform. I had your room stocked with all the other approved outfits to wear while in The Academy. Unfortunately, you are not permitted to have this much self-expression, until you have graduated from the program," he said pointedly, motioning to my current ensemble: a short black velvet skirt, scuffed black combat boots, and black and white block lettered shirt that read Not Today Satan. It was definitely one of my personal favorites, purchased from a used clothing shop on 23rd street in Portland. I had eagerly anticipated wearing the shirt for this exact moment.

"Thank you, sir." I bowed sarcastically, enjoying the way the other Academy students stared at me as my skirt rode up dangerously high, exposing my black lacy underwear. My father's ring twitched again, and I smirked and scrolled through my phone as I followed a female member of his entourage from the cafeteria and over to the double elevator doors. She pushed the button, illuminating a deep red, and I glanced up from my phone long enough to recognize my chaperone. I would never forget those one of a kind cold, lifeless dark brown eyes.

"Hello, my dear." Helen Isaacs, Kyler's mother, smiled warmly, but I suppressed the shiver that threatened my spine. "I hope your summer was relaxing and spent preparing for your time here at The Academy." I smiled thinly, nodding my head, and hoped she couldn't somehow hear my heart beat quicken by her presence. I never fully trusted Helen. It was a combination of her ever present cold demeanor, constant surveillance on Protectors, and the way she could touch me and painfully dig around in my memories. "I'm eagerly anticipating pulling your Protector's microchip and observing all of your... preparation this summer," she said, as if on cue, smiling again. Venomous. "Protection policy of course." 

"Of course," I mumbled and looked away, trying to ignore the way her black eyes studied me as we waited for the elevator. The thought of her seeing my most intimate memories from this summer with Julian made me want to crawl right out of my skin. I had once been in love with her own son. I thought Kyler was my everything until he wasn't anymore. Until he was just gone. I tried to ignore the way the sorrow clawed at my throat. I missed him.

The elevator doors pinged open and we both stepped inside, no words exchanged as the carriage rose. The silence was comforting until Helen suddenly turned and grabbed my hand, like in a vise. My mind reeled sideways and my body slammed against the cold steel wall. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose, begging her not to take over. Apparently, I was not the only one who became stronger this summer. The digging into my skin tripled in discomfort from the last time this happened in my college bedroom. I begged my mind, "Please, not another vision, not now, not while she's touching me." Instead, my mind recalled the first time I was in this elevator, with Helen, as we rode up to see my father. I could still feel the way the wires in my mouth tasted like cold copper, a mix of metal and blood.

I closed my eyes and pushed my mind out, away from myself, like I did all those nights as I searched for Kyler at the park. I rationalized that if I was not thinking about anything, if I was not even inside my own body, there was nothing for her to see. As I left my own subconscious behind, I became part of something else, part of something powerful, something that buzzed dark around the edges. I felt my eyes sizzle as I opened them and ripped my hand away, the force knocking Helen harshly against the opposing wall. The impact whipped her blonde hair sideways and created a vast crater in the metal and caused the elevator to shake violently. Helen smiled undeterred, popping her own shoulder back into the socket beneath her creme blazer.

"Good, Perry. I see you have made some progress this summer," she said, her eyes dancing. Impressed? "Now, if you will follow me." The elevator came to a jolting stop on the 33rd floor, and when the doors opened, Helen exited the elevator, composed once again. I stood frozen in time, gaping at the cavernous dent her shoulder had created in the steel wall. A dent I somehow caused, entirely with my mind.