Signed, Yours Truly

Prologue

(Protector's POV)

I saw her walk by the coffee shop two days ago. Her step was filled with life. At once I knew: she was not to be harmed by any living creature.

That night, I followed her home, I know, I know, that's labeled as stalking but I can't show her myself! She would be too horrified and then I would never see her again. To be honest, it was a very impromptu decision. If by any chance you ever read this, dear Claire, forgive my hasty actions

"Agh!" I banged my fist on the table. This would never do. I crumpled the page and tossed it across the room. I wasn't one to pour my thoughts out on paper only to be read by someone else. I would rather straight up tell them to their face. The trait has gotten me in trouble many times, but I haven't changed. Many people need to be told flat out.

I sighed, standing up and stretching my stiff joints. After last night I collapsed in a chair and didn't get up again until around 10 o' clock this morning. Last night wasn't my excursion after Claire, I ran into some rough characters too drunk to walk away from a fight. I took two down but I was outnumbered. Running across the roofs of the city, I escaped them. Thank goodness I used a backstreet.

Today....I don't know what I should do today. I dropped out of college years ago, faked my death and found the place I live in now. An old abandoned factory that the city haven't torn down yet, I seriously doubt they ever will too, the people say its historic or something sentimental like that. Hogwash.

My fingers skimmed over her picture once more, her strawberry blonde hair, her bright grey eyes. All perfect, I knew I had to be the one to protect her. She was small, only 5'1", and very petite. If anybody were to attack her, she would be no match for any man. Thats why I was there. At 6'5" she had no need to worry.

I decided I would try and get to know one of her friends, Riley, a girl of 20 and very emo. She would tell me her friends timing, thats what I needed to make sure I could get to her in time.

Placing a note for my twin brother on the door, I chuckled grimly. He was the one who got all the friends, all the fame and prosperity from people. Yes, he was quite fun, but sometimes a little bit of a wimp. Me on the other hand, a stalker, a hit-man. Someone people loathed. Alright, yes, I did do that myself but can I help it I was left to die in the gutter? My older sister who I never met, found me and hid me in a neighboring house, it was vacant, and took care of me until I could do it myself. Soon she died from cancer and I was left on my own. It was then I decided to throw aside my family and go lone. I was a vagabond for around 15 years, during that time I helped as many people as I could from gangs, false crimes, and really anything else I could weasel past. So what I'm a stalker? I use my skills to help people who can't. And I will make no mistake about this. I protect what is mine.