The Protector

III

The streetlights pass by in a blur as we fly down the desolate road at rapid speed. A content hum surrounds the town from a lack of activity and excitement. The majority of occupants probably went to bed hours ago. The stragglers are out having a good time, filling up the few clubs scattered around our city.

Maybe I hit my head without realising. Everything I saw could just be a concussion, but when have I ever hit my head hard enough for that to happen? I once smacked the back of my skull on concrete after falling off of a slope at the skatepark; I didn't even bleed.

Or maybe I'm having a mental break. That's genuinely possible. I'm not the most sane person on Earth. I've been stressed all week over today, I've bitten through most of my nails from the anxiety. My hair has been falling out too, though that could be due to the bleaching.

"Are you awake?" A stony voice asks from beside me.

I was so far into my own world that I didn't even notice the engine shutting off. We've pulled up outside my house, the heating already cooling off.

"What do you think?" I snap. I still haven't forgiven him and probably won't for a while, I'm good at holding grudges.

"Whatever. Do you need help getting inside?" Such a gentleman.

"I'm good. What time is it?" I ask, removing my seatbelt.

"Just past one."

The two of us glance out of my window, noticing that all the lights are off. A peaceful blanket lays over the cosy building that holds so much pain. It's easy to assume that Mum has been in bed for the last three or four hours. She knows I'm smart enough to get home safely. She raised me to be independent and able to protect myself no matter what state I'm in.

"Thanks for the lift. I'll see you later."

I climb out of the car, waving him off when he starts undoing his seatbelt as though to come help me. I don't need his assistance when I'm one comment away from breaking his nose.

Lately, it's like he's trying to get on my nerves. Just the other day he asked to hang out and I said I was busy, I was helping my Mum clean the house for her annual spring clean. He started saying things about being controlled by my mother and being too needy with her. I almost hit him, and he knew it. So he backed off.

He doesn't pull away until I gently close the door behind me. The sound of his engine rumbling down the road lifts a weight from my shoulders.

I am well aware of the fact that he's encouraging me to be more independent now that I'm an adult. I know I dote on my mother but she's precious to me. I would break the planet in two just to make her smile. I don't plan to move out until I know she wants me to because there is no one else at home, and she doesn't have many friends. I don't want her to be lonely.

However, Zayn's attentiveness is rather infuriating when I'm trying to figure out how I feel about him. I don't have the heart to break up with him. He's always trying to win me over and listens to what I want to do. I just can't seem to give my heart to him.

He transferred to our school two years ago, just in time for the end of eleventh year. Every single girl in the building practically pounced him. Even though we were all supposed to be focusing on the upcoming exams, they had other priorities while I was figuring out the quickest route to the pub.

All of the beefy blokes that played rugby or football for fun demanded he hang out with them. They would also try to hook him up with the 'pretty babes' as I heard them say. I always found the whole concept repulsive; the way women were only perceived as attractive when they'd starve themselves while caking over their natural beauty with unnecessary layers of filth.