The Protector

VII

I realise I'm sleeping when impossible images fill my mind. The shapes and patterns come together to make what looks like my Father. He looks exactly how I remember. Greying hair, smile lines, stern but proud.

For most teenage girls, it is likely normal to dream about her parents but I'm not a normal girl and nothing like them. I haven't dreamt of him since I was six. He disappeared one day after going out for a walk when I was three. My brothers and I believed that he didn't want us anymore, and so he decided to leave. Of course Mum tried her best to persuade us otherwise when she heard our thoughts on the matter, Lew broke down crying at bedtime wanting Dad.

She spent hours every night reassuring us that he adored us and wouldn't leave voluntarily, that something may have come up. We never actually trusted her words. No parent just vanishes if they love their kids as much as she claimed. However, with what the boy's did, maybe she was right.

Occasionally I would think about him, especially when I'd had a particularly rough day. He was my superhero. He saved me from treacherous spiders, and the snake-like monster under my bed. I still miss him. I mainly long for him to return when someone chooses to mess with myself or the boy's, the times when words would get to me. He was the one to originally teach me how to deal with bullies.

I guess I miss him more than I realised. The crooked smile he'd only ever show me when I made him laugh. I was the princess, while my brother's were mere peasants. We all knew it.

Everyday I missed the happiness my Mother would radiate after being woken up with a bouquet, or a loving kiss with breakfast in bed. He was the definition of gentleman, he raised the bar for loving your partner.

When I wasn't ruling over my brothers as the Queen to be, he would play pirates with the four of us. He would try stealing our treasure - typically a packet of cookies. He'd fight past the small lads before getting to me. I was the Captain, the almighty. His tickle attacks couldn't defeat me.

I sit back in my subconscious while my mind creates more images of confusion. It isn't unusual for my mind to perplex me, it enjoys leaving me with the most abnormal pictures. It's why I often struggle to sleep due to nightmares.

Like the sketches in The Snowman, a small child gradually becomes more realistic. Freckles and long wavy dark hair. Rosy beige skin with bright pink cheeks behind scattered constellations on her tiny nose. Scuffed denim shorts and a dark green shirt matching her boyish attitude. Scratches up knees and elbows, plus a fresh cut over her nose, covered by a plaster with smiling monkey's printed over it.

She giddily sprints over to him, the phrase 'running circles' couldn't be more accurate in this scene. On her third attempt to sweetly jog around him, he bends down to scoop the small child into his strong arms. He raises her above his head, blowing raspberries into her chubby little belly.

She giggles when thrown into the air, caught carefully when she tumbles back down the world. She yells, excited when young Luke and Jake push past each other as they race to a nearby tree. Luke smashes into the bark first, Jake screeching about cheating. Lewis follows behind, holding tightly to a gorgeous woman's hand.

The smile stretching across his face is as wide as everyone else's, despite Jay's moody pouting hidden within the grin. She soon drops his hand when he tugs away to dive at his older brother's. They catch him, rolling around on the grass for a minute before pinning the baby to attack him with wiggling fingers.

The tot is tossed back into the air, her innocent squeal growing louder the higher she rises. "Be careful! She's only three!" I turn back around, facing the stunning woman. She runs through me, I'm a ghost in my own memory.

She rushes over to our family, checking over the small girl. The child giggles again from the worried touches tickling her sides. "Relax, Darling. Our little Princess is tougher than a Dragon, ain't that right?" He asks the small girl who nods, puffing up her chest.