Pursued

"But I'm better at guns then you!"

Darius stopped cleaning. "You are not 'better at guns' then I am."

"But I am! And plus, you're always driving! I need a gun to protect myself!" I needed a reason to yell at him right then. That seemed like a pretty good reason.

"My job is to protect you, Noelle. Giving you a lethal weapon is not protecting you." Darius set the magazine of the gun down on his bed.

"There's a difference between protecting and sheltering!" I slowed down my speech. I wanted him to respect me, not just let me have a gun because I whined too much. "Giving me a gun is making sure I can take care of myself. Not just babysitting me."

"I don't babysit you. You just don't seem like the kind of person who could handle a gun very well. I don't want you hurting yourself." I could see in Darius's eyes that he meant every word he said. It was insulting. It was humiliating.

But it would be so easy to prove him wrong.

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