9• The Protecter

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DRAKE

"Are you crying?" I ask as soon as I spy Vanessa's light brown skin and how it is stained with salty tears.

"Sorry that I'm a few minutes late." She responds, her brown eyes darting away from mine. "But hey, it's less time you have to spend with me."

I say nothing in return as Vanessa drops her duffel bag against the wall. She sifts through it with her smooth hands until she pulls out a water bottle. She tips it back, sealing the cap before turning to me again.

"Warm up lap." I tell her, and she takes off before more words can be said. As I watch her jog around the length of the gym, I shake my head. Seeing her show up with tears in her eyes just makes me disgusted.

Mine and my team's job is to follow orders and make sure the bad guys don't win. We can't have this woman ruin our routine and our success rate. I mean, I feel a little sorry for her for getting mixed up in all of this, but once she went home, she should've stayed there.

She doesn't belong here. She doesn't belong in this gym or with my team. She should be at home doing whatever the hell she does there.

When she stops running her lap, I grunt. "Go ahead and do four more laps. Then, we'll start."

Her pretty caramel eyes narrow as she hesitates, but then she starts jogging again. She's probably running with both her fists pointing up the middle finger underneath the long sleeved shirt she wears, but I don't care.

I protect the people I love from outsiders, even though not all the people I love have protected me from outsiders.

Like my parents. My mother and father died when I was seven. It was New Year's Eve, and the babysitter picked up the home phone at our house to hear the news that a drunk driver had crashed into my parents—T-boned them. My mother died on impact, my father dying after his lungs filled up with blood from an internal injury.

I didn't hear all of that news from my babysitter. No, my babysitter turned to me and told me to get some rest. She didn't know how to tell me that my parents were never coming home, and she didn't have to. When I woke up on January 1st, the cops were at my house with a lady who I had never recognized before.

They were the ones who told me the news. They tried to put me down gently, but I had anger issues, so I immediately lashed out, breaking a nearby vase.

The cops held me down as I screamed and wept for my parents. Thinking back now, it was probably hard for all of them to watch. The pain was too agonizing to keep inside. At the time, I felt like all of my fingers and toes were about to burn off. My organs all felt like they were going to burst, especially my heart. My heart was weighing me down as it rammed hard against my chest, every beat sending pain rippling throughout my veins.

I wanted to die then. But, I didn't. The cops took me in, told me that the lady I didn't recognize was going to take care of me. They informed me that I had to live with a bunch of other kids in a house. I didn't understand then, but I didn't have any family who could take me in after my parents died. My mom had a sister, but she was in the army and was always travelling. She couldn't take me in. My father's dad was alive, but he sadly had dementia.

In other words, I was on my own.

I had never lived with so many other people, yet I never felt so alone.

That was until I had gotten close to my roommate, Brian. We became great friends as we grew older, and when I was fifteen, I realized I loved Brian. I loved him as more than a friend.

I never realized I was gay until then. I didn't notice in my fifteen years that I never even came close to liking a girl or the way girls looked. I just wasn't attracted to them, and I didn't realize it until I fell in love with Brian.

Brian was a beautiful human with a brilliant brain. He was a bit egotistical, but that was inevitable with his genius smarts. I adored the random facts that he liked spouting off at any time in the day.

Brian was the only person at the foster home who took me under his wing. He was the only one who could deal with my anger issues and who could listen to me weep some nights when I missed my parents. He held me when I cried, and he made sure I was okay when I wasn't crying. He was my best friend, and I thought that I was his until he started hanging out with older kids.

There were four guys who were seventeen and were about to leave the foster home. They picked on everyone else and made them feel small, including Brian and me. Somehow, though, they persuaded Brian to join them on their destructive parade.

And that's when I told Brian that he was losing himself. I remember glaring into his blue eyes and saying, "Brian, why are you hanging out with them? Those guys were the ones who made us feel awful when we were already feeling like shit."

"Whatever." Was his response as he raked a hand through his orange hair. "I've finally got a chance to be cool."

"You were way cooler before them." I told him with anger pumping through my veins. "Brian, I know you are smarter than this. You had a lot more friends before they asked you to hang out with them."

"No I didn't." He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You know I don't like it when people lie."

"Yeah, me neither." I grumbled. "Yet, you're lying to yourself. Does Kaylee, Meg, Chet, Mark, and Star not count as friends?"

"They're all younger than we are." Brian's tone changed to a softer one as if he was second-guessing his choices.

"Who gives a fuck?" I groaned as I tossed my hands in the air. We were alone in our bedroom, but my voice bounced off the walls loudly. "They used to look up to you."

Brian's blue eyes narrowed at me. "They should look up to me more than they used to because I'm hanging out with real friends."

My heart felt as if it just got stabbed. My closest friend in the whole world just said that I wasn't a real friend. Bruised and aching, I said, "Brian, you're a jackass. And to think that I even was going to tell you that I am gay."

His body went rigid as I sat on the bed and buried my face in my hands. "What?"

"I said I'm gay, Brian." I informed him with a broken tone. "And I was going to trust you with my secret."

He crossed his arms over his chest, but he looked uncomfortable standing alone in the center of the room. "I didn't know..."

"And guess what?" I looked up to meet his gaze. "I liked you, Brian. You were the boy who cracked my heart open and swept me off my feet."

I cringed and nearly broke when I saw the disgust in his eyes. He took a step back, saying, "Don't say that."

I stood up and reached my arms out. "Please don't look at me like that, like I'm a bad person for saying my feelings."

Brian walked backward until his hand was on the door handle. My legs nearly buckled out from under me. I really thought that sharing my feelings with him would get him to realize that he's missing out on being close to his actually important friends who care about him. I guess I was wrong.

"Well, sorry, Drake, but I don't feel the same way." Brian was halfway out the door.

"Where are you going?" My voice sounded like a child's. "You can't just leave me here."

Brian shut the door then, making me crumble to the floor weakly. I pulled my legs close to my chest and rocked back and forth with tears running down my face. Every ounce of pain inside of me was tearing through me, and the only way to control my anger was to make balls with my fists until my fingernails dug into the palms of my hands.

Blood trailed down my arms as I glanced up to the sky and imagined that my parents were looking down at me from somewhere above. "Mom, dad, I'm sorry. I'll never admit that I'm gay ever again to anyone. I'll pretend to me normal. I'll pretend like I like girls."

Tears blurred my vision until I closed my eyes and willed myself to fall asleep before my bad thoughts got out of control. The thought had crossed my mind about a pair of scissors that I had tucked away in my desk's drawer. I could've easily slit my wrists and let the pain out once and for all. But, I forced myself to sleep so that I wouldn't do anything crazy stupid.

In the middle of the night, though, I woke up to a hand covering my mouth and strong arms wrapping around my body. I tried to scream into the darkness, but as soon as I heard someone laugh, I realized it was the older boys.

They lifted me up using teamwork. Two people had my arms, one had my legs, and one kept me quiet as they dragged me out of my room and down the hallway. I kicked and swung my arms, but nothing helped me wriggle out of their grasp.

They took me outside and into the barn that the foster house owned on its property. In the light, I could see that all four boys wore wide grins and wild looks in their eyes. Terror shredded my heart.

They dropped me onto the ground, the breath leaving my body in an instant. Black dots scattered in my vision, and I wheezed as I tried to gain back my sanity. All the boys laughed, and one said, "Now what did you say, Brian? You said this kid admitted that he is gay?"

I blinked away the dots until I spotted Brian cowering meters away at the barn's door. He looked scared himself as he nodded in response.

Anger immediately flooded over my body. "Brian, what the fuck? I trusted you!"

Brian glanced away from my furious eyes. One of the older boys--the most annoying one who owned brown eyes and long blonde hair--said, "We can't have a gay boy at our foster home, now can we?"

The other three jackasses nodded as I scrambled to my feet. Brian said, "What're you going to do to him?"

"I'm going to knock the gay out of him." The oldest boy said. He had a head of brown, buzz-cut hair and evil eyes that looked a black color to me.

I didn't have enough time to think before he surged forward and punched me in the gut. My body immediately convulsed, my upper half bowing over. Seconds later, I got kneed in the face as the room started spinning around me.

"That's enough." Brian said quietly as if he was a fucking mouse.

Blood gushed from my nose as I stood up straight. I wiped it away with the back of my hand, one of the boys scrunching his face in disgust.

I was never a wuss. I always stood up for myself, and even though the four guys were definitely terrifying, I knew I had a good punch myself. My abs screamed at me in pain and my nose was probably broken, but I said, "You four douches are going to get what's coming to you."

"Speaking of coming..." One laughed hysterically. "You're a fag who deserves this beating."

I remembered my vision going red then. That always happened whenever my anger built up to a point that was uncontrollable, but I used the adrenaline surging through me to my advantage.

As the two older guys came at me, I ducked under their swings and then stood up to punch one in the face. The guy's head immediately snapped back, and he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

The other three guys gazed down at their friend as if he had just died. They looked horrified, but that fueled their anger. Too bad for them that it didn't match mine.

The other older one punched me in the gut, but I quickly retaliated and punched him twice in his ribs. On the second punch, I heard a sickening crunch and felt the cracking of one of his ribs.

He fell to the floor, whining like a four year old. He cried out in pain, and the other two bullies were so shook up that they stepped back; however, they both were jackasses and have given out a million punches, so I thought they deserved a few themselves.

I punched the first boy twice, knocking out one of his teeth, and I kneed the other guy's crotch. Both of them dropped to the floor, one searching for his broken tooth and the other one gripping his crotch like it was about to fall off.

I unclenched my knuckles and charged over to where Brian stood in the corner. His eyes were as wide as saucers and his jaw was dropped as if he was the little boy off of the Incredibles who witnessed Mr. Incredible pick up his vehicle. He put his hands up to shield his face, but all I did was grab handfuls of his shirt and shook him.

"You're an asshole Brian. You're a class A-asshole." I got really close to his face and looked him in his scared eyes. "I trusted you, and you broke my fucking heart. I hope you rot with your fake friends."

I exited the place then, leaving him to look after the four cry babies who still lied on the floor. I went right to my room and slammed the door, locking it behind me. I buried myself in the covers so that the only thing I could see was darkness.

And then I debated grabbing the scissors from the drawer.

For hours.

Until I realized that I wasn't going to be that weak. I wasn't going to let those bullies win. I was going to grow up and become successful. I was going to be better than they ever were.

I smiled when I fell asleep.

And in the morning, cops were at the foster home. They put me in cuffs and said they'd have to take me somewhere new because of what I had done, but before we left the foster home, a man showed up in a suit and tie and told the cops that he was going to take me off their hands.

We were outside in the morning light, standing beside the cop car meant to whisk me away. Everyone in the foster home was watching me through the windows, and I could sense the tension in the air.

The man in the suit and tie was black and tall. He was a little intimidating, and I could tell the cops were slightly weary when he showed up out of nowhere in a black sedan.

"You're Drake Reese, right?" The man directed the question to me as his brown eyes traced the features of my face.

I nodded once, and the cops shifted their weight. The older cop narrowed his eyes and said, "And who do you think you are?"

"Doesn't matter." The man pulled out a paper from inside his suit and handed it over to the older cop.

The man read the paper, and after each line he read, his expression would become more surprised, his eyes widening. He said nothing as he handed the paper back over.

The man in the suit took the paper and gestured toward the car. "Drake, go ahead and get in the passenger seat, would you?"

I lifted my hands to the younger cop as the older cop instructed him to unlock the handcuffs. As soon as they were off, I moved to the black sedan and slid into the passenger seat.

I didn't know why, but I trusted this guy right off the bat. Or maybe I didn't trust him but didn't want to go with the cops. Maybe I just didn't care.

When the man got into the driver side, he glanced at me and said, "Drake, I'm Jerome. It's nice to meet you."

"So, did you bail me out or something?" I had asked, pretending like it was no big deal and pretending that I didn't care.

"Technically, no. I'm your get-out-of-jail-free card." He had told me. "You don't have to go to any more foster homes if you don't want to. You can come with me."

"Why?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I heard you beat up four older kids with ease." The man said smoothly. When I nodded in confirmation, he continued. "You have a certain skill set I'm interested in, if you're interested in perfecting it."

"Beating up people?" I chuckled then.

Jerome smiled back. "Well, I work for an organization that I think will find your strength and talent useful. There's a lot of uses in being able to defend oneself."

"I'm not getting into anything dirty, am I?" My next question hung in the air.

"No. I'm with the CIA, kid." He told me, astonishing me into silence. He put the car into drive and pressed on the gas, a confident smirk forming his lips. "And now you are, too."

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