The next time I woke up, William was standing by my window. I was tucked in my own bed, with the blankets on me. He was staring at the window, looking hard for something, or maybe he was just thinking. When I sat up he turned his head and smiled. “Morning Tavi,” he said, as if we were pals. As if he didn’t just starve me, locked me away in a room, and threw away the key.
We were not pals. We were nothing. I glared at him.
“How did you sleep?” he said walking over and sitting on my bed causing me to rise up. I looked to him. He tried to reach out and touch my hair, but I backed away. He became embarrassed as this happened. “I wanted to talk about what happened.”
The words were trapped in a cage deep in my throat. There was nothing to say to him.
“Food is precious. Like a young child, it should be taken care of. And when I saw all the food smashed against the wall and floor, it sort of angered me. You know? I didn’t want to punish and starve you. But now you know that we need that food. I had to drive down the mountain and into the closest town to get some food-”
“Town! How far away?”
He smiled and went on as if he didn’t hear me. “I will also show you how to grow your own food. We have a greenhouse. It’s nice in the winter-”
“William!” I yelled. He didn’t like what I said. He didn’t want me to have a voice. He needed me to be quiet. “What town are you talking about? Tell me.”
He just shook his head, “It’s not that close.”
“How far away am I?” He didn’t change his emotion. His face was cold. “William, tell me. Please. I just want to know.”
He got up from the bed and went back over to the window. “I love the snow. Don’t you?”
No, I did not love the snow. It was the worst thing in the world. “No!”
“The first time we met, it was snowing, and you looked so beautiful.”
I stared at the wall. I couldn’t face him. How could I meet his eyes? “The . . . the first time?”
“Yeah, you were a little kid. You’re growing into a beautiful young lady.”
I almost snapped my neck to look at him. He was staring at me, with almost lost eyes. I felt like screaming, but I just yelled, “Kid! You’ve been stalking me since I was a kid? I’m fourteen now! When the hell did you start stalking me?”
“Protecting,” he snapped.
“Protecting?”
“Right . . . I never stalked you, I was protecting you,” he told me.
I stared at him for a second, and then looked away. I tried to think of the next words I could say to him. He was crazy if that was what he thought it was. I couldn’t call him a nutcase, because I know the power of his fist. I thought about my next words very carefully. I looked back and asked, “Protecting me from what?”
“The world,” he said. He paused for a moment, and then went on, “The bad people that could hurt you have hurt you. I just needed to take you somewhere where you would be safe, where you could grow and be free . . . Away from the acid snowflakes.”
When he said ‘be free’, I almost laughed. “Of course the world is a terrible place, William. There are terrible people who do hurt others, but the thing is, that there are also so many nice people, good people.”
It seemed as if his eyes were felt with anger. He said, “Well, where are these good people? How come I’ve never met them?”
“If you can’t find a good person, then be a good person,” I snapped. He stared at me for the longest time, and then looked outside the window. I wondered if he was thinking of my words, if he gave it any thought at all. He didn’t speak for a while. I watched him as he was looking outside. He was big, so hairy. From a far, he could have been mistaken as a small bear. Maybe he was Bigfoot.
He broke the silences. “I saw you with your parents a lot, with your friends, sometimes just by yourself. When you were ten though, I knew I had to protect you, when you were walking toward your house after a piano practice. Do you remember?”
“No,” I sighed. I remember piano practice as a kid. I hated it so much. With so many practices I had to go to, I didn’t know which time he was talking about. How many times did he watch me walking home?
“God, you don’t remember anything about you. I remember that though. I remember it all. Without me, you would have been dead.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That man pushing you up against the wall, the only reason you had the chance to runaway was because of me.”
It hit me, what he was talking about. I suddenly remembered the time he was talking about. When I looked at him, my face was white, my eyes were cold. My mouth dropped a little. “That . . . that was you?”
“Yes, I saved you from that man. You remember me now?” He straighten his back up, trying to make himself taller.
I knew what he was talking about. I remember the story so well.
It was late one night and the family car was broken for a while. When I was twelve, I had piano lessons in the evenings and would walk home around five that day. I was hungry for dinner so I cut through the ally by the old coffee shop. There was another man walking my way. I had my eyes to the ground, trying not to look at him.
When our paths met, he pushed me against the brick wall and held a gun to my stomach. He looked me in the eyes and then he kissed me. I wasn’t sure how old he was, but he was dirty and nasty and he smelled. I remembered it.
Not my idea of a first kiss. I don’t think that was anyone’s idea of a first kiss. Wasn’t it supposed to be like those teen movies? Magical and not terrifying? I tried to kick him; instead he pushed the gun harder to my stomach. I was so scared. I tried screaming, but his dirty hand covered my mouth. The taste left a scar on my tongue.
A bigger man attacked the skinny attacker. I had no idea where he came from. He punched the living hell out of the attacker. I was knocked to the ground. I saw blood coming from his face. Blood was going everywhere. The guy that attacked me was bleeding everywhere.
The bigger man screamed at me, “RUN!” and I remember just running after that, far away, and as fast as I could. As I was running, gunshots sounds filled the air, but I kept running. I didn’t dare look back. I didn’t come out of my house for two days.
I never told anyone about that, none of my friends, not my family. I was scared and I wasn’t sure why. I read in the paper the man who attacked me was found in the dumpster dead, with five gunshots to the head. I felt nothing for the attacker. I was glad he was dead. And now I know who killed him.
“You killed him?”
It took him a minute to answer. He slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“You beat him, and shot him five times in the head?”
“You remember how many times I shot him?”
“Can’t forget.”
He stared, “Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Because he attacked me?”
“Yes.”
I paused. “I am not sure if I should thank you or not.”
He seemed to give a smile but didn’t pay attention to my words. “Do you want some lunch?”
I really wanted food, so we got up, and he made us some soup. As I sat there, I wondered if he was truly a bad guy. That man, the dirty man, I remember every detail about him. The smell, the dirt, his touch, William saved me from so much worse that day. I still question though if he was a hero or a bad guy. Maybe just human.
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