Guardian: Chapter 6

         Mrs. Roberts was hoisting me up to my feet, holding my shoulders to keep me from falling. She smoothed my hair fretfully, her eyes unreadable. Once Shawn had finished with his explanation, I had started shivering. My wet clothes were sticking to my back with icy dampness,  matted hair sticking with uncomfortable wetness to the back of my neck; I hadn’t realized how cold I had become. That was the first time I saw Mrs. Roberts in 'mother-mode'. She literally sprang into action, even though I had been sure she was going to wilt away when Shawn had dragged me back inside the house. She immediately ordered Shawn to get me a sweatshirt or something, and brought me to my feet worriedly.

"You poor thing," she murmured sympathetically, trying to run her hands up and down my shoulders to create friction and warm me.

"I'm surprised you haven’t gone into shock yet," she said, her voice was dark, "It’s a lot to take in."

         I shrugged lightly, my muscles tight. Still shaking, my knees feeling like they were going to give out any second, I managed a weak smile.

"I've got some questions," I admitted.

         Shawn's soft chuckle surprised me and something slipped effortlessly over my shoulders. Mrs. Roberts proceeded to finish Shawn's task and fumbled to get my arms into the sleeves of the sweater, warmth enveloping me. Shawn spun around lightly, wearing a bemused expression behind his mother.

"You can ask all you want on the way home," he explained, "We're walking."

         His Mother turned around bewildered. Her mouth tightened and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You are not dragging this poor girl back out into the cold, Shawn! She's probably traumatized, and you think you can just waltz out of here like nothing happened?" she screeched, her cheeks warming red with anger.

"Lauren's a big girl Mom, I'm sure she'll be fine," Shawn countered.

         I had to smile, the smug glint in Shawn's eyes and the deflated expression his mother wore were pretty funny. Shawn's fingers were on my wrist quicker than Mrs. Roberts could argue again and I was being pulled out of the house. The cold hit me like a brick wall and my chest tightened, my body tensed to brace the chilling temperatures. Once we were off the steps, Shawn started talking.

"You're odd."

         I raised an eyebrow while wrapping my arms around myself. My throat hurt too bad to say anything, but thankfully he continued without my input.

"I just cut your throat open, brought you back to life, and told you that I wasn't human. And here you are, walking casually next to me."

         I tried to clear my throat, it was painful. Purging the icy air from my lungs and screaming had taken a toll on me. I grimaced while trying to find my weak voice.

"Would it appease you if I started running away screaming now?" I asked.

         The boy next to me said nothing; he seemed interested in the slush under his feet more than he was with me. He kept his head bent toward the ground for a while, walking sluggishly down the drenched sidewalk. I felt sick and ragged, the extra weight of the sweatshirt on me felt like a thousand pounds. Surprisingly, my feet kept going and I found myself being able to keep up with his brisk pace.

"So, am I allowed to ask questions yet?" I asked.

         Once I got a nod from him, I racked my brain for the most prominent questions. Twisting my lips to the side and swinging my arms around my shoulders I came up with one.

"Are your parents angels?"

         He snorted, but still his eyes didn’t leave the grey sidewalk below him.

"No, I was reborn to human partners. Next question."

         I furrowed my brow lightly. When he was explaining his story to me, I had so many questions, and now that he was willingly going under interrogation I could think of anything. I bit the side of my lip as if it would help me think, and hugged myself tighter.

"You said if the human dies, the guardian does. So, what happens if the guardian dies first?"

"The human has to defend for themselves, I guess," Shawn said; his answer had been quick, almost like he'd been expecting the question.

         Familiar houses started to pass us, their dreary windows caked with dulled snow and grimy ice. If I had any energy left I would have suggested a run. I had never wanted to see my bed more in my life. The thought of going home -safe -being able to hug my parents and tell them I loved them was an overwhelming need suddenly.

"Do you rape little children?"

         At this, he stopped and his head snapped to the side. His lips curved downwards, a light wind ruffling a few whisks of pale hair at the corners of his mouth.

"Was that a serious question?"

         I shrugged before lifting numb fingers up to my cheek and brushing back a few unruly strands from my face.

"Answer it," I retorted.

         Smoothly, he popped his shoulders back and continued walking. He stuffed his long hands into his pockets and a sly smile ran over his lips. I tried to get my legs working again and caught up to him, struggling to read his expression.

"All the time," he murmured to me.

         I rolled my eyes and then pressed my lips tightly together.

"So –How'd your parents find out that you weren't entirely human?" I struggled with the last word, feeling it was too brash of a term to use in the situation.

         Shawn didn’t seem bothered, and I could have sworn I saw a small smile across his lips when I posed the question. He was looking sideways at me when he answered, and his stare was whimsical.
         
"When I was little I fell off my bike and cracked my head open. My parents were with me and they were about to call 911 when I started healing myself. I've had my memory come back to me slowly over the years, what I am and all of that stuff. So, I've been explaining everything to them as best I can since that incident."

         I was troubled thinking of his parents. The sympathy I felt for them came strongly, it made me a bit uncomfortable. They must have been the strongest people on Earth as far as I was concerned, having to deal with that pain and confusion for so long. Through my sympathy also came respect, the two of them had stayed with Shawn and nurtured him even and didn’t let their fear choose between right and wrong. I was positive there were a number of people in the world that would leave the child in a box on the road to be someone else's burden. I was afraid that my change in mood would alter the free flow of answers I was getting, so quickly I prompted him with another question.

"Does anyone else know? Like, relatives or good friends?"

         Shawn shook his head lightly, and when his eyes passed over me they almost seemed apologetic.
"No, just my parents and you."

         I made a face at that and lowered my eyes to the ground. I never asked to be a part of this, but I had become virtually chained to it. I found myself wishing for the random invention of a time machine, so I could go back and make sure Shawn and I never had the chance to even meet eyes. I could see my house by then and I was both dismayed and relieved at the sight. I had too many questions to be answered in such a short distance. I made a point to ask the important ones.

"That guy that started the war –"

"Amalric?" Shawn interjected calmly.

         I nodded and then twisted my fingers together.

"We know I'm not the one he is 'guarding', then who is?"

         Shawn gave a shrug of his insignificant shoulders, the movement rigid. He seemed frustrated all of a sudden and I wondered if I had pushed the questions too much. I was about to recant my words when he started talking.

"I wish I knew. It could be anyone, anywhere, any age and any nationality. That’s why when I found you I was…euphoric. You were my golden ticket out; you were very one who could save everything I loved.
         And you were so close, I had found you here. You could have been in any other place, but you weren’t," his voice died off, leaving a melancholy hum across my ears.

         I was starting to get a better understanding of Shawn's motives. They were fueled by blind rage and the prospect of revenge. They were despondent attempts to save a way of life, to save his people. Even though I was terrified of him, I admired Shawn. Though his personality was apathetic and seemingly impenetrable, it allowed him to see the reason in killing one innocent person to save thousands of others.
         I didn’t speak for a while, but nodded to give the impression that I understood. Shawn stopped walking, and I followed his actions. I was surprised to be standing in my driveway, my Mother's car parked a few feet away. I quickly realized that I had no idea what time it was, or how long I had been out; panic settled in. For some reason, Shawn was able to sense my paranoia.

"It's only six. Your parents shouldn’t be worried."

         I relaxed, my shoulders sagging. I was only a half an hour later than usual. Sure, I'd have to explain the wet hair and bedraggled appearance but that wasn’t enough of a problem to cause worry.

"One more question," I pleaded.

         He nodded.

"When you put your hand over my heart those couple of times," I started cautiously, "What was that for?"

         Shawn's relaxed face darkened dramatically and his lips pressed together. I grimaced and my heart struck the bottom of my stomach. His expression had me frozen to the ground; it was almost violent looking.

"Sorry, was that a bad question?" I hurried to ask.

         Unlike I had hoped, his face stayed stony. His eyes had lost their warmness and resembled a dirty winter ground, cracked and dusted over with frost. He gave a low sigh and looked sideways at my front door, his mouth still tight.

"No," he murmured, "I just doubt you really want to hear the answer."

         I tried hard not to let my face reflect the sudden terror that came with his words. I wrinkled my nose a bit and then lifted my chin, trying to look as fierce as I could.

"Try me," I persisted.

         He offered an imploring look towards my house again as if he was trying to lure my Mother out for a greeting and stall his answer. His hesitation was chilling. Finally, he turned back to me.

"I was studying how you react to fear. I studied your heart beat, how it sped up when I said certain things and did stuff."

         The puzzle pieced itself together and simultaneously the blood drained from my face. It was quite clear to me why he had needed to study my fear. It was to figure out the best way to kill me. I tried to keep a lighter note on the conversation despite its morbid nature and gave a nervous laugh.

"Did you find anything interesting?" I asked before swallowing hard.

         My voice was meeker than I had planned, and I tried to clear my throat before giving a shaky smile. Shawn didn’t return it and stared hard at the asphalt under us, his brow furrowing.

"Events need to be free of any conflict for you to stay in them. That’s why I was so quick with my attack. I knew if I played mind games or acted suspicious you'd get uncomfortable."

         I almost vomited, the scene played back to me like a movie splayed across the insides of my eyelids. We had walked up the stairs in silence. He went through the door to his room normally and I followed after him. I didn’t even have time to scream. He pressed himself close to me to prevent struggling and cupped the back of my head with his palm. Cold metal pressed under the bone of my jaw; it happened quickly. The blade dragged to the left, unstitching my throat. Blood poured effortlessly over my collarbones and dripped sweetly across my chest. I felt Shawn's support leave me and I fell pitifully onto my back.

"Told you, you wouldn’t want to hear it."
         
         Shawn's voice snapped me out of my horrifying playback and I blinked a few times to try and appear to look unfazed. When I looked at him, his expression hinted he wasn’t buying it. His voice had not been mocking, but my head was spinning too wildly to pinpoint the tone he'd used. The need for my bed suddenly became immeasurable.

"I'm gonna go," I said, feeling lightheaded when I attempted my first step away.

         Ashen fingertips gently grazed at my wrist, warm skin brushing against my knuckles.

"Wait," he protested.

         I pulled back hysterically from his grip, as if I had been burned. My reaction to his touch was not indignant like before, this time it was purely instinctive. I had pulled away in pure terror, and the alarm on Shawn's face quickly drowned me in guilt. He only nodded, and turned around. There were no parting words between us. I stood there for a while watching him limp down the sidewalk, my hands were tingling and my heart wouldn’t slow down.
         I cagily made my way to my house.

         It was unreal that I was meandering back into my normal life. I didn’t see how I was expected to walk into my house, say hello to my Mom, and pretend that nothing happened. I couldn’t fathom how anyone could pull it off.
         My chaos was organized, I realized as I opened my front door. I assumed that was the reason I was able to appear so indifferent as I crossed the threshold into my home. Everything had been carefully explained to me. Even if it was all hardly believable, my mind latched on to it. It was gossamer, but it was still something; and my head was grasping for anything it could get.

"Hey sugar," my Mom greeted happily as I entered the kitchen.

"Was that Shawn I saw out there with you?" she asked, her eyes were glimmering in the need for the scoop.
         She turned back to what ever was on the stove, pretending to be interested in that. But I knew her well enough to know that she had every inch of her concentrated on me. She pretended not to be fully listening to me, so that I would be more confident that she was scrutinizing me and I would tell her more. It never really worked; I caught on to it pretty early.

"Yeah, he walked me home again," I said, casually making my way to the hall.

         My Mom cooed and gave a secret smirk into her pot. She turned to my annoyance –she would now ask about my hair and such- and placed her hands on her hips.

"Are you two an item yet?" she inquired, eyes glittering.

         I was too tired to make a witty remark back. I only kept walking, trying to get out of her sight as quickly as possible.

"No," I stated flatly.

"Hey, your hair's wet," my Mother said, finally catching on, "And whose sweatshirt is that?"

         I didn’t answer and kept walking; my fatigue was getting stronger and stronger. I could barley keep my head from lolling onto my chest.

"Dad's gonna be home in a few minutes," she called after me, trying to get some response.

         I didn’t answer her until I had my hand wrapped around the cold knob of the door to my room. The metal felt icy under my sweating palms.

"I don’t feel good Ma," I called back, "I'm gonna go rest. Tell Dad I said 'night'."

         That finally silenced her, and I slid open my door. I had forgotten about Shawn's sweatshirt, he hadn’t asked for it back. It was too warm to take off, and the mixture of its hypnotizing warmth and the sight of my bed were too strong. I was surprised I even made it to my bed before my knees gave out. I landed gently, and didn’t bother to take the thing off. In fact, I didn’t bother to take anything off. I was asleep within seconds.