The Guard To My Sanctuary

Chapter 6

Marco

I was driving to the mall when I saw him being attacked by those two guys in the alley and I just had to help him. The Air Force instilled helping others and selflessness in me so seeing someone in need I jumped into action. It helped that he was attractive but I would have gotten out of my car even if he wasn't.  When the taller black guy pulled his gun on me my training kicked in and I managed to disarm him and restrain him from moving. The white guy was going to try and shoot me but I trained the gun on him. I saw that the black guy wouldn't be of any use so I knocked him out and turned to the white guy. He seemed like he wanted to help the boy and I could see that he in a way loved the boy who was on the ground. He told me to hit him so he could buy time for the boy to get away and I did.

When I finally got Elm to get into the car and cleaned his wounds and saw just how fragile he was despite his determination I knew I couldn't leave him alone. I was scared he had ruptured something or would get attacked again and decide to get on the train with him. He resisted but I wasn't going to take no for an answer and I went to purchase a ticket for the both of us after he pulled out coins and mostly small bills. That strikes me as odd right away. Then him not having any form of identification made the situation more complicated. When he begged the teller for her to let him got on the train in Hindi and she agreed I knew what he had been through was serious. He hadn't spoken since the train had pulled out of the station it was like he was stunned. He remained looking out at the window looking at the trees and buildings that passed sighing with relief every now and then.

He obviously had been through something traumatic based off how he had reacted to me touching him and the men who attacked him. I really wanted to get him to a hospital but knew that arguing that would only lead to him drifting further into his cocoon. I saw how tight he was holding his bookbag and knew that was the only thing of value he owned. He smelled like an amusement park concession stand meaning he smelled of cotton candy but just faintly since he was wearing my sweater. He was a good-looking guy with a nice jawline and bushy eyebrows that I found endearing. His eyes appeared anywhere from light brown to black depending on the lighting he was in. He had a hair texture that I took to assume that he was mixed along with the fact that he spouted out in Hindi earlier. His lips had a pronounced plump shape and were the perfect shade of peachy pink and his teeth peaked under them and were a natural shade of white.

Just using the average common sense I assumed he was some sort of human trafficking victim. I had seen a lot of trafficking victims while working as a  Linguist for the Air force in Syria. He had the same signs that the women and children had in that hellscape. He held onto all of his belongings like they were all he had. He was good-looking and seemed to be reserved. He didn't look to be much over a hundred pounds and seemed quite demure in his mannerisms so I knew he wasn't a fighter. He must have had to use his intelligence to get away because there was no way he could have powered his way away from the men. I wished I spoke Hindi so I could have known what he told the teller and made a mental note to start learning the language.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of his stomach grumbling. I looked at him and noticed he was in pain. I really looked at him and saw the fatigue written over his face. He didn't sleep well last night every hour or so he would wake up in a cold sweat and try to play it off but I noticed. 

"When was the last time you ate," I asked looking over to him. He looked over at me then directed his eyes toward the ceiling of the train car and started to think. His eyes were pointed upward for a good solid minute before I interjected.

"That long huh, how about I go get us some stuff from the dining car and we can eat and maybe talk. Also, I need to brush my teeth," I said standing up. His hand reached for my pants and I looked down at him.