I'll Protect You (Original Version)

The destruction damage of a white shoe

I paled. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. She knew, I thought frantically. If my brothers found out that I was the reason they had to start wearing suits and tuxedos all day long, I would be better off dead. 
Well, brother. Not plural. Archer wasn't around anymore, and he was well above the age of adulthood (but only by three years). I grew bitter inside at the thought of my missing older brother so I shunned all those old memories and gave in to my brother. Archer wasn't here to skewer me alive, but Jasper was.

My mother smiled happily as she saw the look of resignation appear on my face. I'd like to stay alive, thank you very much. 

"I will be off for my tea, my dears," she chirped happily. "Please, do make yourself at home." Another smile was flashed at us before my mother strolled off, humming a lullaby she used to sing to me when I was little.

"Wait," Logan muttered softly. I almost jumped, realizing how close we had gotten. Since when did this happen? Was he know a magician that could teleport through thin air? I swear he was like, at least three feet just two seconds ago!

"What?" I whispered back. He opened his mouth to reply, but something held him back. Logan shook his head and looked away. 

"It's nothing. Forget about it," he answered. 

Great. Everyone just had to become crazy, didn't they? 

"Not you too," I groaned. He rolled his golden eyes at me. "I think you should go change," he snorted, "not worry about my behavioral patterns."

That's right! I shot him one small smirk, half-thankful that he reminded me, half-angry that I didn't remember it myself. As quickly as I could, I hurried back to my room and this time, I decided to glance into the closet. I didn't want to make Logan stand in the middle of the hallway, or running into any more scary people (a.k.a my grandmother) so I just grabbed a faint peach dress, strapless and short, with blue flower prints all over it.

I attached a belt around my waist, and threw a cream cardigan over, hoping that I looked decent. I exchanged my beautiful red sneakers for an atrocious white pair of flats, complete with a small bow. 

I left the room tying my hair into a ponytail, and ran to meet up with Logan. 

I met his eyes for a split second before he turned a bright pink and hastily looked away. What was up with him? Can't he look me in the eyes for at least a full minute? I know that I had the look of a demon sometimes but, hey, as far as I'm aware, I wasn't very angry at the moment. Demonic Park only appeared when she was angry.

"Are you, um, ready?" he coughed, still refusing to look at me.

That's it. I hated it when people didn't look me in the eye when they talked. Nobles and servants, I could understand. It was a law that stated that someone of a higher level should be shown greater respect, and sometimes that meant lack of eye-to-eye contact. 

But Logan? He was my enemy, the guy I've hated for six years.  He had been one of the few who could hold my glare. I enjoyed glaring at him! Why did he stop?

So I punched him on the arm. I punched him hard.

He yelped loudly, hissing in pain as he clutched at his soon to be bruised arm. He leaned against the rails of the stair, grumbling curse words under his breath between uneven intervals of breathing. 

He shot me the most upset look that I've ever seen him wear, but I merely grinned. Oops, I mouthed sarcastically.

He dove at me, anger in his eyes. I did what any sensible girl would: I booked it. He chased me down numerous corridors, up and down stairs, basically everywhere. Around and around we ran, like a tom cat and a skinny mouse.