My fingers draw along the edges of pistols and Glocks.
This is like a small heaven.
The wall decorated by tons of life-snatchers. That's fun.
I've seen every single one of these in YouTube videos and the movies I watch. I never thought I'd see every single one of them in one room.
"When did you have time to cook up such a collection?" I ask, bending low to observe the machine guns closer. Shiny black metal glistens as the lights with the room reflects off every surface.
Seems like he's good at maintaining them too.
I've loved guns and knives since I can remember. Just one of these babies in your hands and you've got the power to bitch anyone any way you want to.
A gun is the cherry on top when someone is running away from you and you literally blast it after them. Too many dreams of that scene.
"I been a lot of places and had a lot of time." His hands skim a samurai blade against the inside of the door.
Daxon stands by the entrance as a lonely look crosses his face.
He doesn't have anyone he's living with. Either his parents have sent him off on his own or he's just by himself. Both ways seem lonesome.
It's none of my business though. He's asked to be friends but now I'm quite content with just being his bodyguard.
"What do I have to do on the job?" I turn my attention back on him.
"You mean being a bodyguard?" He ask.
Duh. I nod.
"Keep me from dying and stay loyal to me. That's all I want. I'll let you do whatever else." He stretches his arms over his head, yawning.
"What do you mean staying loyal?" My back presses against the cold metal.
"If it ever comes down to picking me and another, you always have to pick me. No, hesitations." He deadpans.
His tone darkens towards the end and I shrug. Whatever the master wants, I guess.
"Why haven't you had a bodyguard before?" The door creaks.
"Who says I haven't?" He observes the machinery again.
"Well I mean, you don't have one now." Except me, but not really even that.
"That's because he decided to stay behind when I moved here. He fucked around and found a girlfriend. I let him go." Daxon sucks his teeth.
Is that why he needs someone loyal to him? So I don't leave him like his old bodyguard did? Did it hurt his feelings that bad?
My eyes stay trained on Daxon's back as he moves, looking at his collection.
I still don't get it.
He shows up to school, says he wants to be my friend and now he's just giving me want I want?
Maybe its because I wasn't exactly spoiled when I was younger, but do people act this clingy and nice, I guess to people they don't know?
Years and years of therapy has taught me people and animals are sweet but they never do anything without the thought of how that benefits them.
From giving to charity to stealing, there's a reason behind every action, whether that's the feeling it gives you when you've done it or the need for something.
If he showed to school wanting me to be his bodyguard, why would he drag out the situation?
I wasn't even supposed to find out this part of his life, let alone ask him to let me join.
He always has this strange poker face on, and I don't know how to ignore that.
You don't do stuff like this for strangers. Its weird and I could've been the one to call the police on him for killing Moe.
"What's your motive for letting me be dragged on all this?" He turns back towards me, slowly.
"You know I think a knife would suit you best." He comments. I narrow my eyes at him.
"Daxon I need to want to protect you as your bodyguard, and trust you, as you have to trust me." His faces falls and a blank one replaces it, one to match his eyes.
"I thought you wanted this."
"Why are you just accepting what I want though?" I ask, getting close to him.
"I can't just help out a friend."
"We're not friends." I deadpan, stopping in front of him.
His gaze moves between my lips and eyes as the distance from his nose to mine, shorten.
"Maybe, I'm hoping to draw a little more out of you. A little more than just being friends." His hand comes up and lazes along my jaw, as his thumb slightly brushes my bottom lip.
"You're lying and I don't know why. I'm not sure if I should even ask anymore." His hand stops at my chin.
"You should stop. Like I said I just want you to trust me. That's all."
"You know I can't trust you." I ignore the heat his hands send through my face.
"Then don't, just leave me to do what I do and I'll help you do the same." He backs up, leaning back against his weapons.
If that' show he wants it to be, fine. I'll find out shit as we go anyway.
"So whats your cup of tea?" He asks, gesturing to the racks beside him.
I walk over a group of small hand guns, pulling on off.
"I'm not too over the top. I just need something that can do it's job." I check if the gun is loaded. A full case reveals itself.
Good.
"I thought you would enjoy that." He leaves the room and shut the door behind us.
"So now you teach me how to shoot this thing?" The weight of the gun satisfies the itch in my palm that has been playing with my head.
"Yup. As long as you listen, I'll teach you how to use all the gadgets in that closet." We head to the main door.
"Are we starting today?" I hover over his shoulder as he open the door.
"No, I have to get a few things together before you can practice. For now, just bring it home and get used to her." He opens the door and we lumber down the stairs.
"is it ever scary out here?" I ask, as the darker forest dim our path.
"It's a lot more comforting than the thoughts in my mind."
***
Daxon is a bad influence on me.
I toss the gun again in front of me and catch it.
If there were people parents wanted their kids to stay away from, Daxon would be top on that list.
I hate his attitude, everything about him screams 'liar' to me but I can't help but find myself tied up in his schemes. I want to be in them.
He can't tell me to change because he's way too fucked up himself. It's a refreshing change of pace and I'm not surprised I haven't given up on him yet.
The gunshot of that day goes off in my head again, sending shivers down from my head to my toes. Yeah, I can tolerate him.
He's not any worse than my therapist who put on poker faces just like he does.
One thing that's for sure is Daxon doesn't like me. It's good to know at the very least he's a bit normal.
He didn't answer when I asked him why he looked like he hated me. That already was a milestone in my investigation of Daxon.
"What don't you want to tell me?" I sing song out, as my episode returns from a commercial.
The door creaks out and I quickly stuff the gun under the pillows of the couch.
I watch in confusion as my parents walk through the door, taking off their sweaters and hanging them up on the hooks beside them.
"Honey, we were out for like 5 hours, I'm tried." My father whines.
"We have to celebrate that she's leaving soon! I got a call back from the place and they said they'll have a room ready as soon as the next two weeks." My mother pats his back.
"Hey not so loud-"
I'm not going anywhere." I state, pausing my episode. They freeze, as their eyes turn to me.
"Why aren't you asleep? It's like 1 am." My father comments.
"I said I'm not going." I click play on the TV.
"I've had enough." My father storms over to the TV set and unplugs everything, the TV to the Wi-Fi.
He only snaps once in a while. This should be good.
"Dad, can you please plug the TV back in?" I sigh.
"You're the parasite in our lives." He seethes standing in front of the blank screen.
"Yes, yes, now can you just-"
"You're not my child. My child would never disrespect her parents the way you do."
Here we go with the 'my child this, my child that'. Boring.
"Dad, can you do this another day-"
"I hate you." He sneers at me, turning on his heel and down the hall. My mother trails behind him.
He didn't have to tell me that. Both of them don't.
It doesn't matter what they think of me though. It doesn't matter that no matter how hard I try for them, they see me as a burden.
My hand slips into the couch where I stuffed the gun, pulling it out.
I wrap both hands around the handle, laying my finger on the trigger and aiming at the blank TV screen, with one eye open.
My arms extend and I lower the gun, as if about to shoot, just like Daxon.
"Bang." I whisper, tilting the gun as if it's gone off.
I bring it close to my chest, tightening my grip on the weapon as the moments tick by lost to time.
If they want someone to hate, I'll give them someone to hate. I'll make sure they drown in it, grasping for a light they'll never reach because of how rooted in darkness they are.
If I'm going down, they are too. They've been pulling me under with them since that bitch popped me out her womb.
My nails press against the metal, as I get up and head upstairs.
"We should've never...!" Shouts echo through the house as I shut my door and lie down.
I set the gun on safety and remove the bullets, tucking them under my pillows. I hold the gun in my arms, still, throwing my covers over my shoulder.
Daxon is right, he's like the devil, and I'm willing to sell my soul to him and burn in my personal beloved hell, if it means a life of riches and freedom.
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413 - 8/4/20
Hey guys congrats for reaching 400!!!
Next update soon!
Bye bye.