The overall notation of super powers is typically great, often mind reading even more so enviable. Yet why is it those deemed heroic are just as psychologically screwed up as we are, if not more? Those we trust to protect us are in direct correlation with our downfall. Leaving those left to wonder what “saved” really is. And do we honestly trust those bestowed with powers to be our protectors. What’s left is morality in question above the rest. When one takes too much precaution in protection who is to say we couldn’t have seen it coming. We all just sat back and turned a blind eye in the false pretention that those we put our faith in truly deserve our trust. Innocence and trust are as evanescent as a brilliant firework in a darkened sky. It’s only a matter of the circumstances in which one loses the traits previously mentioned.

Spinning the precious jeweled ring around the tip of his smallest finger as his impatience grows. The nerves ripple across his body like an earthquake over land. As the diamond catches the light it splays out a brilliant beam of colors across the dimly lit restaurant. Its weight increases as the meaning behind the symbol of their bond is remembered by him. Placing his finger along the inside of the band to feel the words engraved only makes him more anxious. The ticking of the clock increases its volume and echoes in his head marking each and every moment Natalie isn’t here and possibly being harmed and he cannot stop it.

A great riptide of anger floods over him causing him to pitch forward violently and stumble towards the bathroom. Just barely restraining himself from running over an elderly lady. Putting himself at the mercy of the mirror the man looking back at him is someone he does not recognize. The man is pale the eyes are of a savages looking for someone or something to harm for the sake of Natalie. His knuckles are as white as a skeletons bone as he grips the cool dark tile of the vanity. Each glance he gives to those set of eyes displays a look of pleading for the man he used to be, the man who could not read minds. The man who could calmly wait for Natalie to return from work not panicking that she got held up in traffic. The man who did not hear every thought of every person in the room, on the street, or just passing by.

After splashing water down his face before returning to his table where his beautiful girl waits perched on the edge of the chair waiting to be lost in his arms. “Linden, I’m so sorry you had to wait for me. Everything okay while I was gone?” asking with an undertone of concern. Intertwining into his strong arms where she felt safest, knowing he would save her from all harm.

Pulling back from her so he could read her facial expression clearly during this critical point he asked slowly. Almost as if saying the words any faster they would have lost any amount of meaning to them, “Yeah so umm would you like to go dress shopping for the . . . wedding after dinner?” Trailing off as he took her hand and slipped on the symbol of his protection and commitment for her. Nodding vigorously her smile wide spread yet did not reach her eyes. Natalie felt safer with the ring on as if her Protector was always with her. No matter which person came for her to get at him. It seems of lately he’s been extra smothering, correction, caring. Yet Natalie took it as a sign of his deep passionate emotions for her. Yet there was that sense of being trapped by his smothering hand in everything she did. Not that she’d ever change anything, Natalie was utterly complacent in the way her life was at the moment.

The lights beating down on all the majestic wedding gowns gave it a sense of being in a place where only divine things happened. Each dress had unique lace work and a story to be a part of. Each dress was full of potential for that special day, the day you dreamed about since she was a little girl. Stepping out from the dressing room Natalie twirled in front of three mirrors to get every angle. The dress hugged each curve in just the right way and its bead work was so delicate and intricate one could have lost hours in admiration of the details. This was the dress that she wanted to become bond to Linden in; this was what she wanted to start their life together in. Her thoughts were cut off by his deeply masculine voice in such a feminine store; he was the only man in the store.

“Uhh you look beautiful as usual but uhh don’t you think that dress maybe be a bit you know . . . revealing?” at this her fantasies of her at the alter stop dead in its tracks. Taking a brief moment to recover she walks over to him ever so daintily and says “don’t you want to see this?” no longer masking the hurt from her Protector. The tips of his ears turned beat red instantaneously his response was a curt “Yes, but I don’t want everyone else to as well.” And with that he stalked out of the bridal shop. Leaving Natalie to meet him in the car after mentally beating herself up while changing out of the gown.

Dropping her off at her apartment so he can head to one of his friends, he makes sure to lock her door. Only twenty minutes goes by while at his friends before he receives a call from Natalie. Answering immediately he only hears a quiet whimper. Quickly excusing himself he speeds toward her apartment before anything else can happen to her, he is after all her Protector.

Breaking down the apartment door without thinking twice what the landlord will say later he bellowed in to the room “Natalie, Natalie! Where are you? Is someone hurting you?” The only response he got was a low whimper from somewhere deeper in the apartment. Wasting no time he breaks down every door until he finds the one, the bathroom. Stepping around the corner to see Natalie is not alone as he expected. A man he’s seen before is holding a sleek black gun to her precious temples. It was all just too familiar; his future wife in the hands of a man willing to harm her.

Natalie’s breaths were in short gasps and an occasional whimper. As the adrenaline begins to pulse through Linden’s veins he is able to jump into action as he hears the thoughts of the man. Running until he collides with the man’s vast chest knocking him into the glass door of the shower. Pieces of glass rain down on the two as Linden begins to wrestle the firearm from the man’s grasp.

Linden’s fingers brush against the trigger strong enough to make a single shot fire hitting the mirror and exploding into thousands of tiny shards of glass tearing the flesh closest to what once was a mirror. The blood intermixing on the floor has a close resemblance to spilled wine on a heavenly white tablecloth. Any on looker would have presumed the three to all be dead, yet all of the three had managed to maintain a pulse, weak as it may be. The first to rise is the man with the vast chest, who limps toward the window holding his right shoulder in the hopes of staunching the river like flow of blood that is now cascading the length of his body.

Slowly opening the window with both hands, which sends a wave of pain as well as fresh blood cascading toward the floor. Forcing him to call out in great anguish. Bringing Linden back from the trance he had been swallowed in. Pulling forth the last bit of energy to dive forward to grab the vast chested man’s ankle. Pulling until there was a sickly pop and the man’s ankle goes slack in Linden’s grasp. His knees begin to give out he looks up in time to see the man pull his useless left appendage through the window and onto the roof.

Ironically enough the man with the vast chest would never get any farther than that very roof top. The neighbors would hear sounds of dripping, the man’s blood deserting his body as his heart stops pumping, quite the gruesome sight to see. Let alone live through. The aftermath in the bathroom was one that would fit in a crime scene file folder, just as super powers are only from comics. You could bet money that Natalie never once thought this is what her life would be like. For that matter neither did Linden, hearing everyone’s thoughts. Seeing them for the people they really are. No one ever asks to be different; it was all just situational circumstances after all.

Gently tucking Natalie into his arms where he could safely get her to where she could get the proper medical attention she needed. After a brief trip to the emergency room only one gruesome cut required stitches. Yet an explanation was asked for by a young blonde nurse. He quickly whisked away all questions she had with a quickly spun story.
Linden took the moment to see what made this woman so desperate and gave what she needed. Giving her the kind words and advice that she deserved a good and faithful man. Later that night the same nurse confronted her husband about his infidelity. The young nurse had known for months but lacked the courage to bring the topic up. Her greatest fear was that it was her fault; she somehow had pushed him to cheat on her. With an apology to his wife she went to bed pleased with herself. He poured her a drink, slipping in just enough cyanide to silence her. The young nurse basked in the glory and forgave him and graciously accepted the drink he poured for her. Only four hours after talking to Linden she died that night while sleeping next to her murder.

After only six stitches they still gave Natalie a pain killer prescription. Of which Linden decided she did not need and plucked from her bird like grasp and threw towards the trash, missing hopelessly. She did not need pain medication pulsing through her bloodstream that could only hurt her more. He was her sole Protector; he did not need her dependent on anything but him.

Later on that night a young teenage girl perhaps sixteen found the bottle of pain killers and pocketed them before heading into the mental and behavioral health ward for her routine check-up. After another night of waiting until her parents were too busy fighting to makes sure she ate she secretly dumped her food into the trash. Taking the stairs two at a time she reached her room and locked the door. Stripping off all clothing she stood at the mercy of her mirror and counted her ribs that protruded out of her skin at a sharp angle. Unscrewing the cap she swallows every last pill and for the first time in two years her stomach is full; as her pulse slows to zero and her heart stops its rhythmic beating.

While a young girl’s life is lost Linden clasps his head in his hands as Natalie thanks him for saving her, again. “Why can’t I protect you?” Was all Linden could manage in response to his fiancé’s gracious thank you. Muttering an excuse that he needs fresh air to clear his head he walks down town and takes precisely measured steps. The only thought of his is that he will never be able to protect her if she is living and breathing. Repeatedly the thought enters his mind unwilled yet recurring. Sickening if you will, does he honestly love her enough to kill her? “I am her protector.” He mutters under his breath, just loud enough that the other man on the sidewalk says to him “Dude you gotta keep women in their place, right on man!” and walks away. In that instant Linden see’s that man going home, being the man he really is.

Upon her husband’s return he greets him with a smile to gauge how drunk he is and if the rage will be taken out on her. A tight smile she gives to him and in return is pinned against the wall with his large meaty hand at her thin throat. Muttering in her face close enough she can smell the strong alcohol on his breath she awaits the beating sure to come. Dropping her to the floor he leaves the room but pauses in the door frame as if unsure what to do next. Turning to face his beloved wife she clamps her eyes shut. The only sound she hears is of his belt being taken off makes her stomach drop, he’s never used a belt before . . . with one crack of the belt life can be lost. A life that had not fully been considered a life, being beaten and abused does not a life make.

Unlocking her apartment door he swiftly steps inside and grabs the knife. He will go through with his heroic plan. Sauntering into her room she out cold, he stumbles a bit with the alcohol he drank to make this task easier. He pulls back the covers enough to see the pale white skin of her throat. Tonight will be the last night she lays vulnerable to predators. “I love you and will always protect you.” And with that said he placed the knife at her throat and slit it ever so slowly. The crimson emerged like the rapids and instantly the rush kicked in as he dragged the knife farther along her neck until he hit the rise of her chest. Checking her pulse it had slowed to thirty beats a minute. Soon she’d be dead.

When her heart was almost done he began the surgical procedure of removing her heart while it was still beating. Seeing the bone and muscle of his future bride made him see just how fragile she really was. All the while she screamed out louder and louder. The crack of the bone was sickening at first but it was the most awakening sign that he had done his job as her Protector. Suddenly her screams were silenced as he held her beating heart in his hands he placed it against his chest and they beat together, one slow and measured one; like an engine ready for a race.

Placing the heart in a jar where he would always be able to remember her and know that not a single person could hurt her. Slipping off the silver ring he had bestowed on her just that day he looked along the inside of the band where it read “I would kill for you.” And he placed the ring next to the mutilated and still heart in the clear glass jar. Where he would keep it forever in the memory that he had done his job, he was her Protector. He was The Protector.

Life can be lost ever so easily. Life is evanescent itself. When we make the mistake of trusting our lives with those who cannot be trusted we are allowing our lives to be taken from us. A hero may be deemed trustworthy what are they truly like. Surly they have problems that plaque their minds at night as they try to drift off into a slumber. Yet why is it that rarely is there anything done about it. How many lives could we save if we stopped looking away while those suffer in silence? We don’t want to interfere because it is not our problem. But it is our problem; we may end up a pawn in the game. With our life at stake one day.