Vulnerable

ARROW

MIX EMOTIONS played across my girls’ faces; exhaustion, satisfaction, motivation, and joy after an hour an half of exercise. It was a great fulfillment on my part to see them participating in this program.

Since I joined my best buddy teaching self-defense classes two years, I wasn't sure if I made the right decision over choosing a personal details job for a self-made billionaire, but so far, I have loved my job.

My fucking ass comrade, Kian chose to train male trainees, while I handled classes for women. I didn’t have a problem though—if I was trained to protect my country, how could I not teach women to protect themselves?

“Okay, girls. We’re done with the hammer strike. Tomorrow, I will show you how to knee a groin.” I faked a grimace. The room quickly filled with laughers from sixteen women--battered wives, divorced, victims of physical assaults by thugs, and others just wanted to protect themselves.

“Thanks, Arrow,” they chorused and scattered to dismiss except for a young woman. She was tense, distant, and distracted since I started the training earlier.

“Caitriona?”

She startled and flicked her gaze at me. “Y-yes?” She was the newest member of the group—started last week. Judging by her reaction, she didn’t have to tell me what she'd been going through. I’d seen many people like her. It fucking hurt me that as young as nineteen, she had to go through that experience. She was still one of the luckiest people who chose to fight other than hid it in the darkness until it swallowed them whole.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She smiled timidly.

I was not entirely convinced. Her eyes said otherwise—the pain and horror are so deep. But I made a promise a long time ago that I wouldn’t just stand here and do nothing.

“You know, if you need someone to talk to, I am here, not only as your instructor but as a friend, okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Really. But thanks. Appreciate it.”

“Okay then. Take care. See you tomorrow.” I walked out of the studio, queasy. I felt that I fail her. To be able to help them, I needed to gain their trust. That was one of my goals. I wanted to help them, but there was always someone who would not easily open up something painful, terrible to someone like me, even to a psychologist.

For fuck's sake. I sounded like a shrink, which was not part of my job, by the way. I just couldn't help it. It was in my nature. There was just a part of me that if I could get to know them, it would be easy for me to teach them how to protect themselves.

From the moment my mother and my sister died in that collision, I was bound to that one purpose—it was to protect. At twelve, my grandmother took care of me, then a year after, she died—all the women in my life just died and left me helpless, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Even if it was a part of the cycle of life. It twisted my gut to see someone as helpless as I was.

I hit the shower and let the water into almost freezing cold. Bullets of water hit my skin which made my whole body shiver. It works. It made me numb and forgot the memory of how I left the job that I loved.

After I did my shower, I slipped into my old ripped jeans and black tees. I scrubbed my unshaven cheeks to find two missed calls from Imogen. We grew up together as we passed from foster to foster homes. She didn’t call me often, but we never missed at least a message or a meetup in a month. Now, she worried me.

I dialed her number and she picked up as if she was waiting for my call.

“About damn time!”

“’sup, bigfoot?” I could feel her rolling her eyes from the other line. She hated that name, but I thought it fit her. She had ten-size shoes and stood five feet and eleven inches tall—a taller for a woman of my liking. Good thing she was like a sister to me.

“I saw her, Arrow! But I think she didn’t recognize me anymore.” There was an urgent and panic in her voice.

“Who?”

“I didn’t even get a chance to introduce myself because I was about to leave, and I just stood there like an idiot. She was early for her appointment.”

“Can you stop for a sec, emoji? Who’s her?”

“The girl. Remember when you told me during our high school?”

My brows furrowed. My thoughts scattered. Wait. Oh, fuck! Was Imogen saying the same person? How in the hell did she end up here? Or the right question was, what the hell was she doing in the hospital? I let go of the breathing I had not known I’d been holding. I was suddenly terrified.

When I first saw her in high school, it was odd that I felt something for her. I couldn’t get near her without thinking of someone I cared about and felt something mortifying at the same time.

I was torn between grateful and in pain when her family suddenly left. I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her because every time we bumped into one another, I ran away like my ass was on fire. Her exit had caused something terrible to me. I thought of her a lot until I ended up jacking off while thinking about her. I felt fucking guilty, devastated, and ashamed of myself.

“Arrow Archer Remington Slate.” Imogen’s angry voice jabbed me back from my thoughts. “Are you listening? Damn you, dude! You still got it bad, don't you?”

“Sorry, I was a little distracted.”

“Obviously,” she snapped.

“How did you know it was her? It’s been years, emoji.”

“She’s Brooklyn Paisley, isn’t she?” Her name did a flutter down my belly and my heart was in my fucking throat.

Shit!

“Is she okay?” I asked hesitantly, hoping it didn’t sound like I was inquiring about something when it was my real intention.

“No. And I can’t discuss it with you. I can’t break the PBR.”

I groaned. “Then what do you hope to achieve? It’s not that I can help her, can't I? You are a nurse, and it's your freaking job.”

“I just feel bad for her, Arrow. She’s not the—”

“Then don’t!” I swallowed. Something deep inside me wanted to press what happened to her, to sate my curiosity, but the only person I considered family had no plan on to tell me. “Is that all you can tell me? Fine. I have to go.” Before I could end the call, she sighed.

“She’s blind, okay?”

My eyes widened. I swallowed the clog of shock down my throat. “What the—? How—?” My jaw clenched. I shut my eyes closed, and suddenly her face sprung into my mind. Her big hazel eyes--those were the only things that made Brooklyn different from her, who had a brown one just like mine.

Shit!

***

I BOLTED up in bed, heaving. The thin sheet was sticking into my sweaty skin.

“Motherfucking world!” I threw my legs out of bed as the ringing of the doorbell never went off. It was probably Imogen, and I would fucking let her clean my apartment for disturbing my sleep. At least, this time, it was not the same fucking terror-filled nightmare I had—not the face of my ex in that fucking explosion or the car crash of Mom and my sister.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I strode toward the door. “Just fucking wait!”

I let go an irritated breath before I unlocked the door and turned back to the kitchen. “Shut the door behind you.”

Click

Clack

That sound. My heart stopped in my chest as I froze stiffly like a corpse. Jesus Christ. I swallowed before I turned around. My world was just suspended. My eyes widened at the sight of the woman standing right in front of me. I was stunned to the point that I forgot how to breathe.