Lost Minds

23

"I don't know what you're talking about." I respond, turning around and heading to the living room. Daxon slams the door behind him, taking heavy footsteps to the couch behind me. Sitting down on the arm of the couch, he sits on the opposite end, facing me.

His brown wavy hair covers his tan forehead as his eyebrows furrow at me. I blink.

"What do you want?" I ask, looking at my nails, avoiding his glare.

"You've been missing since Friday." He comments. I nod.

"Ok, and?" I reply.

I could be watching the rest of my documentary.

"What's going on?" He asks, lowering his voice and softening his tone. I glance at him. He sighs, kicking off his shoes and waiting for me response.

What do I say to him? That my parents ran off and I don't see a reason to put myself through school, because my social worker works with them, and if she asks me how I'm doing and wants to make a visit because of the fact she saw me, I'll have to go to some shelter?

"Nothing." I breath out, stretching as my crop top raises with my arms.

Daxon stares at me.

"Naomi, it's just me. You can tell me." He says. I roll my eyes.

Here he comes acting like he supposed to care about me. I don't need it.

"I already said nothing. I just took a small break out of school. I wanted one." I shrug.

"And your parents are ok with this?"

What the fuck is this?

"I don't why you think you have any right to come to my house and question me like this." I glare at him and he continues to stare at me with those dead eyes.

I'm tired of this.

"Naomi." Daxon gets off the couch, walking towards me. I hop off it as well, moving away from him.

"No, fuck off! We're not friends. You don't get anything, do you? When I talk to you, it's like I'm talking to a wall. I don't want to be your friend. I don't need anyone, my parents, you, Ruth, fucking Mr. Bg, all of you can eat rocks as afr as I'm concerned!" I walk backwards around the side of the couch as he stands opposite me, on the other side.

"Naomi." He repeats.

"Ugh! Stop saying my name. Leave me alone. You're going to come into my life and fuck me up even more, just like everybody else. You're no different. I can see the way you look at me, the way your body faces away from me sometimes and how dead you look when you laugh around me. You're fake. All of it, I'm done with that." I scream out, backing up as he walks straight towards me.

"Naomi, please listen." My back hits something and I glance behind me to see a white wall over my shoulder.

Since when was this house so small?

Turning back to look at Daxon, he stands in front of me, close enough so I can't escape, his arms on either side of my head as he hovers over. I push against his chest but he doesn't budge.

"I know you've been hurt, but I'm asking you to trust me." Daxon breathes out, his hands balling into fists against the wall. I scoff.

"Get out." I breathe heavily as my chest brushes his. A smirk appears on his face.

"I need you, Naomi." He states, tilting his head at me. I blink at him.

"Ok." I say.

"You agreed to my bodyguard. Are you going to become a shut-in? I'm asking as an employer." I shrug.

I don't know what I care about anymore. I don't know if it matters. Me and my demons have been fine, and we'll keep doing great.

"Let's go have have a training session. If you want to quit after that then fine, I'll disappear out of your life along with everyone else." He backs away, throwing his hands up, and nodding at me.

My mind flashes to the gun under my pillow. I can't sleep without it in hands.

I nod to him slowly.

I love to shoot. If this is the last time then I might as well enjoy it.

Daxon claps his hands together and rubs them.

"Good, get dressed. I'd love you in those shorts, but the place I'm taking you probably won't. Wel-" He starts.

"Shut up." I push pass him and stomp up my stairs.

He always comes in when he's not wanted and gives me what I want. I don't even want to refuse because a training session would be perfect.

I need to burn off this eating hatred in my chest. It's consuming me. I can't even go an hour asleep with how active my mind is at night, making nightmares for me. Every single one of them have either my parents, Ruth and Mr. Bg, or that one fucking annoying guy in my living room right now. It's torture.

I slip into my room and get dressed.

This better be worth it.

***

The silent car ride stops as we park. I pop open my door and look around large fields ahead of us.

"What is this, Daxon?" I ask, squinting as a harsh wind blows into my eyes and through my thin jogger suit. He chuckles, rounding back to his trunk and throwing it up and open.

"Come help me with these." He grunts, hugging a dozen of guns to his chest and hurrying to the grass before us to lie them down. I stare at him.

"Are you just going to watch? C'mon, get some." I flinch into action, moving towards the open boot.

Who does he think he is to order me around?

I pout, scooping up the guns with both my arms and doing the same little dance he did before.

This better be fucking worth it. It's cold.

He goes back to the car as I lie down my load and grabs hoops of bullets. My eyes widen as he comes back to stand beside me.

"So what's this? Are there deer here you want to hunt?" I ask. The car ride was way too long for this to be some normal trip.

"No, we're going to kill everything and everyone that's pissing us off." He grins hard as I turn to look at him.

"What?" I ask, again. He laughs.

"While you shoot at nothing, you're supposed to shout out everything that's stressing you out. That's how you kill it." He says, bending down to grab himself a handgun, loading it up.

That sounds dumb.

"I'll watch." I sigh.

Why did I expect this to be interesting? I'm just going to go home and stay a shut-in. Fuck being a bodyguard. Fuck everything.

"Catch." He throws a machine gun at me, and I stumble back, wrapping my fingers around it in time.

He came out here to kill me.

"Don't throw your guns at me, Daxon." I sneer.

"Then stop being such a baby. Wake up, Naomi. Life happens. Are you always going to run away and cry about it?" He glares at me, holding his gun up to his shoulder, ready to shoot.

That's not fair.

"Or are you going to fight back?" He shoots, letting his gun roar as it echoes through the land.

I scoff.

He's better at this than I thought.

I clock my gun, raising it to my eye level, aiming at a cloud.

"I'm not a baby." I say, letting the bullets rip.