I will Protect you for Eternity

A once dedicated soldier has long since retired, but the memories of war still haunts him. He is left with his only daughter, and the rusty old trinkets that speak of mere illusions.

I’ll protect you

     Logan woke from his slumber and instinctively shot out of bed with energy only brought on by the fear and anxiety formed when her heard his daughter screaming. Her room was just down the dark hallway lined with trinkets from Logan’s time spent in the military. He stumbled over a pile of blankets and fumbled in the dark for the frozen doorknob standing in the way of his only daughter. Her screaming got more panicked once he yanked his door nearly off its hinges, and ran down the hall lit only by the glow of the moon. His heart rate increased when he reached for his daughter flower painted door and saw bloody finger prints smeared on the handle and three shallow claw marks streaked down the middle of the wood.

     He could hear feral growls coming from behind the door, he twisted the handle but it felt as though someone was gripping it from the other side. A cold sweat broke the surface of Logan’s skin when his daughter’s crying was overpowered by the sound of tearing flesh and the all too real snapping of bones. He jiggled the handle trying desperately to get to his little girl and the murder who is daring enough hurt her. He jammed his muscular shoulder against the wood hearing the last of his daughter’s gasps and sobs, all he could hear was the sound of crunching and content snarl from the beast within.The smell of blood was strong, Logan’s eyes grew wide, his jaw slacked and his knuckles were white from his grip on the door. 

    After a few shaky breaths his mind finally grasp the event taking place in his daughter’s room. Continuous shouts of pure rage left his mouth as he kicked and rammed the door. Each attack left splinters lodged in his pale skin, and stained his grey night shirt. The abused door finally gave way and crashed to the floor, his eyes scanned frantically around the room but there was no monster to be seen. In fact the blood that should have coated the floor and walls weren’t there either, but it sounded so real, he couldn’t have just…

    “Dad, are you okay?” his daughter’s small timid voice broke him out of his trance, his burning hazel eyes shifted from the floor to his little angel’s bed. There she sat in her pure white pajamas and her blanket held in her tiny fists.

“Melody, are you okay? I heard you screaming.” Logan sat on the edge of her bed and brushed black hair out of her confused brown eyes. She flinched away slightly but he decided to pretend like he didn’t notice.

“I wasn’t screaming dad, I woke up because you were yelling and banging on my door. You really scared me.” her voice became strained with every word filling 

Logan with guilt since he was technically the monster that had scared her. 

      Melody brought the edge of her blanket up to her quivering dry lips and sniffled shifting her gaze from his face to her hands. Even in the dark Logan was able to make out the tears that fell from Melody’s innocent eyes, he quickly shifted her so that she was in his lap and held her gently while stroking her messy hair.

“I’m sorry angel, everything is all right. Daddy is all right.” he whispered into her hair as she sobbed into his large chest and curled up so she was closer to his comfort. 

       He looked up at his reflection in the full length mirror hanging from the opposite wall. Shaggy black hair framed his strong jawline and stuck out at random angles and his skin adorned countless scars from his past. Not to mention the drying blood marks left by the splinters still lodged in his shoulders and feet. He truly looked like a broken product of the military, his look truly solidified by the size difference between him and the five year old who had fallen asleep in his arms. He carefully took her soft hand in his rough calloused palm and kissed it gently before tucking her back into bed. He looked back at himself in the mirror but this time his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. 

      The once clean room was decorated with dry blood and dust, the bed sheets were torn and covered in dried blood. The wooden furniture was decaying and the floor was covered in wood, glass, and a film of dust. Logan forced down the vomit that built up and turned to look at his daughter’s angelic face to calm himself down. He pulled down the blanket that was covering her face and blanched at the sight before him. He couldn’t even tell if this thing was his baby or not, all that he say was empty eye sockets and a small skeletal structure with patches of black locks sprouting from the skull. 

       ‘This isn’t real, my daughter is fine, I just tucked her in. It will all go away again.’ Logan rubbed at his eyes praying the images would dissipate like last time. He made sure this time not to make any sounds that would wake Melody up and took a few calming breaths before opening his eyes again. Everything was back where it was supposed to be the room was clean and perfect, the mirror was fixed, and his Melody sleeping soundly next to him. He smiled contently and went to stroke her cheek but stopped not wanting to wake her back up, or worse, another hallucination. 

        He quickly and quietly climbed over the busted door and walked back to his own room. He turned on his bathroom light and began plucking the pieces of wood from his body. Once he was about to get back into bed he noticed a pill bottle on his nightstand, they were for his Post Traumatic Stress, but he never took them, something inside just told him not to, as if taking them would show him a horrible ugly truth. He threw the bottle listlessly into a plastic waste bin next to his dresser and crawled back into bed with a long yawn. Melody was safe, and he would always be around to make sure of that. With this final thought, Logan drifted into a light slumber surrounded by his happy thoughts.

        A slight breeze picked up outside signaling a storm silently approaching, the old curtains on the hallway rustled gently from the wind coming through the broken windows. The air currents causing a whispers to echo throughout the house accompanied by the shushing rain. Logan was rudely awoken once again, but this time it was a leak dripping from the ceiling that constantly hit a stray piece of scrap metal on his floor. He grumbled as he slunk out of bed for the second time and kicked aside the sharp material. His trained ears picked up the small sounds of Melody’s groans and went to go see when the problem was this time, if anything at all. Since there was no urgency this time around he took his time walking through the dirty hall. The pieces of glass from the windows crunched under his bare feet, yet he didn’t even seem to notice the trail of blood leaking from the now fresh wounds. He shivered when a strong breeze collided with him and grabbed the window frame and closed it, blind to the fact that the wind was still coming in due to the lack of glass. He just kept walking and smiling to his angel’s room. Once he entered the room he saw his daughter sitting up in her bed again with worried eyes staring out of her window.

  “Sweetie, it’s so late, you need to get some sleep.” Logan’s voice was calm and sounded tired himself. 

He sat at Melody’s side as she turned her gaze towards him, “I don't like storms, can you sleep with me like mom did when she was still here?” her eyes shined with optimism as she pleaded with her father, he could never say no when she made that face, it seemed so, helpless.

   “Sure angel, I’ll stay with you. But only for tonight.” he scotched his grinning girl over so he had room to squeeze under her sheets and wrapped his possessive arms around her petite and fragile frame. He brought her close and sighed contently, stroking her thin black hair that clumped and came out between his fingers. His eyes slid closed as only his breath filled the room. “I love you, and I will always protect you.” he whispered before falling back to sleep.

Author's Note

I'm looking for any and all forms of criticism,