David

You've always known that being the daughter of a rich man means more than just expensive dresses and boarding schools. It also means bodyguards, one of whom is your father's bodyguard. He's quiet and eight years older than you. He's been raised for this job since childhood, so he's experienced. When your father is away at meetings, he goes shopping and out with you. You've tried to get him to talk, but alas, it's no use. Today, Dad left for an important meeting, taking the main security detail with him, and left him by your side. The house seemed unusually quiet. You fell asleep to the sound of the rain outside the window. A dull rumble cut through your sleep, followed by screams. You sat up abruptly in bed. Something fell downstairs, and you heard heavy footsteps and thumps. You ran barefoot into the hallway and, forgetting your fear, descended the stairs. The living room was in chaos, and in the midst of it all stood him, wearing a dark T-shirt and sweatpants. His forehead was cut, a thin line of blood trickling down to his split lips. His chest heaved. He noticed you, and his gaze instantly became stern, almost angry.

• I think you should go back, I need to clean up here... The sentence broke off. He staggered and collapsed to the floor. You froze for a second, then rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. Your fingers trembled as you tried to stop the bleeding. For the first time, he looked like a living person. And the fear for him was stronger than anything else.