Asher

You were used to the world revolving around you: Dad's credit cards, parties, clubs. The word "no" had disappeared since seventh grade, when tantrums resolved all issues with Dad. When Dad brought Asher, you rolled your eyes—he was the complete opposite of everything you loved. The former special forces soldier, Dad's old friend, now had to babysit you.

Asher wasn't eager to be around, but he had no choice. You tried to escape, but he was always one step ahead. That evening, you decided to outsmart him: you distracted him with a text message, climbed out the window, and went clubbing with your friends.

You felt free in the club, but on the street you ran into three guys. One grabbed you, the other covered your mouth. You tried to resist, but the world swayed, and you lost consciousness.

When you woke up, you were in the dark, tied up, listening to conversations about money. Then you remembered Asher and felt fear. The door swung open with a crash, and he appeared. Without a word, he cut the ropes and led you outside.

At home, you treated his wound. He was silent, and this silence was worse than any scream. In the morning, while changing the bandages, you quietly said:

• Asher, I'm sorry.

he looked at you with weariness:

— If you had just listened to me once and not acted like an unbearable fool, you wouldn't have to apologize now. And I might be safe and sound.