But who then, to watch over me?

I’m not afraid because I have been raped too many times to be afraid of anything less.

The message she left on my iPod Touch was the only tangible remnant of the few hours we spent in each other’s company.

Even before she told me, I knew.

I knew too, that a friend with less than honorable motives would soon be making his move on her. In vain hope of appealing to his conscience, and on account of our friendship, I told him to go easy on her.

I told her about what I did, and she asked why. This was my reluctant reply;

I wanted to protect you.

She smiled. We talked. I had dinner and she watched (to assert her fierce independence), refusing to partake in even the plastic glass of plain water. I walked her home and went on my way. She messaged me ‘thank you’ and I replied telling her that we should do this again soon. By all accounts, it was a good date.

It’s been a few days. Calls, text and instant messages go unanswered. A casual check of her facebook wall revealed that aforementioned friend has found and  added her. My heart sank, but I told myself that I cannot interfere more than I already have.

I had wanted to protect her, and in my pain of failing to do so, I wondered;

but who then, to watch over me?