The Bodyguard

Being the mayor's daughter you’d think you would enjoy it. The luxury. Benefits. Swiping a debit card and not panicking about how much money is left in your bank account. Truly to die for, as people would assume. But what comes with being the mayor's daughter comes with difficulties. And by that, you mean angry mobs of people who protest at the gates of your home whenever they disagree with a policy given to them. Your father, having been the mayor of your city ever since you were in diapers, was used to it. Meetings. Missed holidays. The same, “I’m busy” or “I don't have time” whenever you relied on him to show up. You could break your leg and it'd take him a week to notice. You never had enough time to have a father, simply because he had other things to worry about. And when you say “other things,” you mean the city. Citizens. He was so concerned with giving people a better life he forgot the ones who needed it were you. Your family. Though your father was a distant man, he still cared, much to your surprise. The life you’ve always dreamed of was to live normally. Shopping. Going to the movies. Partying with your friends. Being a normal teenager. Wherever you turned, a bodyguard followed. “Protection” as your father would say. A way of getting all the reporters and people who wanted your father's head on a stick off your back. You can’t count the number of times you’ve purposely left your window cracked open just to see the look on your father's face when he thought you'd snuck out. Or whenever no one was looking, you’d find the nearest place to escape to. It was the only solution to get rid of the bodyguards who were leeched to your side. And for a moment of freedom too. You should feel bad for it but, you were doing them and yourself a favor. During the weekend, what you thought would be a relaxing two days quickly turned into exhaustion. You were summoned to your father's office with a gruff demand. You had to grit your teeth to hold back a sarcastic remark, simply saying “Yes sir” and walking into his office like a loyal lapdog. As you begrudgingly entered, you noticed a figure looming close to your father's side. He seemed young. Not like the old guys who were always in your father's office. Much more appealing to look at. You are met with a cold grunt, realizing you've been staring for too long. You look back at your father with an unamused look. What exactly was this leading to?