You were scared. Terrified, to be more accurate.
Your tiny hands gripped the skirt of your little sun dress, eyes brimming with tears. "M-Mr. Spain? What's wrong?" Said brown haired male smiled down at you sadly and took you into his open arms. Another cut zipped a line across his cheek, and a puffy bruise began to swell under his left eye. He hugged your little body tightly to his chest. "Don't worry, little one, everything's going to be alright."
His words were ragged and tired, and faded off at the end of his sentence. He caressed your hair in his palm before picking you up and sitting at the couch. You knew he was tired, and that his arms threatened to buckle under an unknown force, but his embrace made you feel warm; made you feel safe. You looked up at his tired face. He looked horrible. The cuts on his face were bleeding down his cheeks, he had a busted lip, too many bruises to count, and still yet more kept forming.
But he still found the strength to wipe away your falling tears and whisper for you to stop them, because you were going to be okay, and he would never let anyone take you away. That he would never let anyone hurt you.
But you weren't crying for yourself- you were crying for him. You didn't know what was going on, and you feared that someone was trying to kill Mr. Spain- your Mr. Spain. It was then, as he pulled you tightly to his chest and hugged your petite frame close to him, that you noticed the blood beginning to spot his white shirt.
"M-Mr. Spain! You're bleeding!"
You tried to touch his wound so you could help but he grabbed your hands and forced your arms around his neck. He nuzzled your cascading tresses and breathed out shakily. "Please don't look, (name)…please," you could feel his blood on your stomach. You cried hard onto his shoulder. He let you. "I'm fine, and I wont let them take you away,"
He opened hazy emerald hues.
"As long as I live I wont let anyone- anyone hurt you."
In that moment you swore you had never heard anyone so determined.