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“You need me to walk you to your car, Daph?” Will, the bartender, asked.

He was a really sweet man in his forties, running bar on the weekends to help pay his wife’s hospital bills.

I smiled at his withered face that looked much older than his 43.

“Nah, I think I’ll be okay. Thank you for asking,” I said as I put my share of tips in my pocket.

When I got outside, the night air hit my face, and I took a deep breath.

As soon as I got to my car that was parked across the street, a large hand grabbed mine.

I had my keys ready in my hand to jab the fucker in the eye just like my mother taught me, when another guy showed up and pummeled the guy onto the ground.

When I turned around, I saw the guy who grabbed my ass on the gravel parking lot and his former boss on top of him, punching him repeatedly.

“Stop. Stop. I think he may be unconscious,” I said as I tried to pull the massive man off him.

I wasn’t sure what this guy did for a workout, but it was like I was punching bricks.

I jumped on top of him and tried to pull him off, but he just got up with me dangling from his back and pulled the other guy up with his arm, holding him above the ground.

I wasn’t sure what he ate, but this was insane.

He was flinging around maybe 200 pounds between the two of us like it was nothing.

“I am going to kill this piece of shit,” he yelled, and I shivered at the sheer menace in his voice.

I really believed that he would beat him until his last breath.

“Please don’t. I don’t want you to get into trouble,” I whispered, trying to hold back the tears springing into my eyes.

I hated violence of any kind. I knew it came from my childhood, watching my dad beat the shit out of my mom.

There was something about someone getting bruised and battered that made me feel small again, hiding under the table and shaking.

“Please, I am begging you to stop,” I pleaded as I climbed off his back, hoping that my now sobbing words would have an impact.

He dropped the other guy and turned to look at me, concern slowly replacing the rage that was in his eyes just a moment ago.

“I am going to sue you, motherfucker. I am going to take everything you own and leave you homeless,” the pig bellowed.

My knight didn’t even blink at the coward.

He just saw me on the ground, huddled and shaking.

He walked over to me slowly, hands out, gesturing that he didn’t mean me any harm.

I looked up at him, and he bent down slowly so he could look me directly in the eyes.

“That whore is the reason you will lose everything. I'll make sure of it,” the pig shouted as he clutched his stomach and scooted away like a coward. My knight’s face contorted, making him look like a monster under the streetlight.

I should have been scared with the anger that radiated in his eyes, but I felt a sense of calm take over me.

I couldn’t explain it, but this man wasn’t like my dad.

He wasn’t like the pigs who came into the bar every night.

My knight walked over to the pig, bent down, and spit on his face.

“You don’t scare me. You are nothing more than a piece of shit coward.

You aren’t a man. You’re a fucking animal pretending to be one.

Get the fuck out of here before I actually kill you,” he shouted and then walked away as if the man limping away was nothing but garbage.

He then turned to look at me, his eyes shrouded with concern.

I recognized that look well. It was the look of strangers as they passed my mother in the street and got a glimpse of her battered face.

The look of sympathy and pity. Well, I didn’t want pity.

I was nothing like my mother. I was strong.

I fought. “You okay?” he asked as he offered me his hand.

He was trying to help me up, but I didn’t want his help.

“I’m fine,” I said as I got myself up, ignoring his hand.

No one in life had ever helped me before without wanting anything.

This man may have made me not fear him like I did most, but he was also a man, and they usually had ulterior motives.

“Are you some kind of pervert or something?” The words got blurted out before I could even hold them back.

He cocked his head to the side and smiled.

I couldn’t help but think that his smile was beautiful.

It lit up his whole face and made it softer, kinder.

“No. I just was worried. Guys like Josh are bullies. I knew he would need to unleash his shame for his lack of manhood somewhere. I just sat in my car to make sure the fucker couldn’t get away with anything.

I’m glad I stayed.” I started walking to my car.

He followed, and I let him. I didn’t want to admit it, but the whole situation had startled me, and at least I knew this guy wasn’t going to hit me or rape me.

“This is a lot of work for a phone number,” I joked.

I always made jokes when I was nervous. When I was a teenager, the therapist told me it was a coping mechanism.

She said I did it when I needed to fill uncomfortable silences, which I guess made sense, because the silence in those few steps to my car was unbearable to me.

I felt like I owed him something, because the truth was, if he wasn’t here, if he hadn’t shown up, that fucker may have done God knows what to me.

“You going to give it to me?” he laughed.

“I knew it. You all want something,” I whispered, the scared little girl coming through to protect me.

Never get too close; never get too comfortable.

My mother’s came crashing into my mind. “Honest.” He put both his hands up, palms up.

“I just have issues with aggressive, entitled men. Don’t judge us all for the actions of some.

I am really a good guy,” he stated as he opened my car door for me.

“I am not giving you my number. If you really want to get to know me, I work at Miller’s Coffee Tuesdays and Thursdays.

My shift ends at 8. Swing by, and I will buy you a coffee as a thank-you.

” I got into the car, and he lingered by the door.

“It’s a date.” He smiled that lopsided grin at me again.

“No, it’s a thank-you,” I whispered, shutting the door so quickly that he had to jump out of the way.