Beautiful & Hero

My eyes are closed as I think to myself, “It does not matter how much length of time goes by; I still love him.” Derius’s smile never leaves my mind, and even though they try to keep him from me, I know that Derius is always with me; our symbols make sure of that. I know that in the beginning it sounded crazy, but how else was I to explain my feelings for a sixteen-year-old boy? My name is Karla Jacobs; I was a twenty-eight-year-old bank teller at Desmond Bank in Hallandale, Florida. I used to live alone, and only worked and went out with my friends, but that was until I met Derius Phillips. I was out with a few friends; we were having dinner at this restaurant called Sal’s Steak House. It got late and we were headed to our cars. I parked further away from the restaurant because I had arrived late. I looked around and I could see that the parking lot was pretty empty, except for my car which was parked on the opposite side of the building. I walked to my car, looking through my purse for my keys. Frustrated, sighing as I stopped shuffling through my purse to find them, I thought to myself, “Girl you need to clean this bag out! Dammit, Karla, you live in this purse!” Just as I was about to dump my whole purse, I felt a ring on my index finger. Surprised, I pulled my hand out of my bag and smiled, looking at my keys hanging on my finger. Shaking my head at myself, I continued to walk toward the car. I heard my cell phone ringing in my purse. I reached in to grab it, saying, “Hello.” I listened, only to hear my crazy co-worker, Quintraica, say, “Hey girl, did you make it home yet?” I laughed at her as I sighed, saying, “Girl, no I am walking to my car as we speak. I hate that I got here so late now, I have to walk in the dark to my car.” Quintraica laughed, stating, “Karla, I would not be out there at this time of night. You better get your butt to your car and go home.” I agreed; looking around, it was pitch black outside, and I was out there walking to my car alone. I must’ve been crazy to be out there like that. I continued to talk to Quintraica for a minute, and promised her I would call her when I made it home. I tossed my phone back into my purse, getting ready to put my key in the car door. As I began to place the key in the door, I was startled by the feeling of being pushed forward. I felt a hand grab onto the back of my blouse, pulling it up as I felt a rush of air pushing me toward the driver’s side door. I began to breathe heavy as I was slammed into the door. The force from being knocked against it hurt my chest; I was dizzy and could hardly breathe. I could feel the hot air coming from behind, and then I heard a low bass voice. I could tell it was a man. The man placed an object in the middle of my back; it felt like a gun. I panicked, as I started to cry. He yelled, “Shut the fuck up! Give me your purse, bitch!” I felt paralyzed for a minute, as my legs felt weak. The man yanked me to my feet saying, “Don’t fuck with me, and bitch! Give me your purse!” I felt the gun pressing against my back even more, almost digging into my blouse. I dropped the purse on the ground crying, “There! Please don’t hurt me.” I felt my body tense up as I braced myself for something to happen. He tried to answer, but before he could, I felt the weight on my back release suddenly. I spun around to see a young man grab the man attacking me. He punched him in stomach and kicked him in the ribs. The man who had attacked me laid on the ground holding his stomach, as the young man yelled, “Now get the hell out of here!” I stood there still shaking, leaning against the car, looking at the young man. I was impressed: he had whipped the other guy’s ass. The man who had attacked me ran off, leaving me with my hero. The young man turned around and walked towards me, knelt down, and picked up my purse off the ground. As he stood up to hand it to me, I looked into his innocent eyes; I was too stunned by his bravery. My heart raced a mile a minute; I could hear ringing in my ears. I paused a moment—my body was still trembling from the ordeal I was just in and I still could not breathe. I looked up at him and then, realizing I had not said a word, I blurted out, “Thank you.” The young man smiled, laughed, and then nodded as he said, “You’re welcome.” He walked closer towards me as he said, “I was walking by and saw that you needed a hand.” I could not help myself; my cheeks felt hot as I smiled back at him. He introduced himself. “I’m Derius Phillips.” I nodded as I replied, “Oh, yes and I am Karla Jacobs. I am pleased to meet you, Darius.” Derius shook his head and pronounced his name for me saying, “No, not Darius. It’s D-e-r-i-u-s—my mom liked the unique spelling so she went with that instead of Darius.” I nodded then laughed. I hate people messing up my name, and here I was, messing up his. Derius smiled, shaking his head and said, “What were you doing out here this late anyway?” I felt very embarrassed because it was rather late. I explained that I was with my friends at the restaurant and that I had arrived late so I got the worst parking spot in the place. Derius laughed; I smiled. I just could not help it; he was too cute. Derius was tall—maybe about 6’2”, athletically built, had a nice smile, beautiful chestnut eyes, and a great grade of hair that was in a small soft afro. He looked like he was about twenty, twenty-five years old. After admiring his physical frame, I looked at him saying, “What are you doing out here?” Derius smiled at me saying, “Out here saving beautiful women from purse thieves.” I raised an eyebrow at him, placing my hands on my hips as I said, “Oh really, so you were sent out here to be my hero, huh?” Then I rolled my eyes at him; he was flirting with his cute self. Laughing and smiling at me, he said, “No really, my boy stays down the way from here. I went over there to play some basketball and it got late so I decided to walk home. Then I saw you and came to help you out.” I nodded, still a little too caught up in how handsome he was as I shook my head I said, “I could give you a ride.” Derius shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay, cool.” We got into my 1999 Honda Civic and left the parking lot. As I drove Derius home I found out that he was still in high school! I gasped as I yelled out, “You are only in the eleventh grade?!”