I pace around the living room, anxiously glancing at the clock. It’s 8 pm and my little brother hasn’t come home yet.

I’m worried about him, thinking if he had an accident outside, or if he met someone who took advantage of him.

He’s still my baby, no matter how old he gets. I breathe out in annoyance, and grab my phone, about to call him. But then I hear the door open and he walks in.

“Baby, are you okay? Why are you so late?” I question him, expecting an honest answer while examining his body.

If he went out with someone, I’ll break them up. He only belongs to me in him life.

If he had trouble or someone made him angry, they’d pay for it. No one can hurt my baby.