Angel.

Boy tries to save his unrequited love from a suicidal episode but fails sending them both off a bridge to their death. He wakes up. She doesn't.

Angel

                He ran to the car as fast as he could. His clumsy hands fumbled with the keys for a moment as he tried to jam them into the door without looking. He was tense and shaky. He tried to start the car as he got in but the decrepit ignition was too stubborn to give in simply because the circumstances demanded speed. He gave it some gas, tried again and after a few seconds, the engine roared to life. He threw the car into reverse and slammed on the gas, backing out of his driveway. The tires screeched as they slid a little on the newly paved road. Back into drive, the car sped forward as fast as the 12-year-old cylinders could push it. He was going 60 in a 25 zone but cops rarely monitored this street and he couldn’t stop for them if they did. He took a right, speeding up rather than slowing down. After 2 agonizingly long minutes, he finally came to the bridge. He skidded to a stop; then ran out to where she was standing. She looked back at him with a little sorrow, or apology, or regret, or some other pained expression he couldn’t distinguish. He called out her name, but in vain. Right before he reached her, she leaned forward and let go of the bars. He tried to grab her hand. In fact, he did get a very slight grip on it, but when she turned her head to look at him, he realized that his feet were no longer on the ground. Her face now had an obvious expression: terror. They fell in slow motion towards the unsympathetic rocks beneath them. It was strange. His last thought before he hit the ground was how gorgeous she looked as the sun shone through her curly, blonde hair, igniting it; how her grey eyes released all of the secrets that put her here; how she looked less fragile now that she was about to be broken. Then their bodies crashed to the ground landing next to each other, coming to a stop with her bloody head facing her feet and his hand on her heart. The rocks had little streams of red flowing down them. Oddly enough, neither person had appendages sticking out at strange angles. It looked as if they simply decided to have a bloody nap and they found the perfect spot with the bridge covering them like a blanket.

                It was dark when he woke up. And she didn’t. He looked down at his body and saw that every time there was a trail of blood, there was no laceration or injury of any kind from which it could come. He looked at the girl beside him and saw that the shiny, crimson liquid that traveled down her face still had a clear starting point. Her blonde hair was matted with dark, congealed blood. Her eyes, half open, were evidence that she was not going to heal as he had. “No,” he said audibly. “No; no-no-no-no NO!” He slowly rose to his feet, but once he was up, he just wanted to collapse again. Instantly, he dropped to his knees and remembered. He saw the tree, covered in green leaves, where they used to sit at the base and eat lunch every day in middle school. He saw her bright green room, the orange light switch for the orange lamp, the wall covered in vinyls, band posters, pictures, paintings, ticket stubs, notes, and film strips. He saw her sitting on the floor next to her low bed fidgeting with the ear of a stuffed dog that looked a little worn with the nose missing. He heard her talk about a boy; how he made her happy and how he made her sad. He heard her trying to explain why there were scars on her arms. He also saw the beach, where they went with a group of friends and had a bonfire. He saw her shiver, and put on his hoodie over her swimsuit. He saw her in the car on the way home, sitting backwards without her seatbelt so she could face him. He saw her room again. Devoid of life with a hand-written note on the wall that said, “I can’t take it anymore. I’m at the bridge.” He bent low over his knees and cried. His face was blotchy. His eyes were puffy. His nose was runny. His ears were ringing. His heart was breaking. She was his best friend, and she just leapt of the bridge like she expected to fly. On top of that, the wrong person woke up. It should have been her that was allowed to live. He should be the one still on the ground with the open wounds.

                He started to feel a pain in his back. It wasn’t much at first, but it grew slowly. He ignored it at first, but soon he was writhing on the ground. The pain wouldn’t go away. The ringing in his ears got louder and louder until it was all he could hear. Then, all of a sudden, giant wings erupted from his skin spreading as wide as they could which was easily 6 feet on either side. The pain was now at its maximum intensity but was slowly going down. He was scared out of his wits. At first, he thought it was some illusion, or delusion. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought. But the pain, still shooting from every nerve in his back, protested against this theory. By instinct he knew exactly how to move them in any way he wanted. He flapped them once, but left the ground only for a moment. He flapped them again harder and got a little further. He looked at them curiously. It was like someone had given him a birthday present at a funeral. He flapped the wings hard going up, and flapped again to stay aloft. He went higher and higher, bobbing a little. After he went high enough, he swooped down in a tight circle until he was back where he started. He decided something then. He looked down at the girl lying on the ground. He had never told her that he loved her. He never told her that he would take care of her better than any of the other guys she thought she loved. With that thought, there was a new pain in his chest, like his heart would literally break in half. He had to leave. He couldn’t take her to the hospital now. His shirt had come off when the wings came in, so now he was half-naked with huge, white wings. People would notice if he simply flew by. Besides, she was already dead anyway. He looked down at her and wished that his love could open her eyes; that he could pump her blood; that he could heal her wounds. With a little effort, he looked away, up at the clouds. Just as it was starting to rain, he flew up above the clouds. Then he leaned forward and propelled himself forward as fast as he could go. Above him, the stars were brighter than he had ever seen before. They reminded him of the light that reflected off of her eyes when she was about to cry. Now she was gone forever. He heard thunder in the clouds below him and his tears mixed in with the raindrops. While he flew, he noticed something happening to him. All of a sudden, he felt stronger on the outside. All the muscles in his body grew to the point where he was not a hulk-like freak but he could no longer be described as thin or lanky. His skin got tanner until he looked like an over-worked lifeguard. His hair changed from a light blonde to a dark brown. His eyes went from an indecisive hazel to a bright blue. He thought that maybe if these changes had occurred when she was alive, she would have loved him too. Beyond that, he didn’t care. He flew for hours with grey clouds beneath him the entire time, but the stars above him never seemed so bright before. It was like he could see their fire trying desperately to have their light reach him. Soon, the sun started to rise behind him, and won the silent competition between the stars. When it was almost directly, above him, he started to feel the night before. Every muscle in his body, including the new ones in his wings, ached like nothing else he had ever felt before. His eyes were still puffy and red from crying. He dropped below the clouds, decreasing his intense speed. There were a lot of fields and forests. There were also a great deal of orange orchards, so he guessed with what little cohesive thought he had left that he was over southern California. His altitude gradually decreased more and more until he was just gliding over a thick forest. Once he saw a clearing, he spiraled down to the ground and sprawled out on the ground without a proper landing. There, he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

                While he slept, he dreamt. He opened his eyes and saw a path in front of him. There was a sign there that read, “This is it”. He started to walk down the path, but then he heard a noise. It was a girl’s voice. “Hello?” He turned around to face the girl, but there was nothing there. Instead, he saw where his road started. He went back, and he saw them all. There were roads leading off in every direction. They each had a different sign. “Happiness,” one said. “Life,” said the other. “Freedom,” said another one that led up to the sky. Then, he saw the one he was looking for. He didn’t know that he was looking for it, but now that he could see it, he knew that it was the one he went there to find. “Love,” it said. The two streets next to it were Fear and Deception. Staying careful not to step on either of those roads, he started walking down the path of Love. After a while, there were two forests; one on either side of the street. The air looked as if rain had been falling for a thousand years and the water had finally begun to evaporate off of the ground. The stiff air started to get thicker and soon it was dark. Suddenly, he remembered, he didn’t have to be walking because he had wings. He stretched them out and they were about the size of the road on which he traveled. Propelling himself off of the ground, he glided along, a couple yards off of the ground. Soon, he became impatient. He flew up to get a higher perspective, but there was a problem. No matter how high he went, the trees around him were always taller. He couldn’t see much through the fog anyway, so it was all futile. He flew along again, gaining speed, when he saw ahead of him, a part of the road that had not been paved yet. Though there was a dirt road in place, it was overgrown and covered in weeds. He landed at that point and saw before him, the unknown. One step took him miles deeper than he thought, but with one step, he could return to the paved road. He made the decision to take the step. Then another. That’s when it caught his eye. Right beside him, about a foot from the ground, there was a lightning bug. It lit up and the fog around it quickly dissipated. When the light went out, the fog regained its footing and tried to choke the lightning bug, but the firefly simply lit itself up once more and the fog retreated once more. This went on for a couple seconds before another one appeared a yard in front of him. He took a step towards it, revealing two more fireflies. Another step; three more. Four more steps; two more. Soon he could no longer see the paved road, but there were lightening bugs all around him that shone through the fog. The fog was getting angrier. It grew restless and impatient. Then he couldn’t see it. The fog simply disappeared. The fireflies seemed to know that something was wrong and prepared for the worst. From behind the trees on his right side, there came a dark figure. He was the embodiment of fog and there were others like him emerging out of the darkness. When a firefly approached and lit up, the light was swallowed by the shadowy soldiers. The rest of the lightning bugs retreated into their side of the woods and the darkness took dominion. Just as the black fingers were reaching out to take him, a single firefly came out from hiding. It started to glow brighter and brighter until it became a spark. It hopped to the ground and settled there until it had enough energy that the grass beneath it caught alight. A little flame started to grow. Wherever it went, the dark soldiers could not stay. The fire grew and grew, then took on a strange course toward him. It moved until it encircled him. The grass that was set on fire did not wither and die as it should have. Rather, it stayed exactly the same. When it encircled him, he did not feel pain or burning. He felt warmth and light. The fire moved from him, back to the trees. One caught on fire and when the flames spread up to the branches, the torch shared its light with the trees around it.   The whole forest on that side of the road lit up with flames that shot up into the sky. The darkness was driven back to its own side, but soon the soldiers returned, pressing with all their strength. From the fire, a new army came up covered in flames. He saw them battle with the soldiers of the dark and the individual fights went both ways. Then, all of a sudden, there came out from the trees death itself. When it approached all fighting stopped. It started to come towards him. He could feel it suffocating him from yards away. It reached out to him and another soldier stepped up from the other army. It was bigger than the rest of them; stronger. It stepped toward death, which stood its ground. It reached out to death. As soon as the fire touched death’s robes, it backed away. It threw up its hands and screeched. Surrender wasn’t good enough for the fire though. It reached out again, and so did the other soldiers, to the soldiers of death. The fire started to cross the road jumping from weed to weed until it reached the dark, foggy trees. There, it stopped and all the soldiers melted into flames and dust. Before the fire could reach death, it ran back into its forest like a coward. He watched as the warrior of the fire army took a few steps closer to him. The fire had protected him and he felt that he should do something in return, but he couldn’t think of what. Then he realized, looking at the warrior, that it was not the shape of a male, but rather of a girl. She reached up to her helmet and pulled it off slowly. When it was all the way off, he still could not see her face because it was so bright. And he woke up.

His vision was blurry for a couple seconds and there wasn’t much light, but, blinking a few times, he realized that he was in the room of some old, but well managed house. The walls were painted white and there was a fire blazing in the fireplace across the room. He was on a small bed lying on his side with his wings behind him. There was a handmade quilt laid over him. The door was on the wall closest to his feet, and there was a window on the one closest to his head. Other than the hearth, the only other piece of furniture was the dresser next to the hearth. It was antique wood that had been worn on the edges and around the handles but still shone on the rest of its surfaces. He heard the doorknob jiggle and became briefly anxious until he thought about the face that they had already moved him here from a clearing in the woods, so they had to at least be a little nice. The door opened and in walked a girl, maybe younger than him by a year or so. She had straight, red hair, not like Irish red, but a color more like a red rose. Her eyes were bright even though they were a dark brown. Her smile was perfect and innocent. She walked over like she was floating and came to a stop next to his bed. Her weight was on the balls of her feet like she was about to run to her hiding spot as soon as you close your eyes and start counting to fifty. “Hi,” she said sweetly and happily. She had a bowl full of cool water and a cloth, which she dipped in the water, wrung out, and applied to his forehead. The water washed off the sweat that had accumulated during his dream and replaced it with relief. “I’m Elisabeth. Just call me ‘El’ though. What’s your name?” she asked.

“Alex,” he replied.

“Well I’m going to take good care of you, Alex,” she said.

He tried to get up, but the pain in his wings and his back protested fiercely. He let out a grunt. “Where does it hurt?” she asked.

“My back,” he said. Then she sat on the bed next to him and placed her hand on his back. Instantly, he felt heat spread all over his body, loosening up all of the tight muscles. He pushed himself up and succeeded this time.

“Better?”

“Better.”