Fallen Angel

A short story of a fallen angel that is called back home.

I stay on the ground staring up at the dust floating above my eyelids. The room is dark and a cold draft keeps slamming into my right shoulder. I ignore the goosebumps forming on my forearm and continue to stare at the dust particles and gray wood that caved in at the roof. The end of the wood drips salty water from last night’s rain. My shirt is still damp with wetness from the rain that leaked in. The sky is still covered in a whitish-grey hue, but the sun leaks out from the left side of the hole. The sun ray was the last thing I wanted to see right now, especially after last night’s events. I cover my face from it with my hand, trying to protect myself from the much too bright rays and the peering eyes that come with it.

Daniel is coming. I know it. I attempt to heave my torso up, but the sharp pain in my back made me fall limp again. My back is always hurting, I never talked much about it to anyone but Daniel, on the off chance I casually mentioned it. But the doctors haven’t found anything wrong with my back. ‘I’m probably just not stretching enough,’ they always told me.

I swing my head over to the left, my face is shrouded in the darkness again. In front of me is an old couch that’s shredded to hell, the yellowy cushion insides leaking out like ugly organs. The smell of piss slaps me in the face and I snort through my nose. My ear is wet but as I look to the ground, there is only red. A dark red liquid is formed around me in a small pool, it could’ve easily been mistaken for brown if you didn’t know any better. My back was wet, but my legs felt dry.

I heaved myself up again once more, forcing myself past the agonizing pain in my back that told me to lay down again. I am sitting up right but I don’t move. Now my left cheek, forehead, and shoulder felt the gooey liquid oozing down. I’m sure it was in my hair too, and my back was painfully moist. I could smell myself now and wished I hadn’t. Sweat, and the smell of outdoors lingered on me. I suddenly was conscience of the loud huffs that escaped my lips, the sweat had mostly formed on my legs and stomach. A mouse squeaks and scurries past the wall across from me, hiding behind a broken bookshelf.

I wander around the empty building. At first I was nervous that crack heads might ambush me here, but it seems like even they aren’t around anymore. I try my best to step around the broken glass decorating the dusty floor, but I feel my feet itching. The blankets on the ground are small, with cute animals and bright colors on them, but they are also grey and ugly from the dust. The hallway leading to the more empty back rooms are charred black. The back door is burned to hell, there was no going back there. I feel safe in the darkness and consider staying here forever, alone just like this. But that’s not possible, they’d still find me even in a place like this.

“Hello?!” A voice urgently calls.

I slip into the room nearest to me. It’s pitch black because it’s windows are boarded up.

“Anyone here?! Camille!” Shut up Daniel. I’m dead, didn’t you read the suicide note?

I hear him step into the room further away and stop.

“Aw hell.” I hear him mumble, his voice is close to cracking.

I expected him to accept it. That I really did kill myself and that he should leave. I pray that he doesn’t call the police and wait for them here. But aw hell, who am I kidding? I was never suicidal. There are slow, deliberate steps away from the room, and past the front door. Each one gets louder and louder before stopping right by mine. The door isn’t closed, but the side of my arm is barely hidden by the wall.

“Cami-”

The floor beneath me squeaks and suddenly gives out. The loud crack of the wood makes me cringe, and my eyes snap close as I brace for the impact of the second floor. It doesn’t come. I’m floating just above the cracked wood, and my ears are invaded with a steady beat of woosh-ing air. Daniel stares at me, the white feathers working in a steady pace, pushing up and down, up and down. Blood is splattering off of them, but they are still stained with red.

Daniel’s eyes are wide and for a long moment, he says nothing. I am just floating above him, staring. I wait for him to freak out, to think this isn’t real and that he should run away right now and never look back. It’s all just a bad dream.

His arm extends and his fingers spread wide. I take his hand and am pulled into him. His scent invades my nose, and his chest engulfs me. His arms push me so close to his chest that I suddenly feel very sheepish about my large bust size. His hands wrap around my back, one hand clenches my shoulder, the other on the base bone of my wing. His grip is so tight I thought about asking him where he thought I was going.

Daniel’s face is buried in my neck, I feel the warmth of his breath and am very embarrassed at how his greedy breaths have to endure my musky sweat smell. He doesn’t say anything, but when he lunges backwards and drags me back to a more stable ground, I just follow and listen to the wood whine in protest.

The sun has fully risen and the birds screech their god forsaken alarm again. The sun rays are leaking all throughout the roof, and I want to tell Daniel that we are seen. I look up at him, and he’s already staring at me. Before I part my lips, his lips crash down on mine. He squeezes me tighter again as his thin lips attempt to taste every corner on my thick mouth. I want to pull away. I tell my body to break free, but I don’t. Instead my body is limp for a long time as he keeps pulling me closer and closer up against him, the boy might as well be a damn cobra.

But then I forget everything. I forget how awful I smell or how the blood staining my back is getting on his arms or how I should’ve warned him about the red blood that can’t be visible against my dark skin. My arms wrap around his neck and I dive my fingers into his dark curls. And I kiss him. For a long moment time stands still and we are just making out in a f*****g abandoned building.

It seems to last forever until we both pull away for air. Daniel’s arms are limp and I take this moment to step away from him. Daniel’s shirt and arms are smeared crimson, and his lower torso is caked brown with dirt.

I look at the ground, “I’m -”

“I don’t care. I came here for you, and only you.”

I don’t say anything. I feel Daniel’s stare boring into me as we listen to the birds, and car lurches past outside.

Again, he pulls me towards him, except he keeps our arms apart. My chest is pressed against his and I want to tell him to stop.

“Come with me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Angels are meant to be pure, untouched, clean, innocent. The council will be coming for me soon to review my case hearing about this little kiss. About every little kiss. About every moment I’ve ever shared with Daniel ever. About just how much I really want him, even though I can’t have him.

. . .   At least not in this way, not in this lifetime.

“Camille,” Daniel’s voice is a low mumble again.

My attention is his now and I stare at him with wide eyes, hoping that the shade was enough to hide my blushing face. I don’t think he will be able to see it.

“I love you.”

“… .” I don’t move, dumbly staring at him with my slightly parted lips.

“We can’t -” Thin lips against mine. Daniel is probably even more passionate than the last time.

His chin pulls back ever so slightly, so we breath into each other’s mouths.

“I love you,” he presses his lips to mine again.

He pulls back, “I love you,” he presses his lips to mine again.

He pulls back, “I love you,” he presses his lips to mine again.

He pulls back, “I love you,” he presses his lips to mine again.

He does it about a hundred more times, until my senses are overwhelmed and my judgement is impaired.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

The salty tears drip down to my mouth. His hands are cupping my cheeks to make sure I don’t move away. I’m whimpering now, crying ever so quietly.

“I love you too,” I finally whisper to him.

“But I can’t continue to love you.”