Lost Love of an Angel

Read at your own discretion. Warning: this is tragedy.

   I love Shaman. So much, sometimes my heart hurts. I love him that much. And I know he loved- or at least really liked me too. Sometimes he'd get this strange look on his face, a slight smile and completely contented.

   I knew he had some problems and a past, but I looked past that. I loved completely and totally. I accepted the good and the bad, after all, without the bad there can't be bad and without the good there can't be bad. I loved him.

   He was so sweet, almost innocent though I knew he was far from it. And I knew he was only that way with me. It was an open secret that he was a gang leader's son, and that he was one of the best in his families "trade". But when he was with me, he held me delicately, as if I was a piece of precious, irreplaceable treasure. Though he occasionally kissed my hands or cheeks, he never actually kissed me. He was afraid of 'staining' me.

   I loved that boy.

   Whoever said that a broken heart stings at first then becomes stronger is an idiot. My heart was shattered, it can never become whole again and it is held together with bandages not meant for healing.

   I couldn't talk for a month after he left me, I still find it hard. Everything was gray and dismal and painful and completely, irrevocably wrong without him by my side.

   For that month all I could do was cry and cry I did. I  would cry myself to sleep and when I woke my cheeks would wet because I had dreamt  of him and when I woke he wasn't there. All I did was stare  out the window at the spot where he left me, tears running silently down my face.

   What I lived on that month was bottled water and lukewarm tea. It was all I could force down. I literally couldn't make myself eat: I couldn't swallow food and if I could, within seconds I would puke it all up.

   When I finally could eat, I left my sanctuary of hell. And went on a rampage. I got rid of almost everything I owned: all my pictures; gone the toy animals, dolls, my clothes. Everything. I burned it all in a bonfire, watching solemnly as the flames licked every lost memory, every childish dream that left me broken,every hope I had for the future. All reduced to ashes. Empty once again, a blank slate.

   And then I changed, more than I had already, I could no longer be the girl I once was, long, long ago. My room, the shade shade of blue that colored the sky and dreams, turned black as night. Goodbye sweet daydreams, welcome the nightmares. The innocence was gone, besides, he helped me pick and paint my room this color, this sweet innocent shade of blue was his favorite color.

   And goodbye the hair he loved as well, my pale white blonde hair. He claimed it made me look like an angel. Does that make me a fallen angel? It must because I fell from his love and grace. My angel hair changed to black, black as ash and soot, just as the wings of angels did as they fell from heaven into hell.

   I think I know how those angels felt as they fell from the love they wanted. No the love they needed, so desperately needed. The love that anchored them to their sanity.

   Without that sanity, even heaven can seem like hell. The dark, the pain, the screaming. The pain left with red, the dark with lights, and the screaming with insomnia. Did you know that sanity can be fixed with a trip to the shrink and a handful pills. Two pills in the morning makes school and life bearable.

   I don't know if not seeing hurts more than if I do or less. Seeing him makes life seem bearable, sanity closer, but seeing him makes my chest- my heart- convulse and it becomes impossible to eat. So I avoid him. As much as it hurts not to see him, I'm in hundredfold more so in seeing his beautiful face.

   But when I heard my name escaping his lips, I can't stay away, unable to turn away from listening to a conversation of his with another. I stand outside a classroom door, listening to the musicality of the  way he speaks, the way my name falls from his lips like a sigh.

  "I love her," He says, softly, as if not wanting to admit such a fact, "I love Nanami so much, much more than she'd ever know. So much I almost can't stand it."

   I blushed and leaned up against the wall next to the door, heart fluttering like a butterfly beating itself against a cage, frantically, afraid, overjoyed... tumultuous feelings crashing against each other in dissonance.

   "But I'm not the right man for her," He spits out bitterly, and I want to disagree, he was the only one for me. "I can't make her happy and there's no way she can love the son of a mobster..."

   "Really?" The other boy said, "She always seemed so happy around you, before you know, you, uh-"

   "Left her?" Shaman fills in, harsh.

   "Yes, before that. She locked herself up in her room for a month after that, you know."

   "Rumors," He scoffed, "Every one knows that she was extremely sick and lost her voice."

   So the story did go around the block, I never knew that. My parents covered it up so I wondered if anybody knew.

   "Her parents hid the truth because they couldn't do anything- nobody could. Che couldn't or refused to eat." The boy pauses, "And when she could, she came back a skeleton- no, a zombie. Sometimes, when somebody would talk to her, it was like she couldn't hear them, just watched their lips move. Other times, she'd open her mouth to talk and no sound would come out."

   I remember those times, before people started to avoid me, still talked to me. They didn't after a while, they pretended I didn't exist any longer.

   "And," The boy continues his speech, "Didn't it make you happy when she came back? Don't you still want her by your side?"

   "NO!" Shaman yells, waits a moment, quieter when he continues. "No, it's better for her to be away from me and for me to be away from her. And sometimes..." The last part comes away as a whisper, so soft I almost miss it.

   "Sometimes what?" The other boy prods.

   It takes Shaman a moment to speak and when he does, I have to lean into the doorway to listen. "Sometimes it hurt to be near her," He pauses, and his voice is barely above a whisper, smaller yet, softer, "It hurt because she loved me, imperfect me. All my faults. Sometimes I wanted to be free of her, you know? Free from her love, from her acceptance..."

   "But you're not. You're still haunted by it."

   The bird within my chest is dead. Bloody feathers lying in the bottom of the cage, broken, irreparable. I run.

   I can't stop running, not until I reach my sanctuary. And that's when it hits me. I still want him to love me. He can't love me. I hurt him. I hurt Shamen. I can't hurt Shamen. But I did. How...? How did it become this way? When did it become this way for him? I'd do anything for him- die, live, anything, everything. I would become god for that boy. But I hurt him.

   I hurt. I hurt him. My already shattered heart has been crushed. Lit on fire. How could I do such a thing to him? How could I cause him pain?

   I hide in my room, crying, bleeding, screaming. What can I do to right the wrong I've given him. How can I kill my feelings for him when I kills me to- but what if it kills him instead? Can I rid myself of the feelings I have for him, really, truly, surely? Can I? Can I do it?

   Burn them, I'll burn my feelings. If I burn my feelings, will I still feel them? Rid him of them? I'll do it, act like I'm unaffected by this pain, act as if I don't love him.

   I riffle through my desk drawers frantically, trying to find something to write with and on. I find stationary and a pen. I pull a piece of paper out of the box and a heavier, smaller piece falls to the floor of my bedroom. I pick it up, ready to throw it back into the box, place deep within the desk again when I see what is printed on the one side. A picture, words dotting the frame of the Polaroid. A stupid boy and girl, deeply madly in love, smiling bright smiles, confessing their love for one another. "Shamen X Nanami 4ever". Me and him, never forever in love. An angel and her god, never the 'twain shall meet.

   I could do anything for that boy, anything, everything, live or die, but I cannot rid myself of love for him. I'll love him forever, live or...die.

   Two letters for one love that can never die.

   Two letters, an ocean of tears, and one broken heart.

    

   

   "Mail for you."

   Shamen turns to look at his father, "Really?"

   "Yup."

   Shamen grabs the letter from his father, a slight smile crossing his face when he sees the familiar handwriting. He heads down the hall to his bedroom, throws himself down on his bed before sliding his finger beneath the flap of the envelope, his finger catching slightly and draws blood. He pulls the piece of paper out of the envelope and sucks on his bleeding finger gently as he reads his letter.

   His slight excitement turns to terror quickly. He turns it over, trying to find unseen words, trying to find a reason for those senseless words. The paper must be lying, it must be...

   He jumps to his feet, grabs his phone, dials a number but when there is no reply, only voicemail, he runs out his door. He races down the path he knows so well, flies to the place that is more dear to him than his own heart. He comes to a dead stop in the back yard, seeing the police, news trucks, an ambulance, and crowds of people flocking the front yard of her house.

   He walks up to the house and when he is stopped by a police officer, her mother sees and tells him to come in. He walks through the door, remembering that precious girl, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her hair, the twinkle in her eyes when she grinned... 

   His angel. Dead. Why? How could she...? Nanami. His love, his life, is dead. How could she die.

   Nanami's mother, the mother of his angel, leads him into the house and sits him down at the kitchen table. The room is too bright, too many people, too sunny to fit with the shock of her... 

   His angel, his angel. Why? Why? Why did she do such a thing?Why...

   He begins to crumble, the shock setting in. Reality doesn't paint a pretty picture, not for him, not for her, not ever. His angel is gone, with only two letters explaining why she went. Too many unanswered questions, questions she can no longer answer, explain.

   A cup of coffee is placed within his hands, the world humming around him, humming with conversation, words he cannot understand. The world is standstill, nothing cannot be happening, life cannot go on without his angel... but it does. He still breathes. The world is not broken without her while his heart is dying because she is no longer with him. 

   A not is placed in front of him, same stationary, same handwriting as the one he received before his broke down. He sets the cup down, gently pulls the letter from the envelope and begins to read.

Nanami Rose Hope- Last Will And Testament

   First off- I am so sorry to you all but... it can't be helped. I can no longer stay here and cause the one I love pain.

   Second-All my earthly possessions. I don't care who gets what, material objects do not matter. 

   Third- To Shamen Henry Funk: I give you all my love. I'm sorry. I will give you only pain, but I cannot relinquish you. I give you the love that will only cause you pain, unrequited love, the shadow you can now be free from. I'm sorry I cannot stop loving you. I'm so, so sorry.

   The letter falls from Shamen fluttery grasp, unable to accept her words. She could not... she would not... why?

Why would she think... Everything is broken, gray, distorted, unneeded. Why should he still... No... No, no, no... no... why... It cannot be real, be true... it must be a lie... his angel...

   He stares at his shaking hands, trembling fingers, presses the numb limbs to his eyes as he begins to sob. His angel... his angel... why, his angel, why... why did you do such a thing... it should not be true... it could not be true... right?

    He pulls the letter from his pocket, the picture enfolded within the soft creases from the pocket, the sharp perfect angles from her folding the paper.

   He looks at the picture, of them, blushing and holding hands. The day they both said they loved each other. The best day of his life. He cries harder, he'll never hold her hand again, kiss the top of her angel wing head. Never see her outside his dreams and pictures. His angel is gone, never to return, his beloved angel. His one and only love.

   He reads his letter, the one that came with the letter, addressed to him.

   Dear Shamen, my dear, sweet Shamen...

Oh, how I love you. I'm sorry that I love you, so sorry.This is the second to last time that I'll ever tell you so if it hurts so much. I'm sorry I hurt you with my love. Could you ever forgive me? Can what I've done suffice? If not, I'm sorry, there's not much more that I could do for you. I'm sorry Shamen, I'm sorry for hurting you, so sorry... But I can't stop, I can't fall out of love with you. I'm sorry...

                           Nanami R. Hope

   He weeps even harder, weeps for his lost angel, his undeserving angel. She did not deserve what happened to her, did not not need to feel the guilt that she did. He still loved her, his lost angel, even after leaving her. He only wanted her to be happy. And now look what has happened, his angel is gone, too sad, too lost to stay in the realm of mortals.

   Shamen gives the letter to her parents, and they cry even harder, seeing him in pain gives them no relief, they don't want to see him in pain, not like the pain their only child suffered through.

   He, the boy that she always loved, stares into the mug of coffee, lukewarm and bitter. Time passes and hi cup is never empty. He looks at the bright, bright sunny wall and thinks of all the mistakes he made. All the what-ifs, could've, would've, should'ves and cries even harder, the tears sliding down his face and into his coffee.

   They, her parents, let him see her room, that black pit of sorrow. The place where her soul was stolen. But, no, he thinks, goes over to the window and looks out to the spot he doesn't know she spent so much time staring out at. That is where her soul was stolen, or at least broken. This is where it was released. I'm the one that broke her heart, the one who crushed her soul, drove her to do this.

   A fresh wave of grief and self-hatred washes over him.

   

   I'm the one who killed her.

  LOCAL TEENAGER OVERDOSES

Seventeen year old Nanami Rose Hope was discovered early Saturday morning, after her parents received her suicide letter through the mail...

 

Author's Note

I'm sorry if I did poorly on this, I wrote this several years ago at about three in the morning. Please critique.