The angel nipped my neck and scratched my arms, leaving deep canyon-like gashes with blood falling away. I screamed in pain and tried to move, but he was just too strong. From somewhere behind me, I heard a deep growl, and it scared me a little.

  I struggled against the beautiful creature as he pinned me to the ground; I would never admit that I was scared stiff. The sharp point digging into my back hurt more than anything ever had before, and tears ran from my eyes.

  "Get of me." I whispered. I heard Michael's father laugh and felt his foot pressing down on me harder.

  "No." he said shortly, all traces of the humour that had been with him just a moment before gone, then he laughed again. I felt more vulnerable than I had ever felt before; what had I gotten myself into?

  I stole a glance at Michael and saw that he was looking at his feet, at a wall, the ceiling, just not at me. This hurt and it wounded me. Why could he not look at me? Why was he allowing his father to treat me in this way?

  "Michael," I wheezed, knowing that my face showed my pain, "help me, please..."

  "Don't bother," Michael's father said icily, removing the pressure from my back, "No one can help you now, sweetheart." That isn't true, I thought, pleading Michael to do something with my eyes. I only frowned when that dead look continued to linger in his eyes; I feared that his father had finally broken him, and I wondered what other sort of abuse he had endured; He had only just found happiness, and this pig was going to take it away from him.

  "I love you," Michael's voice broke through my sudden depression. If he had simply looked at me it would have been enough, but to say those words caused my heart to flutter erratically inside my chest, "I'll always love you, whatever happens. I will never leave you"

  He gave me only a moment to absorb this unexpected, and welcomed, statement before I heard something that hurt my ears and stung my eyes; he pounced on his father with fists first. The sound of their impact hurt my ears terribly and I clapped my hands to them to even partially block the sounds of blood spilt. I could not stop staring, though.

  I saw the moment that his father lashed out at him, digging his claws into his sons throat. I saw the moment that Michael hit the ground, still and unmoving. I saw the way he looked when he realised what he had done.

  "Michael!" the abashed and ashamed man exclaimed, burying his cut face into the still form.

  Besides the horror, something else was building inside of me, something that was hot, fiery, and burned my insides. This something caused me to weep, I did not like this part of me.

  He never saw me coming, his eyes were only for his dead son, and so, when I hit him, he fell to the floor without a fuss. I was surprised that fire was not coming from my mouth: I was so angry.

  "You bastard!" I screamed, advancing on him with ease, "how could you... how could you... how could you..." I broke off in tears, never quite finishing what I was about to say, because I was drowning in my own tears.

  To say that the suddenly older looking man looked remorseful would be a generous way of describing how he looked. His face held nothing of sadness and regret.

  Maybe it was this alone that caused me to do what I did next, which was to grab the old man by the neck and to shake him.

  Then it occurred to me that the last thing Michael had said did have some merit after all, and was not just a random statement.

I'll always love you, whatever happens.

  He knew that this was going to happen. He knew that he would be killed today. He knew that he would be killed by his own father. He knew that something would separate us. But, I will never leave you?  

  I stared at his unmoving body and sighed, perhaps it was meant to be that he died today.

  I turned back to his father and frowned more deeply, the smugness on his face still the most dominant feature.

  "How could you?" I half hissed, tears daring to escape from my eyes. I really felt a morbid sense of curiosity now, how could he kill his own flesh and blood?

  He didn't answer me; he stared past my shoulder at something behind me. I froze and felt suddenly conscious of the movement. I heard the crack of bones and a sick inducing squelch. I turned around and my eyes popped wide open.

  Michael was moving. Not just moving, he was picking himself off the floor, his wings dripping with fresh blood from his wounds.

  "I'm going to kill you!" he screamed at his only relative, glancing at me and grimacing at my tear stains. He lingered over my face for longer that perhaps he ought to have, and his father took this chance to pounce him again.

  He caught his father by the throat without even looking, because he couldn't keep his eyes off my red rimmed eyes and my dishevelled hair. I was impressed by his agility, but also afraid that he had reawakened as something other than the man I once knew. His eyes were tight when he turned to the now cowering man.

  "Do you have anything to say before I kill you, father?"

  He did not answer, the petrified man smiled, his jaw tight. The silence was unnerving, and I felt the hairs on my arms stand up on end.

  "Only that you've got enemies worse than I stalking you," then he added, sneaking a glare at me, "and your girlfriend."     

Keyword: Heavan Sent

Report this story | Add to Favorites | Send to Friends | Author's Profile

No Comments posted

Comments (2)

Posted by stronger 2008-07-23 08:31:54 .... i think that was the best installment of the series. I loved it, you may want to re-work a few things to make it flow better but otherwise it was great. + Report this comment
Posted by philneale1952 2008-07-23 09:35:00 .... I agree with the first comment, and it's getting better all the time. Phil + Report this comment

Post a comment

Post a comment