• Weak and Powerless



    Chapter One: Wretched



    I wonder where I'm going. What's going to happen to me? I'm so unsure of myself. I'm so bright, so vibrant and happy. But as of lately, I've been sick with anger. It damns me to this wretched hate. But she started it....
    Usually I keep my cool, but after that day, I've been cursed with nightmares; cursed with visions of death and blood, and violent fantasy...


    XXX



    "I know." I laughed, full lips drawn into a rich smile. I reached up, pushing the tendril of brown hair back behind my ear- making my dangling silver earrings chime as I did so.

    "Yeah, well he's a flirt anyways." Bethany chuckled. "I swear my boyfriend looks like he's twelve or something, he acts so immature." She had an elegantly structured face, with big blue eyes framed by long bodily blond hair, and strong high cheeks. Bethany was and is, one of my best friends.

    A girl slid by, long hair brushing across my shoulder. I pulled my legs inwards towards the bus seat to avoid touching her- since she was easily annoyed- and turned back to Bethany, laughing. Jessy stopped, turning to look at us both with a look of eager irritation and threat.

    "You laughin' at my bookbag?" She mocked angrily.

    "Nope." I said, watching her. As she turned, she spoke again.

    "Betta' not be, I'll ******** you up."

    As soon as she got off, Beth rolled her eyes, letting out a string of curses.
    "How do you keep your calm Anis?" I shook my head.

    I don't.



    XXX


    I turned, messing the covers in my restless fashion as I stared at the wall. Long and off-white. It looked almost like a tan color. But it was dazzled with tiny pictures of Asian artwork. Mostly dragons. I loved dragons.
    I loved dragons because of their power. Their courage. They could never be weak. They destroy and reign powerful. They are monsters and geishas in both fashions of beauty and terror. I wish I had that kind of ability... But now, I can only dream these horrid visions that make me want to take back that wish. To bury it and never let it be real again.

    "Fear in me so deep it gets the best of me,
    In the fear I fall, here it comes face to face with me,
    Here I stand hold back so no one can see,
    I feel these wounds, step down, step down,
    step down.    "


    Strange, that I could find comfort in those lyrics. A heavy-ish song by TRUSTcompany. One of their older singles.

    Taking a deep breath, I turned yet again, facing the wall that was against my bed. Tiny little lines etched into it where I had begun to scratch the walls in my sleep. Were my dreams so horrifying? Of course they were, why else was I afraid to sleep... Ah yes, the fear driving us all.

    Closing my eyes, I couldn't bear it anymore. I couldn't just avoid my dreams because they were frightening. I had school tomorrow, I had to sleep. It was already one in the morning. I had to sleep. Had to....

    And so I slept...



    XXX



    "Come on." The girl said. She was cold. Hard. Violent. I had already been cut by her. I should've known better, everyone warned me she kept a razor on her at all times. But I didn't listen. I was weak. I was ignorant of my anger.

    A throaty growl rose from my chest as I tried to stand, but she was too fast, slicing towards my neck. I yanked my head back, trying to weave away from her. But I couldn't. Instead, I only forced the razor to my face, cutting down my cheek. I could feel the icy winter air against the blood causing chills to roll down my battered body. How could I lose? Was it because every time I rose to strike, her boyfriend was there to rip me back and make me fall?

    I finally got up, up to my knees at least. She was laughing so hard, telling me that it was what I got. That I should've been smarter.

    That's when I got angry...

    "You think I'm done?" The voice was not my own. Deeper, more feminine and threatening. Just the tone was a great admonishment to the juvy-prone teenager and her boyfriend.

    I brought my legs up, and her boyfriend, a tall and generously muscled white boy with shaggy blond hair, took a pistol from his belt line. I shook my head. They wouldn't...
    Would they?

    Firing three shots, my ears were deafened. My body screamed a soprano static, knees buckling and blood spilling. My mind slowly dulled the pain away, leaving only the hollow composition of death.

    That was it. When things got odd. The laughter of the maniacal girl Jessy seemed to make me insane. Burning and pounding into my ears, helping ring through the solace of silence that was impending death. The heat of my body, the fire of my core, was slowly trickling out of the holes riddled into my chest and stomach. Everything was getting colder. Darker. Where was my life going? Was it over? Was my purpose just to die?

    Darkness seemed to sweep around, like a storming haze of black angels. I felt hands, so many hands, long and bony, touching me over the wounds. Fiery hands. So warm, so inviting. Persuasive. Who were they? No, what were they?

    As the long fingers and hands (some bare and some draped in ragged fingerless gloves) dragged themselves across the bullet wounds, I felt the blood stop. I felt as though there were some invisible wall over my wounds, keeping what little life was in me... well... in me...

    The dark angels moved their hands over my arms, and long strings of black began to form, wrapping around my arms. The slender shape of my arms were lifted with the strings, as though I were being made a puppet... Had the laughing stopped? I wish I could see what was happening. Was this God's angels coming to retrieve me to Heaven? Or was this the carriage to Hell?

    After moments, a large thundering boom slammed through my body. My heart. Had it stopped? Why hadn't I noticed? The sound was loud- thick in my ears. Another, and another. I could feel a hand on my back, and another on my front, squeezing together to create the rhythm. Was I being resuscitated?

    Suddenly, I moved. My body lifted off of the ground completely. I was standing. No, levitating. These angels had lifted me, pulling my strings. A warm hand brushed my eyes, a breath becoming tangible in my ear. My eyes opened, my ears left the silent static, and I was hearing the screams. Jessy's screams. Did she see them? She sounded close.

    And she was. I couldn't feel her throat under my palm, but it was there. The black strings were barely visible, and moving me with such beautiful precision, and terrible rage.

    My hand snapped to the left. Such a subtle movement, but I had yanked Jessy like a ragdoll, throwing her against a tree. She screamed, soon the sound being muffled by her gargling on a bit of blood that began to effervesce from her lips. She sputtered blood, and I was in awe of what my body was doing.

    Another warm breath in my ear. These were no angels. Who were they? Why were they going to kill her?

    I can't think of it. Because I owe them my life. They're saving me...

    My hand snapped away, letting her drop. It was that moment, that something happened that I could not comprehend. Something that I was unsure of. Was it real? I could feel her body writhing beneath me. I leaned forward, my hand on the side of her face. Her skin was boiling beneath my touch, becoming charred, dry, and burnt. I could feel her skin deteriorate, down to nothing but her dry bone. Her screams were so loud. Even then, I could hear the simmering blood bubbling in her veins.

    My hand was moved down her face, to her neck and arm, over her chest where her heart was. Force began to apply itself, my fingers digging in. Her screams grew louder. Ever-so-louder. Her body shook and trembled, and her face bled small flecks of blood and clear liquid from the black burnt wound clinging to the bones of her cheek and jaw.

    Fingers digging in, her skin steamed up. Slowly, I burrowed my fingers into her chest. Sliding through her ribs, until her frantic heart was beating crazily underneath my grip. The feel of it was astonishing, and sorrowful. The beating grew heavier, her screams a nonstop pitch. Her heart expanded, and collapsed, thrusting back into a width, only to shrink back again. So warm, and slowly failing. It began to shrink, began to burn. Slowly becoming nothing in my hand.

    Her writhing slowed, eyes falling shut. Her breathing became inaudible. Her heart was dead. I lifted my hand, staring at the fresh ashes that was her now cremated heart.

    Turning my head a bit, flicking rich hazel eyes upwards, I saw them. Long willowy black wings looking riddled with holes and featherless spots, some spots crusted with blood. The tall and wiry bodies, shadowed in dark tones and shadow. And bright eyes, trying to hide by looking down.

    The strings disappeared from my body, and one of the shadowy angels stepped forward.

    "We are not saviors. We are vengeance."