I'll Be Your Guardian Soul Instead

Chapter 2 - Strong, in a sense

I wanted to ask Gabe why I was haunting this house but I couldn’t change the topic even if I made it obvious that I wanted to.

“Come on, it’s not that hard to admit. It’s not like she can hear us.” He said. Oh, men. I hate my guardian angel.

“I don’t like-like her let alone love-love her. That’s impossible.” I said, crossing my arms. We were still beside her, and she doesn’t even notice one bit that we’re here.

 “You don’t seem to change one bit, Free.”  Gabe chuckles.

“Don’t call me that. It’s weird.”

“Why? Isn’t it my right as a guardian angel to call my kid by his name?”

I just sighed. Yes, my name is Free Williams. It’s a nice name to give to your child, right? Anyways, I turned back to Mitch who was still on the computer and this time she was reading something called manga. I remembered how she looked like when I touched her. She jumped off a little but I never knew she’d feel me. Maybe that’s what happened when--

“Hey lover boy, you’re in big trouble.” Gabe pulled my collar, making me fall back. I wanted to protest but he it told me to shut up.

“WHAT’S WRONG NOW?” I groaned. Can’t I just watch her in peace?

“Well, since you have me, she has hers.”

“You mean a guardian angel? If I remembered clearly, hers is St. Michael. She looked it up before.”

“Yep. And you don’t want to mess with the St. Michael, the Commander-in-Chief of all the hierarchies of the Heavenly Hosts.” He replied in a shaky voice. Cool, my G.A. is scared.

I waited for him to appear. I wanted to meet him ever since I met Gabe just a while ago. I heard Gabe counting down in whisper. He really was scared. Something came down from the ceiling; it was too fast so I couldn’t see it. I moved closer to Mitch (which was the direction he fell off), ignoring Gabriel who was practically panicking and looked for the Commander-in-chief guy. I couldn’t see St. Michael.

“He’s not here!” I told Gabe so he could come out. He shook his head and pointed to my back. I turned back to Mitch and on her head was a tiny person in white robes with cute little wings. It looked serious.

“St. Michael…?” I said. He turned his head to me and he looked angry in every way.

“Do. Not. Touch. Michelle. Gabriel should have told you.” He flew to my face and looked me in the eyes.

 “Yeah. I know. He did.” I held my hands up in defeat. He was scary in a way.

“Then why did you?” He asked.

“It’s because he told me to feel free to do so!” I turned my head away from him.

“GREAT. Thanks a lot, kid. I’m saved.” Gabe came out and then Michael flew to him and gave him a thousand sermons on doing your job properly.

The door opens and her little brother, Jared went in, in a blue jersey with a large sling bag on his side. He was a little thin boy, and like his sister, he had the same dark brown eyes and black hair as her but their difference were age, gender, and complexion. Jared was like a dark hash brown and Mitch was like normal cream. As soon as he came in, their mother followed after.

“Oh. HE-LLO, Jared. HI MOM!” Michelle immediately stood up and kissed her mom at the cheek.

“Oh come on. And her mother had to come too.” I sighed and ruffled my hair. My head was dizzy. And ghosts are not supposed to go dizzy.

“What’s wrong with his mother?” Mike asks, flying back to Mitch’s head.

“If you were her guardian angel, you’d know about her mother too.” I said to him.

“You shouldn’t say that.” Michael said.

“Wasn’t she the one who ripped Mitch’s report card? Mitch didn’t even have low grades!” I snapped at him.

“You should RESPECT her, Free Williams. If you asked Mitch, she’d say this too.” He said.

I felt really angry. I needed no respect for that fiend. Her mother was my least favorite person in this house.

The day I found myself here, it was nighttime already and everyone was either watching T.V. or surfing the net. The first person I saw inside here was their mother. I didn’t expect her to be a demon in disguise. She went into Mitch’s room. That was the first time I ever saw her. She was sitting at her study table beside her bed with her lampshade on. When she turned to her mother, she closed her notebook (she writes a lot) and smiles at her.

“Yes, Mom? Are there any problems?” she says.

“What are you doing?” her mother asks her.

“Oh, I’m just--.”

“Writing? Again? You should be doing your homework! Anyways, when is the giving of report cards?” she yelled in n angry tone.

“Actually…” Mitch smiled anxiously and took out her file case at the side and took out a long paper. “…It was today.”

“What’s your rank?”

“Well, um… 13.” she chuckled nervously. I could tell that she was ready for something that time and I didn’t know what it was.

Her mother’s face grew dark and started shouting, saying what kind of child she was and what kind of person would laugh at those kinds of grades. And if you want to know, they were 38 in her class and 13 is pretty much a good rank.

All I wondered was how would it feel seeing your’ report card crumpled, torn apart and thrown at you. And all you could do was cry and listen to your mother who kept on swearing, telling you that it’s no use crying in front of her.

Honestly, I can’t even take that. I never knew how that felt that. When I was alive, I had good grades and my mom never reprimanded me because of it.

And imagine. That was the first day I started haunting this house. All I remembered was after all I saw; I followed Mitch to her room. She closed the door, and went to her bathroom and looked at the mirror and cried more. And then she tried to stop crying, washing her face. But somehow, she couldn’t. She looked again to her mirror and smiled to make it look like she didn’t cry, but tears still came flowing down her cheeks. She went to her bed and lied down with her face flat on her pillow. I counted a few seconds until she gasped and laughed.

She was so strong.