Merciless Angel

Chapter 4

When I awaken, my eyes feel a punched-in-the-face-now-my-eyes-are-swollen type of heavy. I can tell that if I were to open them, I would only see a blur, and when I do, I see nothing. It's pitch black. Usually rubbing them does the trick, but this time it the darkness will not go away. The last thing I remember is being in the car... and the sword... I close my eyes, open them again, and continue to do this a few times to make sure I'm actually waking up and not stuck in some limbo. Who knows. After what happened yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if I am dead.

I reach my arms out. My left hand immediately smacks a cold wall. I lean to the right a bit and I feel something metal. I run my hand up and down it, coming to the conclusion that it's a lamp. I find the small switch and flip it. The bright light blinds me for a few moments, which takes another few moments to adjust to. In that time, I realize where I am: back in my room in Ryan's apartment. I look down at myself. The same jeans and hoodie from the day before are still on. They have a few rips along the hem of the hood, but the blood stains and the cuts on my arms are gone.

I stand up slowly, making sure I won't lose my balance, and open my door. I walk out into the living room and almost have a heart attack when I see Ryan standing in the kitchen. He's on the phone again, but this time also playing with a small orange container of tiny white pills.

"Ryan?" I ask insecurely. His head jerks towards me, hanging up the phone and slipping the bottle of pills into his jeans pockets in a bolt.

"Uh... nice to see you're finally up," he sputters.

"What happened? The last thing I remember was being in a car..." I mumble as I walk forward.

"What are you talking about, Scarlett? When I came home you were in your bed sleeping. You must have came home and fell asleep. Don't you remember?" He asks softly.

I try to remember, but I can't. I can't remember how I got here. I can't remember anything. "No Ryan, I was kidnapped by these two guys... they were cannibals or something. Then someone stabbed a sword through Lucifer's head..." I mumble trying to remember. 

Ryan chuckles. "Wow Scar, you must be smoking something weird if you're having those kinds of dreams." Then, he turns back to the counter and pulls an Arby's hamburger out of a paper bag. "Hungry?"

I nod and take the wrapped burger. He's right, I must have been dreaming. But it felt so real! I felt the glass cut into me, but no cuts on my arms to prove it. Wait, where are my shopping bags? Oh, hell no. I did not just spend money on clothes to have them taken away. I turn and shuffle back to my room in frustrated dismay. They're there. Phew! I sit down on my bed, gingerly eating my burger. After I finish, I lay down on my bed realizing how tired I still am...

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Pain slowly seethes through my body; like an electric current running through a wire. For some reason I also feel as if I'm floating. Maybe, now, I really am dead. Could I possibly be floating to heaven? Though, I always thought I'd end up in hell.

Suddenly, the flying sensation vanishes, and I feel the cold concrete floor firm underneath me. I don't know if I want to open my eyes. Anything could be here. Wait, where am I? Did I fall asleep? Is this a dream? I have so many questions that I want answered, but I do NOT— for the love of Hades— want to see. Regardless of the reverse pep-talk, I open my eyes, anyway. When I do, I see something the opposite of scary. I am awoken to the most beautiful face in the world.

I feel pressure building up in my lungs as I forget to breathe, but ignore it. His face, is so- and very cliche of me to say—.... perfect. Right before me stands the green-eyed boy I saw earlier this morning, and up close, he is breath taking.

His eyes are color of that crisp green grass you only find in golf courts. His lips are a few shades darker than most boys. Well, most people, really, unless you count the types of people who wear pastel puce lipstick. But it doesn't look like he's wearing any makeup. His light skin shows no sign of blemishes, and his hair resembles the night sky.

"Are you okay?" A silky voice says from somewhere. I realize with wonder that the voice came from his lips. "Are you okay?" He repeats as I feel my dream drifting away.

"I-i.." What an idiot. I can't say anything! Come on. I can do it. Stop wussing out. I can feel dream continue to drift. "Y-ye—"

"Good you're alive. I thought that maybe the sight of my face had killed you," he interrupts and chuckles sadly. I don't understand why he would say that. Was that his form of comedic relief or did he really think he was ugly? I can never tell when people are being serious or not. Yay for lack of social skills. Thanks, mom. Hopping from house to house really helped round out my intuition real well!

"I... where... h-how..."I stutter some more, not seeming to be able to control my voice. He smiles the smallest smile and then stands up.

I pull myself up on my elbows, letting out a deep sigh. I attempt to get up— emphasize on attempt. Upon seeing my surroundings, my knees go weak and I fall to the ground. I'm on top of a building, somehow. An extremely tall one I might add. I have the perfect bird's-eye view of the entire city. Gorgeous! Way better than riding in a taxi. But even as amazing as the sight is, I was never good with heights, and still am not.

My insides churn and I wrap my arms around my stomach to stop myself from puking. My heart beats against my ribs as I try to calm down. I'm on top of a building with a strange boy. Um....

"Pretty isn't it?" the boy asks in his velvet voice. I nod quickly, not wanting to stutter again. I close my eyes tightly, praying that I won't puke. When I finally feel that my insides are under control, I get up without looking down.

He's sitting on the edge of the building; his legs hanging off the edge. Chills down my spine just watching him and a tiny sense of nausea creeps at the back of my throat. "Uh... c-can you help me out a little? The last thing I remember is being in a car with two freakish men, some figure crashing down killing one of them, and waking up in my room with no wounds," I say, barely stuttering this time.

"What do you think happened?" He asks nonchalantly. What kind of answer is that? I'm asking the questions here, mister. Don't act like you know it all.

"I don't know. I'm pretty sure they were cannibals," I state. He laughs loudly and shake his head.

"Don't laugh at me. I'm serious! They said they were going to eat me!" I yell. My temper is beginning to short fuse. The last place I want to lose it is on a rooftop.

"Oh, I don't doubt that they would eat you, but they weren't cannibals," he responds sternly. My head spins in confusion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you don't," he sighs softly as he gets up.

"So, who are you?"

Instead of answering me, he strikes his hand out and slowly tucks one finger after the other. "Five, four, three..." I was about to ask him what he was doing when his last finger goes down and I feel darkness once again

I wake up angry. What the hell is with my dreams, lately? It damn well did not feel like a dream, though; maybe more of a memory. It would explain what happened in the car...but that couldn't be true, either. There is no clear evidence. The cuts would still be there if it all really happened. The fringes on my clothing could be from something else, so even that can't be considered as solid proof. And another thing: I couldn't have been on a roof with the green-eyed boy I saw on the street. For one, he wasn't real. And two; I would remember it-not dream it.

But why would I dream about two things that were connected, and why would they feel so real. What were those pills that Ryan had? Could he have drugged me? Okay, now I'm really going bonkers. He wouldn't do something like that. I erase the thought from my mind as soon as it comes up. Ryan would never do anything to hurt me. I'm just extremely confused out of my mind. All I know is that I need answers, and I need them now.