Angel of Mercy

Chapter One

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'Water,' the voice gasped from the bed. I turned looking at the chart by his bed biting my lip, trying to look as though wrecked by indecision,

'Your records say you're off water, you insulted a guard,' The desperation in his eyes intensified, as I made to walk away. Just before I reached the door, I turned and gave him a conscious stricken look, biting my lip and widening my eyes. I grabbed a glass of water from my trolley. I held the cup up to his dried, cracked lips and he drank deeply, almost inhaling the water in his haste to quench his thirst. He gasped out his thanks. I smiled sweetly and pushed my heavy trolley out the room.

As an Angel, I had to look after the men sentence to execution. Often, all they needed was a smile and a glass of water, however, sometimes they needed so much more. A shoulder to cry on, a friendly face to confess to, a messenger to tell give their loved ones a letter.

I then would wash the salt water off my uniform, report the confessions to the guard on duty to be used in court should the prisoner appeal, give the letters to the judges who decide whether they will be sent.

The men do know I report everything they say, I tell them, often. They still tell me, believing that they are somehow special. That I will keep their secret. That the rules don't apply to them. They always have the same expression, those who appeal. It is an expression of hurt, like I have betrayed them, but I didn't. They betrayed me, betrayed the entire country, when they broke the law and they deserve what's coming to them.

I smile angelicaly at the new inmate, as I read his notes;
Name-Owin Johnson
Occupation-Soldier
Crime-Mutiney
Pushiment-death (Well there's a shock, fancy someone on the death wing, being put to death. Do they really think I have no brain?)

It's quite rare to get a solider, it's a good job, well paid. Looking at him, I decided that he must have had a sweetheart, a girl or boy that wasn't his match.

'Hello Owin,' I used my calmest voice, allowing my very aura to ooze serenity and sweetness. I gently laid a meal down on his table, asking as I did if there was anything needed. He gave me a cheerful smile and nodded,

'I would like to know something, you name, if I may'

I barely kept my facade of saccharine sweetness from cracking. He wanted to know my name? Who did he think he was? In our society you only gave your name to those closest to you, everyone else addressed you by your job title. Consequently, I was always called, 'Angel,' my best friend Julia was called, 'Dressmaker'.

'You may call me Angel or Angel of Mercy if you'd prefer'.

The version in my mind contained more swearing and possibly some kind of obscene gesture. Fortunately for Owin, I had been trained far to well to let loose any emotion that wasn't in the sweet, kind, patient genre so I manage to keep the bluer version inside.

'You know my name', he retorted. I made my smile even brighter and sweeter, I'm talking blinding bright. I only used this smile on people who I hated, it always shut them up.

'That must seem so unfair, but there's nothing I can do, the rules are here for a reason.' With a final full wattage smile I walked from the room.

As I entered my changing I ripped off my white uniform, the government dictated that all Angles wore a simple white dress of the appropriate length (no shorter the one inch above ankles) and replaced it with a green dress with lacing up the front. Ripping my hip length hair out of its cap I brushed it, before plaitting it and putting it up in a bun.

Then I just took a moment, to replace my soft, sweet image, the one I put on every morning, took off at night. The one every one saw and never botherd to look under, never even thought there could be another person underneath, didn't care enough to check. I knew, even as I allowed myself to feel miserable that it wasn't that they didn't care, more like they just couldn't bring themselves to look. I was the perfect citizen and if I wasn't happy, then who was?

Pulling myself out of my melancholy reverie, I walked outside, smiling at everyone I met in the halls. Julia was waiting for me. I allowed a genuine smile to sneak through my normally impregnable facade. Julia was everything I hid in myself, loud, sarcarastist, rude. She pushed every rule, skirt exactly one inch above her ankle, clothes in the brightest shade allowed, hair in the most daring style. Tonight, she was going to measure me for a new dress, and I had been looking forward to it for weeks, months even.

An uncharacteristic laugh bubbled up, as I saw Julia standing next to James, my match. The Angel and the Carpenter, caused no end of jokes in our group of friends, but we were happy togther, well matched.

I moved to wave at them, but a hand clamped down on my arm. Instinctively, I opened my mouth to scream, but another hand stopped the flow of air through my mouth.

'Sorry Angel, I'm leaving and you're my guaranty.'