The not-a-princess

Angels should leave better food for the sick

Without meaning to, my eyes had grazed across an angel painted onto the roof. It was beautiful, no, that's an understatement, it was simply gorgeous. I couldn't tell what the face looked like or the colour of her skin because of my blurry eyes but I could smell that it was still wet – freshly painted, huh? She had her wings thrown back in full glory and her pink lips, smiling in victory. Her hair tumbling like a waterfall and her hands out stretched as if ready to take yours. 

With lots of difficulty, I shuffle to my other side, there sat Ria (wait I thought she wasn't in the room?) by the dressing table peering at a mirror in deep concentration. In her hands were a needle and an ice-cube (I think?) and she was holding them up against her ear (wait she can't pierce her eyes like that! She could get infected or...). 

Her large eyes met mine in the mirror and she gave me a sly smile, her crooked teeth showing. Coughing, I manage to croak out, "Why..? You already have so many." Startled by the sound of my croaky voice, she misses and pricks some other place causing little droplets of red spill. 

Ria cursed and then got up, "Whenever I feel a little lonely, I wanna indulge myself in earrings but I can't make my mind up so I just have to wear them all..." 

She made her way towards me and handed me some water, I drank gratefully, "But you already have... 1, 2... about 5." 

"Well I can't wear an odd number of earrings, can I?" I would have smiled but I'm not feeling to good. I look up again. 

"An angel." 

Ria looks startled, slight blood still dripping from her left ear, "is seeing angels a sign of death? Oh my god! Don't die-" 

I actually laugh, though it pains a lot. "No. up." She turns her head and looks up. In the movement, her bun falls apart and her short hair tumbled, she smiles – looking at her piece –and stretches her own hand as if to reach it. "Angel." I say again. Ria doesn't say anything and goes shuffling around in a drawer and brought me some tablets. She perches herself on the edge of my bed and I sit up. 

I pointed at her, "Angel. Locked out of heaven. Shackled to the earth. Wings torn off." 

She doesn't react (to my surprise) and just says her voice heavy, "you don't know what your saying, your sick, dummy." 

I shake my head, "May I?" 

"Go on. I'm dying to hear what you think about me." 

"You're an angel. You're not binded by the past and you're not interested or at all afraid of the future. You are uncaring of worldly matters or items yet you indulge as if collecting objects almost at will. It is like some one from another world is here to see ours – not by choice though and some things have caught your eye. You act on your own accord and no nothing of consequence. Like someone who is completely new to the idea of principles and distastes it. It makes you dangerous in some beautiful unknown way. You despise all lot of things and places and people here – as if you've seen the perfect version. And you crave it, unable to stop it, you create it yourself. 

The perfect world you wish; no like you want it back. Though you also except all imperfections and say that they are the utmost perfect as if you have never seen anything other than perfect. To put it in other words, your like a tourist in some completely foreign land, interested but not pleased enough, always comparing, always in awe, always losing yourself but always making yourself accustomed. But, to everything there's that air of sadness and longing but a twinge of bitterness like salt to taste for a dish. It almost like you've been locked out of something you love, binded to a new place with no way of getting back. You're an angel. Locked out of heaven. Shackled to the earth. Wings torn off." 

I let go of a deep breath that I didn't even realise I've been holding in. Indirectly I had asked all those previous questions and doubts about her and problems I've holding onto. There was silence for a second. Then two. 

Then a snicker, "You seriously think I'm an angel because... I'm impulsive, unbothered, lazy, creative and sad sometimes? Also that's some impressive deductions skills man!" Ria shook her head and giggled, flicking my forehead, "Go back to sleep, you really don't know what your saying. Your too kind, if anything I'd be called a lazy child who forgot to grow up." 

"Then why do you stay so secretive? So promise me that when I'm better you'll tell me all about yourself." 

"Promise." Ria stood up and smiled at the angel, "I'm too pretty to be you and your too dutiful to be me. So carry out your duty and watch over her for me, okay?" she then turned to me, "The teachers said we don't have to return to school till Monday so get some rest, Kieren promised me he'd take me to his roomie's restaurant. So I'll be gone, see ya" How could a student own a restaurant? And how could they get there? 

Whatever. With that Ria left. I couldn't even remember what she was wearing or if her ear was still bleeding. The moment my head touched the pillow, I was out. I didn't even hear the school masters tower blow up. That afternoon when I awoke, the fairies had left me some lunch and clean bedsheets. I ate the tuna casserole and dry bran muffins – not even half as tasty as Ria cooking and she'd left me some medicine and water.

 After having a nap and eating, I felt a lot stronger so I decided to update my journal, still kind of excited to hear Ria's part of the story. I had a reason to be here. I had a purpose, one that no one knows of. Mother knew. Mother sent me here to gain it. Yet here I am missing period after period because...