Demons and Angels

CHAPTER 4: SAFETY

CHAPTER 4: SAFETY

“Where are you taking me?!” I asked

“Quiet.” Griffin said.

His cold hands were freezing my wrist.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I said quiet.” his grip getting tighter.

His hands gripped tightly on my wrist. I can almost feel my bones crushing. I kept moving my arm and trying to remove his hands away from me but every time I try to get him off, his hands keep getting colder.

It’s like I was touching snow with my bare hands.

I admired the back of his head. His black silky hair danced in the air. His hair was black as night.

No.

It was darker. It’s darker than night.

I examined his shoulders and I saw some scars. Big ones. They looked like battle scars.

And, in a moment there… I felt like throwing my arms around him. I can feel his pain. His sufferings.

He’s not like any kind of demon. He was different. I can feel it.

Demons aren’t supposed to have scars. They’re…well, immortal.

They’re immortal because they’re dangerous and they don’t get wounded or anything. It’s because they don’t care. They’re evil.

Unlike an angel, like me…we can die. And when we do, we turn to ash. And our ashes turn to stars.

See those stars at the night sky?

Those glowing stars you see are angels. Dead angels.

“Hey!” I heard him shout at me.

He grabbed on my wing.

“What the heavens do you think you’re doing?” I demanded. “Get off my wing.”

He said nothing.

He let go of my hand and grabbed hold both my wings.

I closed my eyes, thinking to myself… this is the end. I’m going to perish.

“Would you fucking relax?” he raised his voice.

I opened my eyes at the sound of the f-word, that was the first time I heard someone say it.

I looked behind me.

He was still holding on to my wing. He seemed pissed. Well, unhappy.

He was holding a black shiny jar.

He opened the jar and powder came out of it. He blew it to the direction of my wings. And, before I knew it…

My wings were black.

Demon colored. Black. Night. Dark.

I fell to my knees. I wept.

“Get up,” he ordered.

“Why are you doing this to me? What are you.” I sniffed.

“You need to blend in.”

“From where? Why don’t you just kill me? That’s what you do.”

He bit his lip and blood started rushing down again.

“Just,” he stammered. “Take off your clothes.”

I choked.

“Excuse me?”  I tried to catch my breath.

“Take off your clothes.” He ordered. “Put these on.”

He threw me a little dirty black dress. I looked at it, confused.

I looked at him.

“Just put it on,” he said. “I’ll be back when you’re done.”

Then he flew away.

I tried to look for escape routes but all I see was black.

I took off my white dress. And I put on the dirty dress he gave me.