Angel Satana was ten years old when his mother was killed. After the event his life went down hill from there. As he fights to keep his sanity he leads you to question the very definition of right and wrong. When bad is all you experience how do yo...
The picture is ten year old angle and the song is Bleachless by Elizabeth Grace
Hi so this is my first book on wattpad, and the first one to be viewed by the public. I decided to talk to you guys in the second chapter so you can kind of get a feel on how this story is going to be, which is gruesome. Though I am new to this so please go easy on me. If you liked the first chapter then please star and vote(Same for this one). I would be really pleased to get comments on improvement as well as praise(Please don't butcher me though). Oh and this is copyrighted. Alright I'll leave you to Angel. ENJOY!
A Year Later
I lay curled in the bed assigned to me, struggling for breath. My throat aches from the force feeding. My wrist and ankles are rubbed raw from the cuffs they put on me to keep me in place. They always restrain me before our daily routine.
Tears run down my face. I just want to die. Why won't they let me die? I don't know how long it's been since officers found me curled up with my rotten mother's body. I don't really care.
I miss her something terrible. She was stubborn, courageous, intelligent, and very caring. I remember how my mom would try to learn everything. One time she volunteered for a house building agency. My poor mother didn't even know how to hit a nail straight. I ended up teaching her how to do most things, and I was seven and a novice myself. Though looking back on how many times she asked me to repair things, even after she got the hang of the building thing, I can guess she was slyly teaching me a new skill.
Back then I only wanted to focus on being an artist. I thought anything else was a waist of time and would distract me from my ultimate goal. Because of this logic I didn't make any friends, my grades was suffering really bad, and I didn't know how to interact with other people besides my mother. My mom, showing me tough love, sent me to an over night academic camp for a month every summer since I was eight. I hated it but I got better with grades and even made friends, not close friends but progress. The year I turned ten would have been my first summer in a while that I stayed home... Anyway this isn't the whole reason I became serious about my grades. Mom said that I needed a backup job in case being an artist fell through. She continued by giving examples of famous artists that were poor like Jean-Honore Fragonard, Domenikos Theotokopoulos, and of course Vincent Van Gogh...
The door open interrupting my thoughts. Was it dinner time already? I brace myself for a fight. Instead of the whole team of doctors that usually come, just one man enter the room. I glance at him. He was very pail with short black hair and brown eyes with a reddish tent. He was about six feet and looked sort of like a girl. He had a white lab coat which hung awkwardly to one side hinting he had something heavy in his pocket. I draw into myself, ignoring him. There is a span of nothing as I spaced out, then something hits me in the side. My eyes snap to this annoying intruder.
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"Are you listening to me?" The Doctor ask clearly frustrated. I ignore him again. Whatever he had to say was not an interest to me... suddenly he drags me out of bed by my wrist. My legs shakily try to support me. Finally I lose the battle against gravity. The Doctor grab my shirt with his other hand, and drag me up until we were eye level. "Do you really want to die? Do you really want to give up all your dreams, plans, promise?" The last made me flinch as I remember the promise I made to my mom. We were going to visit places around the world and sale my work.
I look at him angrily. "Do you think your mom wold be pleased with you wasting your life? Your being an ungrateful brat? You've been here for a year. You haven't even bothered to try to recover!" I glare at him as he shouts in my face. I study him wondering why he was bothering. Everyone chalked me up for a permanent resident long time ago. I didn't really mind, I mean I think of this as purgatory, in a way. He search my eyes then he sigh. He drop me like a heap on the floor.
"Yes I want to die. There is nothing here for me."
He laughs. The sound humorless and sad. "You haven't experienced even half of it. You haven't seen nothing. " He digs in his pocket and pull out a gun. I stare at it then at him dumbfounded. He chuckles.
"Who are you." I ask puzzled. He must have gone through hell to get that in here. I have a feeling he doesn't do this kind of treatment plan with all his patients.
"Lets just say I'm an old family friend." He reply with the flip of his hands. "This is a revolver." He pop out the chamber showing the single bullet in it. He spins it. "Lets play a little game. Are you familiar with Russian Roulette?" I shake my head slowly, eyeing him. "Well there's five chambers, one bullet, and two of us. We take turns putting the gun to our heads and pulling the trigger until one of us finds the bullet." I pale and step back. "Unless you want to live."
"You can die. Why would you risk your life for me?" I ask suspiciously.
"Like I said I'm an old family friend. I owe your mother a favor and that doesn't end after her death." He looks at me pointedly. "So here I am. I was looking after you since you got here. Some here wouldn't care enough to feed you. They'd just let you waist away. I can't be here forever so I'm doing this to prove something to you."
"You're talking like one of us isn't going to die." I snarl angrily. "I'm not playing this game."
"Could it be you don't want to die?" He ask teasingly. Handing me the gun.
"No it was because I didn't want you to die. I don't care now." I say yanking the gun away from him.
"There's one condition. If you win then obviously you got your wish to die. If I die you have to stay alive until your 30." He states with a smile. "Deal?"
"You know if I die you'll be in trouble?" I ask.
He waves his hand dismissively. "All the details are taken care of. Now do we have a deal?" He say again in a more serious tone. His eyes seem to get darker. His expression deadly. I nod and put the gun to my head. I take a deep breath. Staring icily into the mysterious doctors eyes I pull the trigger.
It clicks . My hand drops heavily to my side, and I start to shake. It annoys me to feel the relief that came rushing through me. Slowly I hand the gun off. The doctor takes it.
"I have a question for you." The Doctor say casually. I narrow my eyes with suspicion. He rolls his eyes at me before continuing. "Why haven't you thought about seeking revenge?" He looked genuinely puzzled. I freeze. It never really crossed my mind. I was too busy thinking about joining my mother in her internal sleep that I never question who was the monster running around impelling people with swords. The Doc study my face then nod slowly to himself. "So you haven't thought about it. Remember Angel there is always a new angle to looking to things."
"Why do you put these thoughts in my head? What are you trying to accomplish?" My voice drips with suspicion.
"If I do die and sentence you with 18 years to life I want you to have motivation to get out of here. If seeking justice won't do that then all hope is lost for you." He replies sadly before putting the gun against his temple and pulling the trigger. It clicks. He gracefully hand it to me.
I freeze as I think about his answer. I'm surprised and pissed that I felt desire to live began to take over my desire to die. I growl and pull the trigger again. It clicks much to my pleasure and dismay.
I hand him the gun. He stair at it sadly."By the way were is your dad?" He ask absentmindedly.
I curl my lip in disgust. "The bastard walked out on my mom a long while ago." I feel a familiar hatred stir, my mother's death making it worse.
"Good. Last I heard he was getting in quiet a bet of trouble. He used to unintentionally brag your mother in all kinds of shit." He shifts the gun in his other hand and reach into his pocket. He throw me a flash drive. "I stole this information about what the police have so far on your mothers case." I look at him confused.
"We pulled the trigger 4 times kiddo. See you on the other side in 18 years." He smile sadly then put the gun against the side of his head. My eyes grow wide. I didn't even notice.... BANG.
