Forgotten Life

Chapter 6

Its been two months since I last saw Wes. He told me he would be gone for awhile and I thought I shouldn't worry. So I haven't been worrying about him, I've been thinking about him, yes. But I have dire needs that need to be attended to. My mother is starving me. She constantly stays in the kitchen just so I don't eat. The only time I can eat is at really late at night, when she's asleep. Sometimes I just don't worry about it. David brings me coffee and half of his food for breakfast, the rest of the day is on my own.

I woke up and grabbed a pop tart. The time was...

2:04am. I walked back into my room and someone was laying in my bed. I saw the darkness move. I slowly and quietly walked towards the plug in for my Christmas lights. I plug them in and Wes was laying in my bed, shirtless. No he wasn't shirtless, his shirt was ripped and torn. I dropped my food and stood there. He was covered in blood and dirt. I couldn't believe my eyes. He was laying on his stomach and his back...oh my god. His back was covered...just covered in gashes.

"Wes." I whispered. I moved towards him slowly and he was just sound asleep. He was breathing, but ever so slowly. I got up and went into my bathroom. I grabbed some water, bandages, and rags to wipe the blood away. He was just lying there, I've never seen his this vulnerable. So I climbed on the bed next to him, cut his shirt off of him and started washing him. This was the best I could do. I cant pick him up and drag him to the hospital. I don't even know what to do. I remembered then, the most embarrassing thing. I was wearing his sweatshirt with really short shorts underneath. I laughed a little to myself and got to work on Wes. I carefully pressed the rag on his wounds and cleaned them the best that I could. These wounds were really deep. I cleaned in and around the wounds and found out something I didn't want to know. The wounds were whip wounds. He was whipped fifteen times. I covered my mouth with my hand and started crying. Wes, I'm so sorry. I thought to myself. I wrapped his wounds up with some antibiotics on them. He will be ok, Chase. He'll be fine. I kept reassuring myself. I laid beside his wanting his warmth and fell asleep with wet tears on my face.

I woke up the next morning entangled in the covers, Wes was in the same spot where he was last night. I ran out and David was there reading the newspaper and I realized Claire and Marion were gone.

"David I need your help." I pleaded. He folded the paper up and looked at me,

"Sure thing."

"Its Wes. He came into my room last night and passed out. He's covered in gashes from something. He was whipped. Can you help him?" I said to him and I felt a tear role down my cheek. Hoping that he'll help us.

"I know a friend, he knows about Wes. He can help. I promise." he told me as he called that friend of his. I walked back into my room and checked to see if Wes was ok. He hadn't moved from the spot where I found him. That scared me because I feared that he was dead. He was breathing every time I checked. That made me feel better, a lot better, knowing that he was alive and not a dying corpse. I waited for David to come in with his friend, but it was hours before he even showed up.

I sat at the edge of my bed waiting for them to stop talking. They were discussing Wes' injuries. I folded my hands together and touched my mouth ever so gentle. Waiting impatiently. God this is just awful, waiting for so long like this. Then my door opened. David and Michael walked in. David had a pained look on his face and Michael looked frightened when he saw me.

"What is it? How is Wes? Is he going to be alright?" I said rapidly asking Michael questions. He held his hand up to stop me from asking anymore questions. I looked at him and he said,

"Your friend here-'

"Wes. His names Wes." I hissed at him.

"Wes, has a broken bone in each wing. Nothing major but he wont be flying for a few weeks. The lashes on his back are getting infected, so I am prescribing this antibiotics which will clear out the bacteria in his body. You must, I repeat, must change his bandages every six hours. If he struggles too much then his wounds will open up then you'll have to with strain him. If he's one of those types who thinks they can fly with broken wings they sedate him with this." he held out a syringe with yellow liquid in side.  I grabbed it and looked at Michael.

"This will not hurt him, just beware, it will have affect on him very rapidly. When he wakes up make him drink water or PowerAde, then make him eat an apple or healthy food." he looked at David, David had a pained look on his face still.

"You guys aren't telling me something? Whatever you guys aren't telling me, you better tell me." I said in the worst voice I could say. David looked at me startled while Michael just looked at me.

"Wes' lashes, they are from the angels." Michael said. Angels? They aren't real.

"Please work on not screaming in peoples mind, maybe they'll like you better."Michael said as he put hand to his forehead. David led him to my desk chair across the room and then Michael spoke again,

"Wes was whipped because of you." I was taken back. This isn't possible? How could Wes be whipped because of me?

"What do you mean?" I asked as my voice cracked.

"Its not my place to tell you why. I only know because I used to be an angel. I was an archangel. So was David." I looked at David in disbelief, he turned around and Michael lifted David's shirt up. There were to red marks, scars parallel to each other. I looked at Wes behind me, who was still asleep, and his wings were in the exact place. I looked back at David and Michael was standing next to him. Then I saw it, their appearance. They've... changed. David looked younger... he was 28 years old, and he was wearing jeans, with a blue shirt. Behind him he had wings, white wings with a golden tint to it. He was an archangel. This was the archangel David. Then I looked at Michael, he had long blond hair with very dark brown eyes, his wings were whiter that David's and in his arm was a sword which was on fire. He was taller than David, and David was six feet tall. I was sitting in front of the two most powerful archangels in the universe. I couldn't help it but my mouth dropped open and I shut it  just as Michael began speaking again.

"Wes here is not an archangel. Or an angel. Anymore, at least. He was cast out of heaven. He's an angel that you've always feared. Chase." his voice seemed far away, I could only hear echoes. "His kind killed your mother and father. Your mother was like him, well more powerful. His kind wanted to kill her for her power. Your father was in the way." This isn't true! This.. he cant be...

"Yes, Chase. Wes is a fallen." Michael said.