Fallen

Chapter Two: Feathers and smoke

Griffin's POV

    The sky was crying. It wasn't torrential, but it wasn't light rain either. The clouds were a musty gray, and the forest that surrounded him was dreary and quiet. It was never quiet there. It smelled of damp wood, and new vegetation, like it always did in spring, but this time was different. So very different. It was as if the world had lost something very important to it, that it could never have back. Is this what the Earth's mourning looked like? He thought this quite often, but he could never seem to find the right answer. There was usually so much noise, and life, and pleasantness from this place... but the aura he was getting now? It felt like sorrow. It felt like God and his children all cried out at once in agony. He wished for this feeling to fade as soon as it came to him.

    He came out here every day after school, as it helped him clear his mind. He would climb the largest, tallest tree, and perch on the highest branch he could find, far above the ground and the real world. These days, this place was like his safe haven from the outside. Here, illness nor hardship nor sleepless night after night could harm him. Hell, time couldn't even touch him here. Up high in the trees, in the middle of this dank forest, he was invincible. And that was all he ever wanted, that's all he ever could want. Cancer didn't exist out there, and neither did the word terminal, that wretched horrible word. When his mom got released from the hospital, he would take her out here too. That way, she could be invincible with him. At least for a short while... she could feel better. She could feel safe and warm and at peace. A feeling both him and his mother never got to see these days.

    Griffin's mother had gotten sick when he was about six or seven. They said it had been small, just a small harmless tumor in her lungs. Of course, at that age, he didn't understand what that had meant. He was just a child... and children shouldn't have to worry about death and medicine and hospitals, right? At least that's what his mother thought. The word surgeries meant nothing to Griffin, and neither did anything else they would say in that hospital room. Anything they said flew high over his head, and soared into places where he wouldn't have to think about them. And he was a happy child. He played soccer, he won first place in the science fair in 7th grade and 8th grade, he got a girlfriend that same 8th grade year. He was so happy. Well, until his girlfriend broke up with him during his freshman year. She said it wasn't his fault, that she just needed to think about herself. He supposed thinking about herself was going out with the captain of the football team, yeah? He kept thinking "well, it couldn't get any worse than this". Evidently, it could, and he curses himself every day for saying that.

    His mother wasn't getting any better after her surgeries, and, if anything, her breathing became more labored each and every day with that damn oxygen tank she used. The doctors had taken every last ounce of hope from Griffin at this point for her getting better. They had started using words like damaged, and terminal whenever he came in to see her. God, that was such an ugly word to him. He swore to himself he'd find another word other than that to describe his mother's condition, even if it killed him. He wasn't really sure how to feel about it all anymore either. He was mostly angry though. Angry at the doctors for not trying hard enough, angry at modern medicine for not being more, well, modern, and most of all he was angry at himself for not being there more. And yet, he couldn't stop himself from retreating to this place each and every day. Sometimes he'd take a few minutes, and sometimes he'd take hours. 

    He always found his way home, to the empty lifeless house where their family used to live. God, that was so long ago... back when his family could still be called just that: a family. Now it was more broken than ever. His father had left them the moment Griffin was born, so he never got to know him in the first place. Thinking about it only made griffin boil with anger. What kind of ass leaves his wife after she just had your child? He could never understand... but it was still a sore subject with his mother, and with her condition he never liked to bring it up. From what little she did talk about him, Griffin knew that he had inherited his father's dark green eyes, and his chocolate brown hair. He got his olive toned skin and sharp jaw from his mother, along with her brilliant smile. God did he love her smiles. They were rare nowadays, but they always lit up his day.