An Angel's Kiss

Chapter 10

So sorry about the super late update. The only reason that this chapter went up is because of all the people who have fanned me recently; that means that they have to like my work, right?

I'm sure that you've all realized that people have stopped commenting and voting on my story, but I'm still not going to stop writing. I hope that you do. It's kind of depressing if all of a sudden people just stop reading your work.

I'm human too, so I understand if you can't alwyas comment and vote on my stories, and that's understandable. Sorry for the super long note!

XXTHEDARKANGELXX

Chapter 10:

“Isn’t it obvious? She had some sort of mental break down because she put on the wrong make-up.” Once again, Lenora’s voice just had to ruin my day. I could feel the tips of my ears turning bright red as my vision starting getting red spots in them. Taking a deep breath I opened my mouth.

“No actually, it’s not.” My voice was calm and I was doing my best to keep my face expressionless. “I wear make-up on my face because I have to. Honestly, I don’t give a crap if people are staring at my face or not, but I cannot handle the memories that come with it,” I broke off, steadying my breathing and making sure that my voice didn’t rise in anger. My hands clenched at my sides. “Actually, you know what? Go ahead; think that all I care about is what I’m wearing for the day or whatever. I do not care.” Thankfully, my voice had remained calm and even; the only sign of my anger at Lenora were the hands that were clenched at my sides.

Lenora turned around and disappeared in a flash of light. After a moment’s hesitation, Adonis and Loretta followed; they were going to console her. Ramon and Clarissa remained where they were, just watching me. I could see Ramon’s hands clenching and unclenching. Either Lenora or I had upset him, and I certainly hoped that it had not been the latter.

“Why did you say that?” Instead of the anger that I was expecting to come from Ramon, all I could hear was wonder. It took me awhile to actually answer his question. Truthfully, I didn’t know why I said what I said, only that I had. Then, almost in an undertone, “Nobody has ever spoken to her like that,”

I decided with the simplest answer: “It is the truth. I don’t care what she thinks of what I do. It doesn’t matter to you.” Ramon didn’t know what to say to that. Clarissa tried her best to change the subject.

“Ramon, I think it is best we go now.” Not once did Clarissa break eye-contact with me, and I was happy about that. At her side Ramon slowly nodded. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to absorb what I had told him. There was another flash of bright, white light. By the time I could see correctly again both Clarissa and Ramon were gone.

I could not be happier; I could be alone for awhile.

Slowly, I dropped the towel in the laundry basket, not bothering to wipe up the floor. It could be cleaned up later. A wave of fatigue hit me, and I was suddenly tired again. No, I was bone-tired. And I could literally feel the temperature dropping, fast. “Th-This isn’t normal,” I muttered aloud. Something was wrong with my room, and I didn’t want to be awake to find out what it is. Climbing into bed, I jerked the covers over my head.

I did not want to know what or who was messing with my room. I wanted them to go away. I wanted to be able to have at least a few days in peace. I wanted to have a few days where I was not dealing with something out of the ordinary; a few days when I could pretend that everything was normal.

“She is important to us! We need her alive. Sierra needs her alive! You must do it, Celine. You must!” An ancient voice filled my ears, droning out every other voice there was including my own. It sounded familiar, but I didn’t know why. But there was really only one word that I actually heard. Sierra. Even though I knew that she was dead my heart still soared. The way this person spoke about her was not in past tense; it was in present tense.

“Yes, master.” Another voice filled my ears, still droning out everything else, but softer and more gentle. Someone was submitting to the old man, and it seemed to be this person.

“Good,” he hissed, dragging out the “d”. This man sounded inhuman, but in a different way than the way the Clarissa and the others did. He sounded….scarier. His voice told you that he was not someone that you should ever mess with. In a way, he sounded like Adonis. Deep, dark and mysterious- but they were clearly different.

Pale light filled my vision. Instead of blinding me it just filled every corner of my vision. After a few moments it was still there and I stopped squinting. Then it hit me: it wasn’t a person; it was more like a ghost. I took a few steps forward, confident that they could not see me, like in previous dreams.

Suddenly, the man in the middle, the one with the powerful voice swiveled to face me. “It Is her!” He cried, his voice sounding like smashing boulders. He was pointing straight at me. The ghostly apparition spun around to face me and shot a bolt of light at my face. Even though I had only gotten a second, I still saw her face. Because of that, I did not react to whatever she threw at me.

Because that thing looked like Sierra, only paler.

It looked exactly like she had on the day she died.

I’d never had a dream like that. It… No. I refused to talk about it. Instead, I reached beside my bed, where Sierra’s journal was now resting, artfully covered by some papers that were laying around. Knowing that I was not going to even try to go back to sleep after that definitely gave me some incentive to start reading her journal again. To my surprise, the next entry was a few weeks later, not days like I had expected.

May 20th, 2008

I can’t think about her anymore; our mother. My mother.

Anyways, onto a much less happier topic: Me.

I’ve been having nightmares lately, ones that not even Scarlett can relate to. These are so much darker than I’d imagine Scarlett could handle. I’m sure she’s strong enough, and it may just be my protectiveness over my sister, but I’m actually really glad that I’m the one who has to deal with this.

I set the book on my blanket covered feet. Because we were twins, I could understand why Sierra was glad that she’d had them and not me. I would probably have felt the same way. What I didn’t understand was why Sierra felt that she couldn’t talk to me about it. If nothing else, I knew that I could at least make her feel better.

Of course, I could completely and utterly relate to that now.

Trust me; I think I know Scarlett well enough to know that she would not do so well under the pressure of these nightmares. I’m cracking too; people have started to ask me if I’m getting enough sleep. I think I have bags under my eyes.

They’re like centered on and around my death.

Every time I wake up it’s either right before I’m about to be stabbed, when Scarlett’s kneeling over my body after I’ve been stabbed, or when I’m watching Scarlett get cut across her face. Morbid right?

The scarier part is that I’ve been having different versions of me dying even before I knew that they were called nightmares. I used to be able to laugh them off and just go on with my day, but not anymore. They’ve gotten so much worse….

And then there’s the ones centered around Scarlett….

I set the journal down again, trying to control and organize my thoughts. It took a while. As I was re-opening it, a slip of paper fell out.

You’re next.

And the worst part was that it was in Sierra’s handwriting; it was picture-perfect.

Oh my god.

But Sierra’s dead, right?

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O.o

A twist. Personally, this was one of my harder chapters to write, so I hope you enjoy it!