Fallen Angel

☾CHAPTER ONE

☽ Luke

DID IT HURT when I fell from heaven? No. Did it hurt when I fell off a roof in the middle of the night, tightly grasping a shard of porcelain and bleeding on my favourite pair of jeans? Fuck, yeah — but don't worry, we'll get to that later.

     It all started when I pissed off the Big Guy: God with a capital G. I wasn't a first-time offender, and the points had added up against me. This time, though, involved a goat, some red paint, and a whole lot of angry villagers. Maybe you can put the story together with that information, maybe not. Long story short, He was tired of me always screwing around, I wasn't interested in changing my ways, and finally, He'd had enough. Three strikes, you're out.

     At first, I was like, shit, what am I gonna do now? It's not like I have any Mortal friends. So I hung around purgatory for a while, but everyone there was depressing as fuck, repenting and all that. I went down to Hell to see what Grim was up to, but he wasn't around. Typical. That guy's always out and about, meeting new people, taking them where they need to go (read: the afterlife) — consider him the Uber of Death, that guy. I'd give him a five star rating, if there was an app for that.

     Anyways. Eventually I went back upstairs (if you know what I mean) and asked God for a second chance. He said, "Son, it's not the second chance you should be asking for." I said, "Fine. I'm asking you for a...twenty-second— is that right? — twenty-second chance. Please?" I think He knew I wasn't interested in making this chance count. When someone's already given you twenty-one chances, what are the odds of being forgiven? I wasn't expecting to be forgiven, ever. That's why I was surprised when He said yes.

But of course, there was a catch; He granted me temporary Guardian Angel Status, meaning I had to watch over some sad mortal who kept making bad decisions (so basically, the human version of me). I was totally thrown off — why would he pick me to make sure a mortal wasn't going down the wrong path? I'm on the wrong path. I am the wrong path. What kind of role model would I be? But He seemed to trust His decision, and I certainly wasn't about to push my luck, so I agreed to take on a charge. Some poor, misguided soul was about to get a whole lot of Luke in his life.

     He told me the kid's name was JT; an eighteen-year-old from Texas who couldn't stay out of trouble. He'd never been arrested because he never got caught, something I had to admire. He didn't have many serious offences, mostly vandalism here and there, but he also wasn't going places. God said he was intelligent, he just needed help "unlocking his potential." I said, "Hell, so do I."

     The thing is, I didn't and still don't know anything about being a Guardian Angel. Was I supposed to force this guy to go to group counselling? Drag him to church every Sunday? Get him a tutor? Give him life advice? I couldn't do any of those things; I didn't know the first thing about being a Guardian Angel, because I wasn't one.

Unsurprisingly, I was pissed about being forced into a job I didn't know how to do. I felt like I'd just been told to write a 10,000 word essay on a topic I knew nothing about. In other words: I was fucked. But on the other hand, I was worried. I needed to do this right if I wanted to get back into Heaven, and I needed to get back. Even though I'd never truly belonged there — there's no room in Heaven for a black sheep Angel like me — it was my only home.

     Home is where Heaven is.

     Right?

     Anyway, shortly after God gave me my assignment, I found myself in the parking lot of a dodgy 7/11. Faint buzzing could be heard from the Open 24/7 sign, which cast a bright violet light on the sidewalk. I couldn't see anyone inside, except for the anxious attendant working behind the counter, pounding back a Red Bull and flicking a lighter on and off. The scent of marijuana wafted out from behind the building, the newspaper boxes had been vandalized with various stickers and messages — "call me for a good time ;)" — and the garbage bins off to the side were overflowing. Needless to say, it was a hell hole. But something — call it Angel Intuition — was telling me I was exactly where I needed to be.