Assumption and fear are a driving force in most humans. So much grief and strife follow in the footsteps of Fear.
Let's take a moment and go back, back to the moments, hours minutes when the worst was presumed and fate believed yet undetermined.
...
Nothing was ever more difficult for Esther than not Knowing how to help her little brother and nothing hurt as badly as watching him suffer while his heart broke or hearing his tears fall. She watched, helpless as his knees lost all strength and his body sunk to the floor. Time slowed and the moments it took for his knees to buckle and an unearthly sound to escaped him that seemed to come from somewhere else, she desperately wished it had, took an eternity to pass. His mouth was open in a wordless cry his face upturned and contorted and his knees were on the floor. She could do nothing to ease his pain, nothing to alleviate the suffering he was sure to be feeling. There was nothing she could do to comfort him, not in those horrible moments when the report came in.
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It took more than a few moments for it all to sink in for him. She lay, unmoving, her body trapped by his, lifeless, her throat still held tight in his hand on the small iron framed bed he added to the space for her. The restraints he had installed on the frame were unused. The bed sheets unspoiled. He hadn't done what he was called to with Angel. He had failed.
Fear and panic welled within him as he realized what he had done. He had sent her to heaven. That much he was supposed to do, but he sent her dirty. Sent her with the Dark Angel's seed in her. He didn't cleanse her, he just sent her.
He had broken the rules, the sacred trust between him and the Father. He broke the rules. There could be no dirty angels in heaven, not even or especially The Angel. He had doomed her. Tears filled his eyes and fell upon her lovely face. She looked so at peace, but he knew the truth. Her soul, with crimson wings, was bound for hell. She would sit at the right hand of the Devil. The Devil he now served. That was never his intention never what he wanted. He took the brightest soul in all the universe and sent her straight to hell. The glory that was to be the Father's was now the Serpent-tongued Sinners. A careless rage-fueled coarse and guttural cry escaped his parched and trembling lips. He had sent her to the Devil.
What had he done? What had he done? She couldn't be. She wasn't? Oh God. Panic struck his heart and soul as his anger faded. He hadn't cleansed her. She wasn't moving. She hadn't taken a breath. She didn't blink.
Alex removed his hand from Rayne's throat and crawled off of her chest. Tears filled his eyes.
"What-wha-a-a," his hands shook as he covered his mouth and backed slowly away from Rayne's body. "What have I done?" Sobs escaped him. "I'm sorry. I wronged you. I took your Angel. She's not--," He broke off and started to wail. "No. No. Noooo!" He screamed to any that might be listening as he repeatedly slapped his palms on the sides of his head violently. What had he done? Gone was the pain from the arm Angel had broken. Gone was any feeling but fear and anguish. He looked at her unmoving form and felt a burning in the back of his throat as bile coated it moments before what was left of the contents of his stomach splattered on the floor. Weak and feeble, fear controlling his body, Alex attempted to stumble up the stairs and away from the empty Angel as fast as he could.
