The Angel Cries for God

Chapter 6

Nicholas 

"Nicholas!"

Velore was calling him, but how did she know his name? She wasn't supposed to know that.

She was looking at him with pleading eyes that made him flinch. How could she be looking at him? He didn't exist for her.

He took a step back as he realized she really was staring at him, one way or another she was able to see him now and it frightened him. A part of him had always wished that this would happen, that his voice wouldn't fall on deaf ears or the many times he had saved flower pots from falling over would finally be acknowledged. But now that it was a reality, he was scared.

"Nicholas!," she repeated with more force this time, reaching out one pale hand in his direction. He swallowed a lump in his throat, she was pointing at him; truly seeing him. He hadn't existed to her for fifteen years and all of a sudden she was pleading for him to come forward, calling his name, which she had no way of knowing. It was all so very wrong.

And then he saw it.

With her other hand she held fast to her neck, pushing on it with severe force as blood cascaded through her fingers and onto the surrounding floor. She was standing in a pool of her own blood, her white shirt stained a whole new color. It was like a punch to the gut for Nicholas. He was supposed to protect her and yet here she stood, dying slowly as she finally acknowledged his existence.

"Help me, please," she whimpered. There seemed to be gallons of the stuff spilling on the floor, a never ending waterfall of sticky red liquid that filled his nose with it's metallic smell to the point of overflowing. He tried to step forward but his foot would not move. He was melded to the place, his overwhelming desire to help the girl in front of him denied by his own body. He tried to call her over to him, but his lips wouldn't part. He was in an eternal standstill, watching as the one person he loved bleed to death in front of him.

"Why won't you help me?" Tears were forming in her eyes, her hand quivering from where it held whatever wound in her neck in place. I'm trying, he wanted to scream but time kept him still as stone; a statue observing life passing by.

"Save me!"

In an instant she shed the skin of the shaking, dying girl, instead taking on the form of a wild-eyed animal. Her bloodied hands dug into his neck, cutting off the airflow with ease. Her eyes bore into his own, the pits of hell reflected in their once sweet green color. Her nails pierced his skin, releasing his own blood onto the floor to intermingle with her own.

"Why did you just stand there?," she whispered in his ear, hands tightening around his windpipe even further. He could only choke on his own words.

"DIE!"

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Nicholas jolted awake in a cold sweat, his shirt plastered to him and his hair dripping wet. His heart was beating wildly in his chest like a caged bird, the dull thud pounding in his ears as the last remnants of his dream faded away. It took him a moment to fully gain consciousness, to slam back into his body and become aware that he was in reality and not inside his own head. He felt heavy, almost as if he was drugged but he knew it was just the grogginess of sleep fooling him. With a lot of effort he managed to lift a trembling arm and brush back the hair sticking to his forehead, a normal action that for most would mean nothing, but when he saw the red-stained bandage wrapped around his wrist memories flooded his head in a rush.

He saw Velore's dead eyes. A glint of white teeth. Blood. And then, what? Nothing, he must've passed out. But he should've died, right? He was still bleeding when he hit the ground and lost his vision. He gave a second glance at his wrist and finally registered the bandage tied tightly around it, crusted blood assuring him that Velore had in fact, bitten him. 

She must've put it on him, he realized. But why? She had sucked his blood, pushed him to ground and watched as he bled out; she had wanted him dead. So then why had she saved him? A curious thought pushed its way up into his mind but he quickly dismissed it. Her teeth had sunken into his flesh, she did not care one ounce about him. Yes. She did not care.

"Nicholas?"

Speak of the Devil.

With his body still reeling from the blood-loss he couldn't move much and so he had to strain his eyes around in search of the tall girl, but from his vantage point all he could see was the ceiling and the tips of his shoes. Velore solved this problem easily by stepping conveniently into view above him, her feet just barely grazing his bruised rib cage. She studied him from above, her eyes sweeping over the defeated man laying in his own congealing blood. She showed no remorse or concern, just a steady curiosity that most kids possessed over dinosaur bones or a new class hamster. Of course, she wasn't like most kids.

"So I take it you're awake?"

He wanted something out of her, some sign that showed she valued him more than the people she discarded at whim, any emotion that would show him the little girl from long ago still resided deep within her. He was aching all over, a broken shell that lay crumbled at her feet and all she could do was examine him like an experiment that had gone wrong. Did he really mean nothing to her? Was he worthless?

With a sudden twitch of her head she broke into a thin-lipped smile, flopping onto his sore stomach as if he were a simple chair. He let out a low moan as the pain from earlier intensified at this sudden weight but she only laughed at this, throwing her head back with curls bouncing. 

"Oh come on! I didn't kick you that hard. You're such a baby," she lifted his bandaged arm into her lap, running her fingers over the white cloth that covered his wound. She was tender with her touch, something she had never shown before, but that didn't stop the weight of her body from hurting him still. She shifted her attention from his wrist to him, flashing him a white toothed grin as she poked his nose. A childlike gesture.

"You're blood was sweet, you know," she popped her lips, "almost like candy."

He didn't like the way that sounded and it certainly didn't entail very good things for him to come. Velore liked to say things like that, drop subtle hints as to what she was about to plan. When they passed a girl in the street she would say something like, "Oh! She looks healthy," and the next day Nicholas would be cleaning her blood from the walls. And from what had just occurred, he wasn't about to cross himself off the list.

"How about I just drink your blood from now on? You said yourself you don't like me killing people so why not just have you as my own personal blood-bank?" She studied her nails, a smug smile on her face as the power trip made her feel on top of the world. Nicholas knew it shouldn't be this way, that he should be the one with authority as her guardian; maybe things would've turned out differently if he hadn't been so submissive and eager to please. Maybe so many people wouldn't have had to die. But he knew that nothing would've stopped this from happening, he could never hurt Velore and sooner or later she'd realize that, causing her to become the boss once again. An endless cycle.

This fate was inevitable. He just hoped he could find a way to change it one day.

"Would you like that Nicholas? Or would you rather have me eat that disgusting cow fat!" She slammed her hand on his chest, right on the ribs. He reeled in response and tried to cough, but her body refused to let his chest expand any farther and so he ended up choking on un-exhaled air. She grinned.

"Whatever, I like what's going on now. I think I'll keep it this way." She patted his cheek, her fingers cooling the spot instantly. "And if I ever get the craving for candy, I can just eat you." She let out a foul cackle that rang throughout the decrepit house, the walls rattling as if in fear of her. Nicholas rattled along with them.

"You're my guardian angel," she stated, fluidly rising from her seat, "and that means you have to do what ever I say." She looked him dead in the eyes, pupils as black as night as her girlish demeanor faded in favor of the ruthless, manipulator she had evolved into. The memory of a happy, snowing afternoon years ago was replaced by the image of her bloodied fangs inside Nicholas's arm. It was becoming harder and harder for him to find the good in her anymore and the one thing he was trying to hold onto was slipping away more often. Soon he feared all those memories would be lost.

She beamed.

"And I say we go looking for my 'project'."