Fall

chapter one

(I'm not too great at writing so please forgive me hehe)

Samandriel stood, high up on the bridge on Harkendale Street, just above the lake that ran for miles and miles, dropping off into an abyss of water, which eventually would lead to the ocean. It was, in fact, up here when Samandriel felt the most calm, the most serene. But here is where his mind had a war. Do I jump? Do I not? If I jump, will the fall upon the water kill me? Will I plummet far below, sink to the bottom, where air will leave me?

He looked up, skyscrapers looming brightly in the distance, he felt the wind against his skin and smelt the slight smell of water as it crashed into the rocks below.

He sighed once more, thinking over how much hate he had for himself, picking and poking every flaw and imperfection, every weakness and limitation.

First of all, he hated his name. Samandriel. It didn't settle right on his tongue, and it was such a mouthful. Of course, his mother used to tell him that Samandriel was named after an angel - an angel of imagination - that he should be proud to bear the name of such an angel. His brothers were named after angels, too. Castiel, the angel of Thursday, Gabriel, the youngest archangel, messenger of God, and the oldest, Michael, the oldest archangel and God's right-hand man.
Of course, his mother had so much faith in angels, and if she had such faith, why didn't they save her? She prayed and she prayed and they did nothing but sit on their high horse in heaven and watch her die.

Samandriel cringed. He hated thinking of angels, and after his mother died, his faith was cracked.

He hated the way his brothers looked at him, like he was weak, fragile. He wanted to go back to the days where Gabriel pulled pranks and smiled all the time, now he's just an ass that looks down upon Samandriel, like he's too weak to even acknowledge.

His brothers thought he wasn't broken enough, he didn't mourn enough when their mother passed, oh but if only they knew. If only they knew of Samandriel's wallowing in self-hate, and the burn marks etched into his hips and thighs, if only they knew.
He looked down on the water, contemplating once again to jump or to not. It was a constant battle when he stood atop here, but today, he won and stepped down. It was late, possibly too late, so he began on his walk home.
And on that walk home, he once again began counting every flaw and blemish in him, the way he talked - he hated it. It sounded so soft, so weak. He hated it so much.

Of course, that little voice in his head rang, too real to ignore, but too faded to assume it was actually her.

"You are so beautiful, my love," his mothers voice rang out in his head and he stopped walking, clenching his eyes closed. Not today, Samandriel, no break downs, he told himself, and after picking up the shattered pieces of himself, he opened his eyes and once again begun to walk home.

As he walked in, he saw his father sitting at the table, reading some newspaper, something Samandriel would have no interest in, and his father looked up, only to cast his eyes back down once he saw the broken boy. Samandriel sighed once more and walked along the hallway, to his room. He heard Gabriel and Michael talking in Michael's room and stopped to listen. The talking ceased and Samandriel assumed that they must of heard him, so he walked past and slipped into his room.

His room was nothing special, just a small room with a small closet and a small bed pressed up against the wall farthest to the door. His walls were a plain white color and his door was a deep brown wood. His sheets were white, his pillow was white, his comforter was white. It was boring.
Samandriel could care less, honestly. All he cared about was sleeping, and slipping away into his dreams, where he didn't have to worry about his brothers and his father and the rude kids at school. He felt more alive in his own dreams.