An Angel and a Demon

Chapter 11

She was nowhere and everywhere. She felt space and time and light and purples and greys and blues and warmth and memory. Electrified. And then she felt herself in a place, somewhere beyond what was known by her. It was marble white with green, something that felt quite familiar. It was happiness and belonging and she felt like staying there. She glimpsed women reading in the sun and men playing catch with their children. She smelled freshly fallen rain and soil that felt like it could breathe life into something that had been dead for years. And then there was a gold sun, and it leaked into the scene, everlasting and warm.

And then there was nothing

She came back to her body. Felt it, on something soft. Cushion. Sofa. Smelled her mother’s favourite incense. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She stared up at the ceiling of her own house, trying to recollect everything that happened that night.

“Don’t sit up too fast,” said a voice, and she sat up with idiotic speed.

Immediately dizziness flooded her head and she slumped into a sitting position. Someone’s hands steadied her. She mumbled something inaudible. The man chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I don't intend to hurt you. In fact, I’m here to do the complete opposite,” he said. His voice was calming. She felt as if she had heard it before.

She took a few moments to breathe and then opened her eyes, looking around. They were in the lounge, the man sitting on the coffee table in front of her. He looked to be in his late 30s, sternly handsome, but he was nervous. She could see it in his eyes, the way he kept fidgeting with his hands. She didn’t have any strength in her to be scared.

“What are you doing?” she managed. Immediately, she wondered why she hadn’t asked one of the many more relevant questions flitting through her head.

He smiled, patiently.

“My name is Noah and I have a lot to tell you, and we don’t have a lot of time. I promise you, I’m not someone to be scared of, just let me show you… “ he said, reaching out and before she could stop him, his hand touched the side of her head and memory flooded her being.

***

She was five years old again, playing with her Legos on the floor. It was warm, sunny. She was filled with awe at the car she had just made. Her mother’s voice drifted through the door from downstairs.

“Sweetie, come down for lunch! Daddy's home!" 

She rushed out of the room, down the stairs and into the arms of her dad. He scooped her up, laughing. She remembered rubbing her hands on his cheeks, feeling his stubble.

"Dadda, are you gonna shave tomorrow?" she asked, holding his face in her hands.

He laughed and the scene faded into her at seven. She was lying in bed, scared, clutching her pillow, watching her bedroom window. Convinced there was something watching her, she climbed out of bed, walking to her parent's room. The passage was dark, the room door open a crack. Warm light bled a perfect line onto her face. She peaked through, seeing her parents hugging. Her dad had a suitcase. He was dressed to go out. Her mother was… crying. They broke off from the hug. Low voices. She didn't understand.

Her mother saw her peeking through and smiled through the tears. She walked to Marilyn and picked her up, sitting her down on the bed. Her dad knelt down in front of her, smooth faced.

"Where's dadda going?" she asked, playing with the fluff of her pillow.

They didn't answer her. Her father looked at her, with sad eyes. He touched the side of her head and she felt warmth flood her head.