angelic | jean kirstein

chapter eight

ANGELIC – CHAPTER EIGHT

The fire roared for hours, the scent of decaying corpses had covered the air, and smoke filled the soldier's lungs though nobody complained, nobody even brought it up, everyone too consumed with their grief to dare complain when they had just returned from Hell.

Isabel was crouched on the ground, knees pulled to her chest hovering above the ground. Her eyes stared blankly ahead of her, focused on the fire ahead. Of course all of the dead bodies weren't there, just those recovered. She only felt one thing as she stared ahead, an overwhelming sense of guilt.

She didn't feel sad anymore or angry, she felt guilty. So this is survivor's guilt? She thought, tearing her eyes away from her lost comrades. She was lucky enough to have only lost one person who she was rather close with, unlike many other of her comrades.

Over the course of the years she trained as a Cadet, she had formed a good bond with Marco despite not getting on with his best friend at the time. They had been paired up numerous times during combat training and they both had promised not to go easy on each other as he needed experience if he was going to work with the public - of course Isabel always took Marco down no problem no matter how many new techniques he tried.

"Stop going easy on me!" Marco whined as he threw his head back in protest. "I need to learn to fight properly, I'm going to be dealing with the public so please come at me full strength."

Isabel sighed and placed her hand on his shoulder, looking up a few inches to meet eye level. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

Marco clicked his tongue and nodded. "Please."

The silver-haired soldier nodded her head and took a few steps back, she discarded her sand coloured jacket and rolled up her sleeves, her lips curling upwards. "I don't want to hear any complaints, you asked for it."

The boy grinned before charging at her full force, though Isabel was a lot quicker and stronger than Marco despite him being bigger than her. She pulled her leg back and jumped into the air, twisting her body she collided her foot with the side of his head. Isabel's body twisted in the air before she landed on the ground, her feet spread out behind her and her right hand holding her up. Marco fell to the floor with a thud, his arms quickly moving to cover his head.

Isabel stood to her feet and wiped her hand on her white trousers before moving to stand above him. She crouched down beside his head and slowly removed his pale freckled fingers away from his head, her eyes full of concern. "Are you alright? I did warn you, Marco."

The boy hesitantly nodded his head and looked up at her, his ear tinged red from bleeding. Isabel sighed and stood, her hand stretched out for him to grab. She frowned. "Well now I feel bad."

"Don't." Marco said softly as he grabbed her hand and allowed her to pull him to her feet. "I asked you to, if I can take a kick to the head by you then drunken civilians or thugs should be no problem."

Isabel lifted her hand to his cheekbone and rubbed off the blood that had begun to slide down his skin. Marco's cheeks burned red at the contact and he forced his eyes to his feet. "How - how did you become so strong anyway?"

Her lips changed from the frown into a small peaceful smile. "I used to fight with some of the Scouts when I was a kid, playfully of course. I wanted to be big and strong like them so I could fight the titans with them." Her smile faulted. "I suppose I won't be able to fight alongside most of them now. They always. . . leave."

Marco placed a hand on her shoulder as he bent down to eye level. "If it makes you feel any better, Isabel, I won't leave. I'll visit you before and after every expedition, that's a promise!"