Show Me Love

It’s like saying an angel with a broken wing isn't an angel. No matter what they are on the outside, they’re still an angel and nothing can change that. You can’t say you’re not who you are because of something that happened to you. You may change a little along the way, but you’re always you. But there are the angels who break their wings to change themselves. They take who and what they are and try to destroy it. Then they go dark. They turn evil and something else takes over. But even those angels aren't completely gone. There’s always the part of them that stays, the part that’s still who they really are. I’ve met a dark angel like this before. She was stunningly beautiful, even with the long scar the diagonally bisected her face. Even her wings, blackened with ash and misshapen from abuse, were oddly compelling. She pulled me in almost instantly and I was instantly nothing but a remote control toy. But I can’t complain too much. I do live in a wonderful palace. It’s a bit dark and a little creepy, but majestic none the less. And everything I need is provided for me, whether it be food, or a drink, or even a friend to share my sorrows with. I’m treated fairly well here, nothing I truly would change, except one thing. There is one thing here that I hate with such fierceness that it controls me sometimes… What was it again? “Sebastian! Get in here right now, I need to ask you a favor!” Oh, that’s right. The one thing I hate more than the devil himself, her.