I let the archangel take me, in hopes of protecting my family from the self appointed God that was once my lover.
I battled with heartache, a disability, and addiction. My brothers needed my help, but I couldnt be there for them.
And things only go...
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Kind soul, Dwight. He remembered. The night closed in. No more light in the windows. He changed the buzzing, dim over heads bulbs out. Made it brighter. Gave me a flashlight. I was glad I healed him, even if Pretty Bird didn't like it.
He let me have drinks. More than I should have. But it was nice. The voices were quieter. I was more confused, understood even less, but whiskey promised I didn't have to care. Forgot I was waiting. Forgot I was lost. I played with my flashlight at the ceiling, lying on a booth with half my head and hair dangling in the aisle. After it got dark, a couple other customers came, each one had gotten a beam of light in the face from me the second they walked in. Just so I could laugh. Dean was no different. He winced and shielded his eyes with his forearm. "Ah! What the f-..Hazel!?"
I clicked the button off, smiling. Laughing. "Dean." He had to smile too, walking over to me. I rolled, instead of sitting up. Fell under the table. Laughing. Crawling out and jump-hugging Sad Sword. Almost knocking him over. "Heh, ok, ok...I missed you too," he said, putting me down with a scowl, "Are...are you drunk?"
"No." Lies made me sway sideways.
"Yes," came the deep reproach of my angel walking up behind him. I just giggled. Whiskey said I dont have to care. He took my arm firmly and made me come with him to sit at the far end of the bar. Dean followed and took seat opposite side of me. Trapped in overbearing sandwich. Too much care.
"What happened to sober living, Haze?" my brother asked, not quite as upset.
"Mm...whiskey has soul. Her songs say I can be calm."
He pouted a satisfied lip. "Can't argue with that."
"Dean," Cas chided him.
"What? She was sober for..." He stopped. He was being careful. Locked his mind. Clever sword finally learned. "For a long time. Its not heroin."
"Herion has no soul...songs are empty notes on false strings."
"See? Soul food."
Pretty Bird gave up with a shake of his head. "I'm just concerned she might...think she needs it."
"It does make the voices quiet..." I hiccupped, not helping my cause. Dwight tried to pour me another. Angel took it away. "I'm sorry, Hazel, you had your fun but that's enough."
"She's not a child, Cas..." Sweet brother. Always on my side. Touched his face. So young outside. So old inside.
"No, but she..." Angel was being careful too, "can't be left to her own devices."
Whiskey told me to be angry. Whispering insults and paranoia in my head. I slapped the bar. "Why!? Why are your colors so careful? Something is wrong...wrong with me? I dont...I dont understand..." Whiskey was running scared. Voices coming back. Lost my place in the book.
