The Fallen Angel

Chapter XI

Once I had stepped in to my car, hot tears began to flow down my cheeks and they wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop the aching feeling, the heavy weight pressing against my chest and cutting my breaths short. I truly wanted to die then and there. It felt like I had no reason to live anymore, no reason to hold on to hope.

And then I realized why Nathan had said the things that he said. He knew what was waiting for me, and probably beyond that as well. I held my head in my hands, a pulsing wave of pain flowing through my head from crying so much. It seemed like that was all I was doing lately, crying. And I was tired of it. I was tired of everything.

I started the vehicle after a long while of sitting in the solitude of my car. I was still shaking, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. I decided to go back to the house. I needed to know who they were, and would take anything I would get.

I parked my car a little further down the street and walked the rest of the way to avoid any suspicion. No one had ever bothered to renovate it. It was falling apart, left behind to be savaged by time. I made my way to the back, making the assumption that the front door was locked. The backyard was covered in old furniture and pieces of scrap metal that had been damaged in the fire. I walked up the stairs and onto the back porch, where plants had begun growing between the boards. The curtains had been drawn on the inside and the patio door was locked. So I picked up an old metal pipe against my better judgement and swung it with all my strength, breaking the glass door. I backed away, fragments flying through the air and waited until the deafening silence had settled again.

I stepped through, the glass crunching under my dirty white shoes. Nothing had been displaced or moved, it was as if someone still lived here, expect for the endless amount of dust covering every surface it could find. It was as if no one had bothered to clean up, like no one cared.

I swiped my finger over the wood table, the dust clinging to it. I walked around carefully, and noticed a picture frame on the living room coffee table. I cleaned it off with my sleeve but when it wouldn't clear up, I smashed it on the ground and retrieved the picture from it. I stared at it, holding it with the most delicate touch as if it were going wither away in my hands.

It was them, smiling for the camera without a care. My mother had kind eyes and my father held back his grin, attempting to keep his tough image. And it made a pain settle in chest that I would never meet them, more than I wanted to admit. I put it down with a sly smile and looked around. There was nothing left for me. And maybe it would be better if there wasn't anything left at all.

I opened a few kitchen drawers until I found a box of matches. I retrieved some cooking oil from the cupboard and splattered it on the table and on the floor, waiting for my next move.

"I'm pretty sure what you're doing is illegal," I heard a voice behind me but I didn't bother to turn around. I knew exactly who it was.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered and he walked up to stand in front of me.

"I could ask you the same question," he slid his hands in his pocket. He was wearing a leather jacket and a grey t-shirt that clung to his skin.

"I'm finishing someone's work off for them, because this clearly didn't happen by accident. I've come to learn that nothing seems to be a coincidence anymore," I said annoyingly.

"You know this won't accomplish anything." I looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. Maybe I needed someone to talk me out of it.

"You can burn it to the ground, but there will still be ashes. You'll still have the memory of it, that aching feeling in your chest will still be there."

"At least it won't be in the way anymore. I'm sure no one will notice it's gone anyway." I glanced at him when he didn't answer. He stared at me, contemplating what he should say.