My Guardian Angel

My Guardian Angel

Prologue

Some say you don't appreciate life, until you lose it. I suppose that could be said true for some people. As I felt my heart beats slowly start to decrease I idly wondered at this phrase. Had I not appreciated life until now? Truthfully I didn't care if I had or not. Life screwed me over, why should I appreciate it?

As death's cold hand pressed down on my chest I wasn't thinking of my own life anyways. I'd lived a full seventeen years, what was there to regret? Besides I couldn't be so selfish as to actually think of my life when there was a dying angel in front of me. My angel.

Pushing back these thoughts I concentrated on the pale face of my personal piece of heaven. How was I blessed with an angel? Luck. There's no other answer than that, because if you looked at my life I obviously didn't deserve someone like him. He said it was the other way around, but he'd always had self confidence issues, then again who was I to talk?

I let out a couple choice curse words as I felt pain strike my chest again. I had to hurry or I might die before I could save him. The pain was ridiculous. Who knew that a stupid piece of pointy metal could hurt you so much?

Damn goblin. I thought vehemently. Brushing away my dark hair I focused on his face. It was white, way too white. I knew that he was as good as dead, unless I acted quickly. Grimacing I started to crawl towards his side, ignoring the small trail of blood I was leaving behind. Breathing heavily I shuffled up next to him and grabbed his hand. It was ice cold. I knew that if I was going to save him I had to hurry. I had to look at him one last time though. Slowly I realized I didn't mind dying so much. Not with my last sight being him. Who could complain if he was the last thing they ever saw? Pathetically, I drunk in his presence, like a man who'd just been told he was allowed one last breath of fresh air before he died.

I remembered all the time we had spent together, and I grinned as I remembered all the things he'd broken. As I thought I remembered the looks he'd given me. It wasn't like all that cliché nonsense, you know "I felt like I was the only girl in the room," and all that. Actually when I made eye contact with him, I felt safe, which, in my opinion, is a much better feeling. I felt loved, because his eyes told me more than a thousand words could. They told me they didn't care about what I'd done, or who I was, they told me he loved me, for some inexplicable reason, he loved me.

He wasn't perfect, though. I know, I know, what lovesick girl says the guy of her dreams isn't perfect?! That's exactly what made me attracted to him though. His imperfections. The red bands tattooed around his wrists and ankles, the scar on his cheek, his violent tendencies. I don't know why, but knowing that he wasn't perfect... well it kind of made him perfect. Perfectly imperfect maybe? You probably think I'm crazy, but hey who's the one with the guy here?

His shaggy black hair fell across his face and I softly brushed it away and felt how warm his forehead was. It was burning with fever. I wished his eyes were open so I could see their dark crimson speckled color one more time. He was always afraid that the black-red mixture would scare me, but I loved them, his eyes were like mine, different. People were afraid of us because of our eyes... and, well, other reasons.

Instead of wallowing in my stupid emotions I looked away. Daydreaming wasn't going to make my job any easier so I brushed away my distracting memories and gritted my teeth, determination etched in all of my moribund features. Closing my eyes I took my hands away from his and placed them on his chest. Skin contact always made things quicker.

Slowly I focused all my energy into my hands and started to concentrate on what I was doing instead of wondering if it hurt to die. To distract myself I thought about how in a few seconds he'd be okay. He'd be alive and that was all that mattered, even if I was dead.

I'd never really been good at resisting temptation so I, of course, peeked open my eyes and ran a hand through his hair. I'd miss him. Then I placed my hands back over his heart closing my eyes again, I couldn't look at him anymore. If I looked at his face that would mean I would know the second he woke up and the second that I would die. In that second I would see everything. Especially the pain. I just wouldn't be able to see the grief on his face when he realized what I'd done. He would never understand. If the last time I saw those beautiful eyes had to be when they were filled with anger and betrayal, I didn't know if I would be able to die in peace. Not while knowing he was unhappy. I mean of course I knew he was going to be unhappy no matter what, but seeing it is a little too much.

He would automatically know what I'd done, and he would be mad. He'd meant me for to live, and him to die. One last heroic effort, the moron. As often as he'd called me stubborn he would never realize the full extent of my stubbornness until now because there was no way I would let him die when I knew I could save him. Angrily I held back tears. He was an idiot. I told him time after time that I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but did he listen? Well since he was so bent on getting himself killed for me, I might as well repay the favor.

There was nothing I could do, though, about his first sight when he woke up being my dead body. It's not like I can leap behind a rock as soon as he woke.

Shaking my head bitterly I tuned out all of my thoughts like he had taught me to, I'd wasted enough time already thinking about him. If I kept it up he really would be nothing more than a memory. That comfortable warmth started to flow over me, just like it always had, but this time it was flooding out of me instead of into me. I was transferring it to him. He once told me it was my "life force." I'd rolled my eyes, because really, life force? It sounds like something out of Star Trek.

Before I knew it my body quickly started to leak all of its warmth and it oddly felt kind of nice, sort of like a pillow was being pressed down on me, yet I could still breath. I found myself embracing this pillow of sorts, even though I knew I was actually embracing my death. Involuntarily, and stupidly, I opened my eyes to get just one last look of him before I passed on. I was starting to think I had a problem. His eyes were starting to flutter so I knew he was alive.

With out realizing it I smiled. I knew he was going to be alright. If he woke up before I was done though, everything would be destroyed because it's likely that we'd both die if I stopped. So I pressed my hands down harder and released what I had left in me. A sharp pain shot through me and I collapsed, exhausted.

Damn, I thought death was supposed to be painless! The comfortable warmth I'd felt pressing down on me had disappeared and instead there was pain, lots of pain. I couldn't help myself I let out a tiny scream, which he hopefully hadn't heard. Before I closed my eyes I saw him sit up and look around dazedly. I could only imagine the confusion he felt, that first thought of, 'wait... where am I?' and 'wasn't I dead?' With these last strange thoughts in my head he turned around

And saw me. The look on his face was worse than I'd imagined. I'd thought, hoped, I would see anger, maybe a deep betrayal of trust or something, not what I was seeing now. After it sunk in that he was sitting up and I was lying pale on the ground he grabbed my hands and shook me, shouting my name and other words that weren't registering in my brain. The look on his face was fear. Cold blooded fear that kept you up at night, the kind you felt all over your body because it had gripped you like a parasite and wasn't letting go.

Helplessly I lifted my eyes up to his and saw something in them I'd never seen before, tears. He was crying... for me. I had an angel crying over me as I died.

Pathetically I tried to fight the suffocating death that was enveloping me, suddenly wanting to live, wanting to wipe away his tears and say, it's alright, I'm here, I'm okay... I couldn't though. I was too weak, like always. All I could do was force my eyes to look into his as I felt them slowly turn lifeless. I knew I'd given up the fight. He knew it too.

I saw his lips form a word, maybe a sentence, but I couldn't hear it. My eyes closed and I became aware of nothing, not even my own heart beat.

A/N: I've had this story on my mind for a while, but I'm still working on the plot. I decided to post the beginning while I work out some kinks, so I'm gonna be editing a LOT. It's going to take a REALLY long time for me to update chapters since I'm still really working on this. I hope you guys like these chapters though!

- IFightWithInk