The black winged angels had destroyed him. He felt a deep burning where his heart had been. Of course, he had lost it hundreds of years ago. A brief memory of him walking hand in hand with one of the black winged angels flashed in his mind. A name struck out to him: Peter. With thoughts scattered, the broken being opened his eyes from the darkness.
His vision was blurry. In fact, everything he saw had a soft glow to it. He stood and sat straight up, opposite a river. His gaze wandered into the reflective surface of the water - when it did, he stood up, shocked.
Another name flashed before his mind: Daniel. The name called out to him, as if it belonged to his being. It was most likely his. Daniel stared down at his hideous appearance, and silently winced. He stared at dark, maroon eyes that gleamed with power. The dim moonlight revealed him further. He had no skin; instead, a dark purplish substance floated eerily off of his body in splotches. He swung his arm forward and the substance flew off, splattering the water like an ink blot. It dissolved into the air. His entire being consisted of this energy.
Daniel felt it brimming within him. What purpose could he possibly have, if he were a monster? Memories began to flood into his mind. Memories of pain and sorrow blinded him. They provoked what traces of emotions he had, filling his thoughts with revenge. A false sense of justice was born in him - a justice that called out to kill. Names came in droves: Michael, Tracy, Sarah, Greg, Surno. He fell to his knees and tried to scream out in anguish to stop the pain. No sound echoed from him. Daniel stared into the water again and saw that his face was featureless save his eyes.
His body was pure energy. He still retained wings, however, upon further inspection. They were morphed into bat wings though, and still held the eerie incandescent glow of the energy that made him. They made me this. They brought this upon me he thought. A seething hatred brewed in him. His maroon eyes flared up and steam hissed out of the corners of his eyes, disappearing in the night air. His message and mission was clear to him, now. Revenge.
---
Taylor rolled over in her bed. She buried her face into a pillow and groaned. Slumber was difficult to obtain tonight. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, sighing. A gentle tapping came from her window and she squeaked abruptly, bringing her blanket around herself.
"Mind if I come in?" A soft voice asked.
Taylor smiled. "You don't have to knock, Michael." His ghastly figure phased through Taylor's bedroom wall, stopping before her. His outline was aglow in the moonlight that crept in through the window.
"Sorry. You might have been changing, or on the phone, or like, changing, or..." Taylor giggled. Michael smiled sheepishly.
"It's almost one in the morning, Michael." She laid back down in her bed and watched him at an angle.
Michael sat on her bed. "I apologize for waking you then. Since you're awake, and I'm awake, we could, uh, have a chat?" Taylor yawned.
"Who says 'have a chat' anymore?" She sat up wearily. "Because you asked so nicely, I guess we could talk for awhile." Michael smiled giddily.
"Oh joy!" he said happily. "Perhaps we could talk about your day, then?" Taylor yawned and closed her eyes.
"We always talk about my day," she said sleepily. "How was your day?" Michael scratched his head.
He laughed weakly. "To be honest, I didn't think my day was that eventful, actually. Where can I start? Well, Surno gave me a rose." He paused and thought over the rest of the events.
Taylor giggled. "Isn't Surno a guy?"
"What? Oh! Not like that! I mean, he's a good friend, and he's a, uhm," Taylor laughed at his babbling. He took a deep breath. "Anyway, I was stopped by Tracy before I could leave the city. He then introduced me to a lady named Sarah. I spent a good amount of time with her." Taylor stifled a laugh, but couldn't help but smile. Michael saw the look on her face then yelped. "No no! Not like that! Jeez, you make my day sound so... perverted."
Taylor shrugged. "Not my fault that you keep walking into it," she said.
Michael sighed. "I'll keep going. When I left the city, I ran into a familiar lady - Lily. I think you've seen her before; she was the therapist. Uh, Miss Lim. Does that ring a bell? I gave her the rose from Surno, then rushed over to meet you. That was my day." Taylor opened her droopy eyes.
"Miss Lim? I saw her after your accident. Wait, how could that be? I couldn't see any angels until Peter died," she said curiously.
Michael hummed. "Hmm. Is it possible that Lily has those kind of powers? I know for a fact that she is allowed to persuade humans to their deaths to become an angel. But those are for the humans chosen by Peter. Unless," he trailed off. Michael faced her with sad eyes. "Unless you were one of the humans Peter wanted to become a Soul Angel."
Taylor and Michael stared at each other for awhile. After the minutes had passed, Taylor broke her silent gaze first. "I... I'm getting tired." She laid back down and rested her head against her pillow. Michael stood up and stared out of the window.
"I'm getting tired too," he mumbled to himself. Michael stole a glance at Taylor - she had fallen asleep. Her breathing was slow and peaceful. "I'm getting tired of this shit." He sighed heavily.
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