He felt hollow.
Even surrounded by the crowds of children,
particularly surrounded by the crowds.
The unrelenting noise,
mindless chattering of school girls
and deep rumbling tones of boys pretending to be men.
The sounds mixed, bled into one another,
creating a noxious gas that wafted towards him,
filling his ears and mind and lungs.

Home.
Where he was blissfully and tortuously alone.
Conflicting thoughts raged inside,
fighting each other in a never ending battle for dominance
called life.
All that anger, dead hope, those murdered dreams,
pumped through his veins with every beat of his heart.
He found relief in the ragged edge of an overused
paperclip against swollen skin.

Night.
When the demons come out to play.
Clawing inside his head, spitting acid that corrodes amd eats away.
He used to try to fight them off, resist, but quickly learned
You can’t resist the Devil.
So he lay there in the dark, helpless against the abuse.
The soft whispering sharply turned into screams
of evil beasts, writhing and howling in agony.
They were his own.

Nightmares
would play out before his very eyes.
Monstrous beings of unnatural shapes, deformed.
They burned him,
letting hot flames lick tender skin into a black charred submission.
He would cry out with pain, tears streaming down his face,
mixing with blood and fire.
So often were these visions
he accepted them as dreams.

School.
Day in and day out, the monotony was nauseating.
That poison became too much.
He, who had seen so much, showed no hint of it on his face.
He trudged up the stairs with the weight of the world pressing down on him.
Breathing that fresh air from the roof he could finally think clearly.
For the first time in a long time, he was happy.
The first genuine grin in a long time broke out across his face.
He took his place on the ledge.

Bang.
He fell looking at the sky, wind at his back.
He finally felt, not so empty.
He was full with feeling, pain, fear, excitement, a bullet.
He stretched out his arms and legs as if he was flying,
he was. He felt free with
the air rushing through his hair and his fingers,
he felt the warmth of the sun,
and then cold grey concrete and black.

Crack.
Lying there on the sidewalk, like a scene from a movie.
The blood pooled out from under him,
it spread out from his back
giving him the wings he felt in those last moments.
People peered out of windows.
The girls turned away in horror
as did the boys. The teachers began to break down.
At heart it was a building of children.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was awake
in the empty class room.
Even the janitors had left for home.
She waited, locked in as the cool glow of dusk
faded to the black void of night.
The windows were shut, locked, but there was a slight breeze.
She shivered when she heard it,
a whisper rode on the wind,
“Close your eyes, and don’t open them until morning.”

Darkness.
Surrounded her, the sun a mere memory.
White light filtered through her shut eyelids.
Dismissing the earlier message, she slowly peeked out
to see an angel with beautiful glowing wings.
He stood at the center of the room, grinning at her,
arms spread out, welcoming, beckoning to her,
so she went.

Slowly,
she reached out towards the heavenly messenger.
Hesitant, shaking fingers coming to meet
angelic firm, dependant hands.
They connected.
In a burst of light it was obvious
that something was wrong.

White.
Pure luminosity that once emanated from the boy
grew tinged with crimson that faded to an opaque scarlet.
His face contorted into that of a beast,
all sharp teeth with full onyx eyes,
glimmering with only the worst of intentions.

Slash.
A strip of fraying flesh
framed the gash that ran across her neck.
Blood gushed out.
She once again closed her eyes.

Warm
hands cupped her face.
She leaned into them against her will,
fear paralyzing her from the neck down.

Snap.
Her neck was jerked
sharply to one side.

Sagging,
the absence of life left her body an empty shell.

And the angel smiled another genuine smile.