Broken Angel (part 1)

I am Angel. I am worthless. I'm an empty person. Sometimes I feel as if I have no soul, that I live only to exist, to be another meaningless clone. A person should be useful, and yet I was created to die. I was a mistake. Does that mean my life is now meaningless? That I exist to be a failure... Perhaps. But I will not accept it, I will not let my existence go to waste.

I lived with my mother and her boyfriend, whoever she was dating that month. My mother has learned that even though I was a burden, she could not get rid of me. So, she at least tried to be a good mother and would even cook dinner a few times a week, if I was lucky. My father lived far away. He had a family now, and I was no longer a part of his life. So, it was just my mother and me; two people who hated each other and had to fight just to survive.

I've never known what it meant to be wealthy or go to a store and not care what the pricetag was or whether or not the items were on sale. Instead, I had to buy the cheapest soap, expired groceries, and if I was lucky I could even get a used pair of jeans. Yet, I never complained. I knew that I was lucky to have food on the table and actually live in a home, no matter how rundown and empty it was. I also learned to despise rich kids who teased the rest of us just because we were cursed.
That is life... fighting for survival and treating everyone as an enemy. I was fighting alone against the world. A cold place filled with empty people with empty dreams.

Funny, isn't it? America is supposed to be the land of opportunity, the land of freedom... instead it was a prison of fake beauty and lies. I was always different from the rest of them, I always stood out. I didn't give a damn about petty problems, like if that boy likes me, or what color of eyeshadow I should wear today... instead I had real shit to worry about, like whether or not my mom had passed out from her countless bottles of booze, or if we had enough money to pay the rent this month. I also had real dreams. I didn't have money to go to school, but I dreamt that someday I would be successful. I would get out of this hell hole, become a famous writer or singer, and make a difference. I would make people care, I would open their eyes and make them see the truth.

I wasn't born in America. I came here when I was 10 years old, and have been stuck here ever since. I am not an American, and being mistaken for one has always been an insult to me. Maybe I have too much pride for my own good, but I believe that one must always be proud of his or her country, because there's nothing more important than one's homeland. But it was not easy to live in Ukraine. Even there, I was an outsider. You see, I was born with a curse. My mother once said that the fortune-teller told her that a tragedy would befall her and she would have to protect a cursed soul from the rest of the world. Then she got pregnant with me and realized that I was that tragedy.

I was born beautiful and more or less normal. Yet, even as a baby I was different. Instead of having the blonde hair and blue eyes, which was so common in my homeland, I was born with black hair, green eyes, and intensely pale skin. The black hair made me appear more pale than I was, and because of how skinny I was, I looked horribly sick and emaciated. Then again, we never had enough to eat anyway, so my appearance wasn't far from the truth. Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, I was born with a curse. I am not exactly sure what to call it, but I had a certain talent. It only worked with skin to skin contact, so I refused to be touched ever since it developed. In fact, I wore gloves and layers of clothing almost my entire life, trying to cover as much of my skin as possible, in case I brushed up against someone and found out more than I wanted to know about them, and on accident, take their precious energy.

It all started that one day. I still remember it well, although it all happened many years ago. It was such a cold winter, the snow had covered every roof and every piece of concrete. The streets were silent and abandoned. Everyone was already at home with their families, sitting in front of their burning fireplaces, sipping hot chocolate and watching reruns on their large screen TVs. I was walking down the street, trying to waste some time before I had to return to my mother. Something horrible had happened. I was blamed for the death of one of my friends, and now I was even more of an outcast. I was treated as a criminal, being questioned by the cops for hours, and given dirty looks at work. I was not only hated by my mother, but also by everyone in the community. By trying to be good and warning him of his death, I apparently killed him. I'm amazed sometimes at how desperate people are to place blame on others. Then again, maybe it's all for the better. I don't deserve to live among people, maybe it would be better to rot in jail.

The wind blew through my hoodie, my body shivered and crinkled against the cold. I could see my breath in the icy air as numbness consumed  my body. My footsteps were the only thing I could hear, crunching against the fresh snow. It was so beautiful, the dark empty street, except for the damn street lights that molested the darkness. So silent, so cold. Almost perfect. Then the emptiness was broken, filled with a presence so strong that I immediately slowed down. I sensed it, the tingling of danger that spread across my back. Someone was watching me, following me although I heard no other footsteps. Who was this being that lurked in the darkness behind me? Was I going crazy? No... I was already crazy but at least I wasn't paranoid.

I finally heard the footsteps echoing through the street. They were slow and heavy. A man. Definitely a man. I turned around against my will and saw nothing. My instincts told me to run. I sped up down the street, but continued walking. I will not be afraid, it was the stubborness that I inherited from my father that ended up changing my future.

The footsteps seemed to grow louder and clearer. He was closing in on me, whoever he was. There was no way I could outrun him, I already knew that. So, I turned around once more. Silence. The street seemed to grow darker, or maybe it was just my vision. Every cell of my body was tingling with this unknown sensation. I have never felt a presence like this before. Whoever he was, he knew.

"Who are you?" My voice echoed into the street.

Nothing. He didn't answer, but I could finally make out a shape standing some feet before me. It was like a shadow with no definition, just a shape.

"What do you want?" I tried again, and saw it moving. He was walking towards me, as if propelled by the wind that blew against my face. I finally saw him as a person. A man, tall and slim, wearing a long black trenchcoat and heavy plated boots. His light brown hair fell in waves against his sculpted white face. Like a mannequin, he appeared. So untouched and pure. His eyes, however, showed otherwise. They were black orbs contrasting with his skin and seemed to absorb every piece of light around them. He stopped a few feet away, staring at me as if I had somehow disturbed his purpose. His lips did not move but were firmly pressed against his teeth.

"I asked you a question." I said, sounding annoyed. "What do you want?"

"You are not afraid of me." He stated, his voice so soft and expressionless. "Why?"

"Why would I be?" I replied.

"I could kill you right now, don't you know?" His lips curved into a smirk. I copied his expression.

"So? I'm not afraid of death, don't you know?" The smirk disappeared from his face, he must have heard the seriousness in my voice.

"Won't your loved ones miss you?" He asked. I thought of my mother and all the bruises that she had left on my body. The alcohol that seemed to seep from her every pore.

"No."

"Then it seems my job will be easier than I thought."

"What are you talking..." Before I could finish, I felt his hands on my arms. I tried to struggle, but a rush of air seemed to engulf me, causing intense pain to throb through my entire body. We were rushing through the darkness moving higher and higher. The lights became flickers around us as we sped through the air. My head was burning like fire until I finally lost consciousness.