Just An Angel

"Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths."

But her breaths were very shallow and short. She could fight it off as long as she had a distraction. But now the feeling was isinging in her veins. It threatened to overwhelm her.

Breathe. In and out. She stared into the mirror and tryed to focus on her image. Long black hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at her. For a second, she didn't even recognize herself...

"Melanie!" her father shouted, "You didn't finish cleaning the kitchen. Get in here right now or your ground again."

"Yes, Dad." She couldn't complain. He had saved her, for now. But as soon as she finished all of his demands, she knew with a grim certainty what would happen. Unless she could get out.

"Dad, when I get done, can I go to June's house?" She tried to make herself sound apathetic, an emotion that her dad could understand."

"Be home by twelve at the latest."

"Sure.." Melanie said knowing that she wouldn't be. 4 a.m. seemed like a good time to her. Of course, she would get grounded, but she was already grounded until she was forty by her calculations.

Most of the dishes looked fairly clean already, so she tossed them into one of the cupboards. Her Dad would get mad whether they were actually clean or not. She took a glance at ther clothes; baggy cargo pants, a barely readable band-t, and some combat boots. They looked decent enough. June wouldn't care anyways if she had already gotten her fill.

"Bye, Dad." She bellowed as she slammed the door. He was already drunk, so she kicked it for good measure.

The elevator was occupied when she got to it. Some old lady smiled at her when she stepped in. Melanie smirked back. Old people gave her the creeps. Maybe it was their mothball, dead smell. She could never really figure it out.

Ten centuries later or so the evelator finally made it to the bottom floor. The raggedy apartments didn't seem like they would make it much longer. Bricks were missing in random places throughout the building. Windows with spider-cracks were also becoming more common. Melanie was going to move out as soon as she turned seventeen. But that seemed very far away.

The subway wasn't too crowded when she boarded. It was probably because of the hobos sitting in the corner. Melanie felt her smile settle into a smirk. Her father would probably end up like them in a few years. Poor, drunken, hopeless. The thought almost made her laugh. Almost.

June's apartment was littered with druggies. Grim faces, eyes bloodshot, it  always haunted her whenever she left. One man's face did especially.

Month's earlier an old man had stopped her before she could get up the stairs. His hair had been grey and stringy. The look in his eyes had been wild, but unguarded.

"Girl, stop I need..." he croaked.

But she had cut him off, she hated crack heads. All they could think about was getting their next fix.

"Leave me alone!" she had screached. The man then grabbed her arm with surprising strength.

"Your better than this."

"What...? What are you talking about?"

"You are better than this. Leave."

"I dont' know what your talking about, you have the wrong girl."

"No, no, I don't." he had said and the he had simply walked away.

It took the bruises on her arms weeks to finally dissapear. The memory didn't dissapear with them.

"Melanie.. Are you coming in?" June called. Her voice sounded very mellow.

"Yes, or course." she muttered. June wasn't very fun after she had gotten her fil. She was basically a pot head, which was minor compared to what most of the other people in her building did.

"Would you like a drag?" June giggled.

"Maybe later."

Maline had never really been into drugs. Pot wasn't really her cup of tea anyways. it mostly made her sleepy. As far as she could tell there was no fun in that.

"The guys are coming over later dear."

"Which guys?" June basically had two groups of people that she hung out with: the pot heads and the slightly more normal alcoholics.

"You know, Chris and Steve."

"Sounds fun."

It didn't really sound fun. Not in the least. Whenever June was high she liked to get extremely touchy-feely with guys. The thought made Melanie sick to her stomach.

June was beautiful, in a homely sort of way. Long brown locks covered her back almost completely. She had eyes that were cat green. Melanie didnt' really understand why the word cat came to mind when she thought of June. Perhaps it was the way she always seemed to be posed. Even when she was drugged out or completely wasted, June had a sort of grace about her. It truly disgusted Melanie sometimes. Guys ate that shit up though.

Chris was one of Melanie's least favorite people. He was handsome in a dead way. It seemed like there were no thoughts going on behind his lifeless eyes. Sometimes it would take him a moment or two in order to realize that he had been spoken too, which was rather unnerving.

He barely ever spoke to anyone, except maybe Steve. June had whispered something about his being slow. But Melanie wasn't quite sure if she believed that. Maybe he just thought that since no one ever seemed to care about what poeple like him had to to say, that it was to his advantage not to waste his breath.

On the other hand, it was hard to get Steve to shut up. He had an addiction to Monster energy drinks. They were his weakness. With all that sugar, shockingly enough he was barely a hundred and twenty pounds. Melanie suspected that he did some durg on the side but she could never be sure.

Steve was also June's most recent playmate. June and he were still in the puppy-dog stage. They couldn't look at one another without getting all googly-eyed. It was rather sickening. Of course, soon enough, that stage would end. Then the fighting would probably begin.

"June," she whined, "I'm feeling really sick. I should head home."

"Fine. Suit yourself. We'll have more fun without you anyways."

Her tone didn't reveal much. Melanie couldn't tell whether she was serious or not. So, she just walked out. An arguement would definitely not lighten her mood.

Chilly air greeted her as she stepped outside. She took a deep breath. The cold always made the air seem cleaner, more pure. Cigarrette smoke was already taking it's place though. Every person in June's building smoked.

Melanie didn't quite understand it. Paying to kill yourself seemed pretty stupid. But maybe it was their way of controlling fate. Is it better to let old age sneak up on you one night or slowly kill yourself with poison? It seemed like a stupid question, she wondered if any of those people had ever thought about it.

The park was only a few blocks away. Bitterly cold wind made her teeth chatter. Trees in the park would offer some cover. A few people were still walking around, it seemed safe enough.

Melanie braced herself against the wind and started walking. The urge from earlier had already found its way back. Everytime she though that she killed it, it came back from the dead.

She found an empty bench to sit down on. The wind was so chilly: she wished that it would chill her to the bone. Maybe then she could feel something real. Melanie sighed. Dying really wasn't on her top ten list of things to do. Neither was freezing. She pulled her legs up to herself and curled into a ball. Sleeping on a park bench seemed like a good idea. Her mind was drifting when someone sat down beside her.

"Do you need a place to stay?" A soft man's voice asked. It was the most beautiful voice that she had ever heard.

"No... Yea... I mean, I was just tired." She stammered.

The man sitting beside her was beautiful. Melanie wasn't even sure if beautiful was a strong enough word. His hair was fairly long and so blond that it was almost golden in color. She couldn't begin to describe his eyes. The weren't any specific clor. There was something piercing about them; but not in a way that was bothersome. For a moment, she almost felt like this complete stranger could see into her soul.

Maybe the feeling should have filled her full of shame. She could remember everything that she had ever doine wrong. It was all layed out plainly before her eyes. The worst thing of all was also there...

Melanie thought that she had forgotten the first time she  had taken a blade to her skin. Something inside her had been screaming. She had to do something to silence it. Madness had seemed to envelope her.

From then on, everytime something bad happened, she had reached for the blade. It was an addiction; a horrible, ugly, awful, addiction. But it also seemed to be her only way out. Nothing else evened her out. Melanie needed balance.

Mentally she cringed in shame. Ther was no way that this beautiful and lovely mad would understand... What she did made her a freak, it was pure and simple.

But, it wasn't over. After all of the bad things flashered before her eyes, so did the good.

Memories of all the good deeds or kindnesses she had done others played beforeh er eyes. She remembered being nice to June when no one else had, cleaning up after her dad when her mom had first left and a thousand other kindnesses she had forgotten.

Tears had started running down her face; startled, she wiped them away.

"Don't cry child."

"But... what are you?"

"Does it really matter?" he said with a smile full of such warmth that her tears dried up, " I'm the crack pot that told you that you were better than this. I'm also a part of all the kindness you see."

Then he reached out and put a hand on her arm. He then pushed up her sleeve. For a second she resisted, but then stopped. All of her scars were gone. He lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes.

"Some things can't be so easily erased. But I have faith in you."

Melanie was alone on the bench. She pushed her her sleeve. No scars. Then she let out a breath, and walked home.