Fallen Angel

Fallen Angel

The rain washed streets of the Capitol experienced an odd respite in the torrential downpour that had bombarded the city. Londoners had poured back onto the walkways, with only the light fog and the occasional shiver to remind them that this was indeed spring time in Britain. Big Ben grinned jovially as it sounded several lazy chimes. It was nine in the morning and upon realising, the people of West Minister speedily hurried about their business.
Strolling across the bridge under Ben’s watchful gaze was what appeared to be an angel, if one was to judge. Inhumanly tall with ashen skin and hair purest of white that brushed his shoulders, an angel in a business suit many would say, if they couldn’t sense the ice cold cruelty rolling off him in waves. Eyes the colour of cold steel and his face fixed into his trademark scowl, needless to say Gideon Josias parted the thickest of crowds without trying. But impossible it is, to understand this man. Once a boy, this angel suffered a childhood of torment, taught by his wicked foster father to chain away weak emotions, beaten and moulded into his image. This angel, cruel as sin carries with him great sorrow and loneliness – not that Gideon Josias would ever admit it.
Gideon marched with the air of arrogance. Eyeing a semi-conscious beggar on the path upon passing, Gideon’s handsome scowl morphed into a terrible sneer. Pathetic, he thought. I could quite happily kick that trash up and down London, if I wouldn’t get my shoes filthy.
Turning into a side street, his shoes clicking on the cobblestones, he now stood before the cosy looking Papagni’s Café. Gideon hurried inside, greeted by a sickly sweet odour, the tinkle of the bell and –
“You’re late,” rang out a smooth voice. “But you already knew that.”
Rachel-Emily Josias, divinely youthful like her father, with raven hair that fell in delicate bangs across her forehead, silky rivers flowing down her back. Bright emerald eyes inherited from her late mother. Rachel’s presence was equal to her father’s, but it was not a torrent of ice and cruelty but an inferno of fire, passion and domination. It was almost as if it caressed all who were near. This helped Rachel gain the respect her father demands through fear.
“What of it?” The angel’s face twisted into a sneer, his voice musical in scorn.
“I’ve been waiting, in this dingy Café, for the past forty minutes father,” his daughter challenged. Green and steel clashed. The air itself crackled with anticipation.
She was so much like his beloved Helen, Gideon had to look away. “I can not stay long Rachel-”
“Very well father, we will keep this brief,” Rachel cut across with a smirk from her seat.
Now sitting across from his daughter, Gideon looked almost uncomfortable. “Won’t you order then?”
“No, I filled up on the pity bread while I was waiting for you.” Rachel replied coolly.
“It was not my intention to be late, I was busy and you know this,” snapped Gideon, losing his façade ever so slightly.
“No father, I do not know this. You are never late, even when I was a child, why now?” Her green eyes would have pierced into Gideon’s soul but he had masked it well.
“Not all of us have the luxury to gallivant around teashops,” he snapped once more, glaring at the table cloth. “The business meet is next week, it is not easy to run such a conglomerate with such competition.”
“Be that as it may…Why do you not look at me father?” She questioned suddenly but even after this, her father would not lift his gaze to satisfy her. Her ruby lips parted in understanding, a flash of hurt crossed her face.
After what seemed an eternity of silence, Gideon lifted his stare to his daughter’s face. Oh how it burned him to look at her, after everything he had ever lost, to be reminded in his waking life as well as in sleep, it was torture to him.
“Rachel-Emily Josias, you are…” Gideon hesitated, he could not find words to comfort Rachel, strong she may be but Gideon knew that his Rachel was slipping away.
It had started since birth actually, the distancing. Gideon’s twin sister was named Emily, you see. His beloved Helen thought it appropriate to allow Emily to live on through Rachel. Gideon’s titanic pride however haunted him. He would never tell a soul of his nightmares. Remembering his sister’s eyes bulge, her arms thrashing, trying to escape the crumpled car which had careened into a river. Gideon’s entire family had died that day thanks to the drunken antics of one truck driver. Just saying his daughter’s name was agony.
And now, almost two years ago Helen, the only person he had ever loved had perished from cancer, his light had vanished. A gaping wound had been left and that is all that remained. So much like Helen, Rachel looked.
“What was she like?” Rachel’s voice sounded distant, “what did Emily look like?” Rachel held an expression of understanding, and… pity!
“The most beautiful creature that ever graced this world,” Gideon said automatically. As if snapping from a trance, disgusted by his weak behaviour Gideon bolted upwards, surprised, Rachel followed.
“What are you doing?” Rachel demanded, transformed back into her confident self, “we have yet to finish.”
“We are done here daughter, do not mistake me for an open book.” He spat nastily. The angel’s face twisted into a mocking smile. “I am going on a business trip after the meet; I will not be back for several months.”
“Am I so disgusting you can not be anywhere near me?!” Rachel raged. Blinded by her hurt and pride, so tired she was of being discarded, she struck at her father.
Slowly licking the blood from his lips, Gideon firmly grabbed his daughter’s arm. “Do not play with fire little girl, you will get burned.” He spat, throwing her arm back as if burned. “I can not look at you! It’s sickening! Being reminded of everything I have lost! Being reminded of the only poor souls to ever love me! ” He shouted. He leaned in close to her face, frozen in hurt. He whispered with immeasurable malice “and I hate you for it. I neither want you, nor your pity daughter.” He spat the last word with so much revulsion, Rachel crumpled into her seat, mortally wounded. With that Gideon swiftly turned, banged open the door and stomped into the heavy rain without a backward glance.
Slouching down, defeated. Every hateful word like a stab in the gut, a wound to her soul. The once proud woman whispered to herself ever so quietly “I love you father,” wiping away a stray tear. “I did love you father.”