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The Avenging Angel
A constant noise in the back of my mind- tick, tick, tick, tick- that meanders through consciousness and establishes itself into my heartbeat, which is louder- thump, thump, thump. Confusion and unsure thoughts run rampant in my mind. Should I do this? Will the consequences be too devastating to handle?
These hallways that I slowly walk through are white and sterile, clammy yet cold, and filled with dread. Each step I make on the blank tile creates a new noise to add to the quiet throng- slap, slap, slap, slap, slap. These steps have to go through the internal- my indecisive mind- and the external- leafy green potted plants and uncomfortable blue plastic chairs- obstacles.
The rooms I pass are all unfamiliar, but the scent coming from them is the same. Pain, suffering, loss, grievances- they surround me, trying to make me succumb to them. His voice seems to shout at me from every doorway, taunting leers and drunken shouts. It is imaginary; nevertheless, a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead and shivers run down my spine.
One room still haunts me, though- the room I had been in recently, the room where my sister had wheezed her last breaths before closing her haunted eyes permanently. He wasn't there then, because he didn't care about her. I'm the only one that did. Which is why I have to break this last promise to her, no matter how much she wanted to let her killer escape justice. Looming ever closer is that room, in fact; it is not my destination today, however.
Metal doors- that's where I'm heading. To the freezing metal doors that will take me down, down to where I can escape this place and give justice to the one who deserves it. I reach them, press the down arrow, and wait. For an eternity, I'm standing there, still and silent as a stone. The shining doors, my passageway to the beginning of a hopefully better life, slide open with a ding- a new noise that repeats in my brain, a constant loop.
"What floor?" a young man asks as the doors close behind me.
"Ground," I say, looking at the floor as I murmur it, at the white tiles. The bright fluorescent lights hurt my eyes, and as I stare at the floor, I can see the man's shadow start to lean forwards towards me. Jumping, I look up, and the man's features have changed.
"What's wrong?" he leers, gentle blue eyes morphing into onyx rocks. He face seems to become that of a monster's, a living murderer. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" He comes closer, and I back up, opening my mouth to scream.
Ding. The elevator doors open, revealing the busy ground floor and my escape. Sprinting out of the miniature torture chamber, I look back for a second- the young man wears a confused look and calls after me, seeming worried.
The doors are ever closer. I sprint through, I sprint towards freedom, to the justice that I need. The milling crowd of patients, doctors, family- they seem to part, and I run through them, already worried about the time I've lost, with all of the worrying and grief. There's no time for that now. No time at all.
As soon as I open the glass doors, escape the death trap, fly free of the cage, I can breathe again. I can feel again. The sweet thirst for justice- it's going to be sated soon, as soon as possible. Blue skies reign over me, beautiful blue, something other than white. Blue, blue like… blue like the young man's eyes, before they turned onyx black.
Not thinking about this anymore, though, I notice other details. The feel of the rough gray concrete underneath my sneakers, the slap-ing of my strides toward the one place where I can finish this, finish it all- home.
First, though, I must take a side trip. The police station is my destination, but I won't be there long. Just long enough…. But… what if he is there, waiting for me, looking for me? What if they don't believe me? Are they too infected with his lies?
Wind blows through the trees- people laugh and murmur, as if there's nothing wrong in this cruel world- the sun shines upon the world, letting it bask in its warmth. And then, all of a sudden, I arrive there, at the station. Cold iron doors bar my way for only a second; I am now an unstoppable force, the avenging angel, furious over all of the world's cruel evils.
It's as if time has frozen, letting me think about what I'm going t do. I know that they have no leads, that they assume that it was a random act of destruction. Only I can prove them wrong- but that will not serve justice. It is far past for that.
Slow motion, I come to the front desk. No other people are there to see me- all the better, even if I won't be here long. They won't be able to find me, to hinder me from my mission. A piece of paper, the lead, the evidence- I pull it from my pocket and slam it down onto the desk.
"BreAnna Pierre," I whisper. "This is the key." Then I turn, and running, I leave the place. I have wasted so much time. So much. This- this must end now.
Time fast forwards to home. Grass, long and unkempt is the lawn, covered with broken glass bottles, cigarettes, and reeking of the smell of home. The smell of him. Cracked and peeling turquoise paint, rusted handles, dirty windows, the essence of fear. Hate, anger, drunken rage. I am so close to it that I can taste it, feel it boiling in my blood. This is the place.
"What are you doing here?" he leers as I walk in. "You're not supposed to be here." That fat slob, stretched out on the couch, bottle in hand.
Any indecision that had coursed through my veins is now gone. I know what has to be done. Ignoring him, I walk past, through the living room. All of the wounds- all of the pain- they seem to have returned. Bleeding cuts, aching bruises, scrapes, heartache- it's all back, reminding me again and again of what needs to be finished. BreAnna's memory would be desecrated if I allowed this to continue.
In the room, the room where it all happened, the screams and the hits, the pain and the torture, the weapon awaits. Hidden in a lockbox, just lying in wait, calling to me. The fool had left it open, after he did his evil deed. I grab it, the shining metallic thing, and check it- there is more than enough to finish this.
Click. I walk back into the living room, where he watches me, beady eyes full of hatred.
"What do you want?" his sneering fat mouth asks. He sees the weapon in my hand, and his eyes widen, those black onyx eyes, heartless, soulless eyes. "What- what are you doing with that?" He sits up, groaning. "What do you think you're doing?"
"This is your fault," I say, walking closer. "I will have no more of it."
"Put that thing down!" he thunders. "You can hurt someone! You don't know what you're doing!" Standing up, chest heaving, he stomps towards me. "Are you deaf? Put it down!"
"You should've been the first to put this thing down." I stop walking, and suddenly, it all converges on me. The noises, all of the noises.
Tick, thump, slap, ding, click, tick, thump, slap, ding, click.
"Put it down, for the love of god!" Sweat beads on his brow, and he raises his hand. "Keira!"
Tick, thump, slap, ding, click, tick, thump, slap, ding, click.
He lays on the dirty carpet blood spattering, pooling, his life essence leaving his demon body. He shall be gone, gone forever, no longer able to hurt us. BreAnna's death has been avenged, my sister's death is no longer in vain.
"Rest in peace, BreAnna," I say, spitting on my father's cooling body.
A knock on the door startles me. "This is the police, open the door!"
"The problem is gone," I call. "There's no more need to worry."
The door breaks with a shuddering crack. A man, one with a gun pointed straight at me, charges into the room. "Hands in the air! Drop the weapon!" he shouts, eyes kept on me.
Doing so, I almost laugh. "But the problem's over with! He's gone! He can't hurt us anymore!" Joy bursts into my soul, my essence. "We're safe! Me and BreAnna are safe!" But the mention of BreAnna's name reminds me. It is too late for her.
The policeman takes out handcuffs, gun still raised. Nodding to another officer, who just came in, he goes behind me, grabs my arms, and puts the handcuffs on me. "You are under arrest for the murders of both BreAnna Pierre and Charles Pierre. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"I don't understand!" I shout. "H-he killed her! It was him!"
The lead me to a cop car and throw me into the back seat. As they get inside, start the engines, they talk to each other, disjointed words, confusing words that make no sense.
"…went psycho, just grabbed a gun…."
"…after all of that, she's definitely going to the psych ward."
Tears sting in my eyes. "I didn't kill her!" I shout. "I didn't kill her; he did! He did it! He hurt both of us, and she tried to get away, and he shot her! He killed her!" The salty water runs down my cheeks, dripping onto my lap. "I didn't do it! He did!"
One of the officers shakes his head. "Crazy," he says again. "Absolutely crazy."
Keira Pierre slammed through her worn-down house, searching for her sister. "I'm back, BreAnna!" she shouted, halfway between laughing and punching the closest thing in her vincity.
BreAnna jumped from her bed, where she had been sleeping, in fear. Her sister wasn't supposed to be home for years…. How had she escaped?
Keira found BreAnna in her room, a delirious smile on her face. "I've been waiting to see you again, to tell you how much I love you, dearest sister," she spat. A lockbox was in her left hand, a knife in her right. "Did you think you could get rid of me?"
BreAnna shook her head. "It's," she gulped, trying to steady her voice, "it's so good to see you. But I thought that you were gone, that you would be in the… the hospital."
"Why? I got myself out of there, out of there for good. Even though you put me there." Dagger shot through her eyes, towards her sister. "How could you? You promised you wouldn't tell anyone."
"But, Keira, Mom! You…. You killed Mom! I had to tell, can't you see? You just killed her!" She backed away from her sister, who was coming ever closer, afraid.
"Mom," she spat again. "That b*tch. She hurt us, BreAnna! How could you excuse that? She was hurting you and me, I had to fight back!"
BreAnna shook her head, confused. "She…. She was the kindest! If there was any abuse in this house, it was because of you!"
In blind rage, Keira threw her knife at her sister. It hit its mark- BreAnna's heart. "That's what you deserve, sister," she shouted, kneeling over and unlocking the box, revealing a pistol. "As well as this."
BreAnna's face was contorted in pain. She pulled out the knife, wincing and shrieking. "We're…. We're sisters!" she screamed. "Sisters! How could you do this?"
"You are no sister of mine." She pulled out the gun and cocked it. Click. "Goodbye. And don't rest in peace."
They are all wrong. All of them. Why won't they believe me?
In this hospital, alone- stuck in this sterile white hell. How could they do this to me? How could they?
I can't prove them wrong. They're all dead set against me. I did not kill her. I didn't. I would never do that, ever. They…. They even say that I killed my mother. That my father wasn't abusive. They all lie to me, all of them. How could they? Such lies, such cruel untruths…. It sickens me.
But today, I'm escaping from here. I'm going to see BreAnna, because she can tell me what I know. She can assure me that I'm not crazy, that I'm right, and they're all wrong.
For months, I've been stuck in here, the only one certain of my truths, striven by the noises. I won't forget what I know. I'm making sure of that.
The nurse comes in, smiling. "Here are your pills, Keira," she says, handing me the customary paper cup of water and smaller cup of pills.
I nod, put the pills under my tongue, and pretend to swallow them.
The cherry lipped, blonde girl smiles at me again. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Before I can nod again, or reply, she pushes her cart away to the next patient- the next psycho.
As soon as she's gone, I spit out the pills into my hand and stare at them. Pink capsules, meant to "help" me. How would they know that I'm in need of help? They wouldn't. Not at all. Disgusted, I toss the pills under my bed, where the rest of them lay.
Stripping off the sheets of the metal, white bed, I tear them into strips. Rip, rip, rip, rip. Tying them together for a long enough rope, I fashion the final knot. The one that will take me away. Standing up on my chair, I hand the rope from a hook on the ceiling- why it's there, I do not know. Putting my head through it, I smile. Glorified and beautiful, there BreAnna is, calling to me. My sister.
Tick, thump, slap, ding, click, BOOM, rip, tick, thump, slap, ding, click, BOOM, rip, tick, thump, slap, ding, click, BOOM, rip.
Kicking the chair out of my path, I let myself hang, smiling at BreAnna. I know that she'll be able to right all of these wrongs, because she is the real angel.
Tick, thump, slap, ding, click, BOOM, rip.