Angel bolted up straight in his bed, panting heavily and trying to get his breathing under control again. He looked around alarmed, not yet realizing he was out of his horrific dream and back into the real world, back to where things made a lot more sense than the place he was just in. After a couple of hefty breaths, Angel finally calmed down after see everything was place and nothing out of the ordinary was in his room. He slouched down and kept looking around in a daze. The second time this night he’s had that dream, the same frightful images scrambling through his head. When he was little, when he had a nightmare he would just run to his parents’ bedroom and sleep with them so he could feel a bit of safety and protection. But he couldn’t do that now; he couldn’t do it even if he really wanted to. It’s not something you would expect a 16-year-old boy to be doing. If a teenage boy did do that, the parents may not hesitate to call a psychiatrist and get him some unneeded professional help. Angel didn’t need that, or at least he didn’t think he needed it. All he needed was his mind to stop playing tricks on him and stop making him see things that couldn’t possible be real. There’s no such things as demons and monsters, and as much as him mom makes him go to church, he just can’t believe that there’s things like angels or guardian spirits. If you went to high school surrounded by kids that basically suck the sacred things out of life, you wouldn’t believe in angels too.
“DC! You better get the hell up right now or I’ll come in a beat that sorry ass of yours!” His dad was already threatening him and it’s so early in the morning.
“I’m up!” he yelled back, taking the last bit of strength he had in waking up to let his father know that he wasn’t going to cause any trouble. He slowly got himself up and ready for yet another dreary day at Radford High, the most degrading high school on the east side of California. He got his clothes on, probably as slowly as he could go, not caring if he missed the bus or not. He hated riding the bus, but his father makes him anyway so he could get to school on time. It wouldn’t matter if he walked or went on the bus; he was at the same place in the end. He liked to walk anyway. The twisted roads that lead to his school from his house were very intricate, yet in his mind, one of the most amazing things that the little city had to offer. Walking through them, they practically make anyone feel like they’re in some story or fairytale. The roads surrounded by variations of trees and brushes, and every turn took, took you to another one and another to where you feel completely lost, yet for some inexplicably reason your mind and body are still at peace. Hardly anybody walked nowadays; they all have cars or buses and just whiz right on through the streets, not taking notice of anything. But when Angel does walk, he feels like he is in a completely different world. No one else is walking through the streets so he feels utterly alone, and because of that he can be anyone he wants to be when walking down the twisted roads. And that’s why he purposely goes slowly, so he can purposely miss the bus so for just ten minutes he can feel a bit human.
Even though it took him forever to get dress and to get his bag ready, he was out the door in seconds, not even getting something to eat. He didn’t want to deal with his father or any part of his family. It’s not that he hated them; he just knew he didn’t belong with them. He was the black sheep, and he wanted to keep in that way.
Just as he suspect, the bus passed by without even stopping for him. A small grin crept over his face, and he started to walk. It was in the middle of fall, his favorite season cause he just loved the colors. They were so different from the rest of the year; it set itself apart like a sunflower, God's own beautiful mistake. He could hear the fading noise of the bus as it rolled away until it was completely silent and all he could hear was the multicolor leaves crumbles underneath his worn out shoes. The wind whispered through the different leaves and bushes and the sun barely peaked through the top of the trees creating a sense of unhindered glow. He couldn’t help it, in a sense of just a gut feeling; Angel stopped in his tracks. He didn’t want to leave; he couldn’t leave. The thought of school had completely left his mind and was no longer a problem at all. He looked up and just pondered the way the world looked through his eyes and how other people might see what he saw, if they would see it in a different way or not. For the first time in a long time, not a single troubling thought clouded his young mind. But the feeling ended quickly.
Something wasn’t right, the trees appeared different and the colors seemed to dim away. He spun around to see if anyone was there but the roads were empty for miles, he was the only one. He could feel it begin to go cold, and not cold like of a breeze that suddenly passes through the trees. This is a cold that wouldn’t go away and crept into the bones until even the thought of happiness had only become a fleeting memory. He looked around the vacant roads again to make for certain he was alone, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. A dark mist began to form in the direction of where the school was and it was coming swiftly up the asphalt.
This can’t be happening, this is not real. He closed his eyes tightly and thought over and over again. My mind is playing a trick. This is not real. It can’t be real.
Even though his eyes seemed to be wired shut, he could practically feel the presence of this unknown creature circling around his body, testing him. Angel could hear it breathe into his ears, whispering nonsense in a language he could not decipher. The creature tightened its mist around the boy’s body, tightening it to a fatal grip.
“Oh god,” the words seeped from his mouth.
He thought that it wasn’t real, he kept on thinking it, but no matter what his mind told him, his body was saying something different and it was screaming it. Blood started to trickle onto his tongue and he licked it away, fully believing that it was just his wild imagination that all his life people told him he had. That it was because of his childish thoughts that he could see things that shouldn’t be real. That’s what people have always told him. But where are they now, where are the teachers and counselors to tell him it is all in his head and that what he thinks is real is not?
As time went on and pain started to ricochet throughout his body, he realized that it was real. His mind wouldn’t cause this much pain unless he wanted it to, and he certainly didn’t want it to. He started to choke, either on his own blood or the clutch of the monster around his neck; he didn’t know and didn’t care. All he wanted was the pain to seize and everything to stop. With a final breath, he opened his eyes and could see the thing killing him. It was a thing without a face, without a soul. His vision was going black again, but not because he was closing his eyes. They were wide open now, but still the darkness was slowly creeping in and what seemed like curtains closing at the end of some grand show, everything turned to an inevitable blackness.
