Heaven Is A Place For Angels
Emenius Sleepus.
Getting ripped out of bed wasn't the best way of starting a day. When Angela found herself on the hard floor with a dark-haired man standing above her she got the sudden urge of hitting someone nearby, and in that case, Billie Joe.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she said, sounding exactly like she'd just woken up, y'know that uncontrollable voice that you get.
"Fuck you too, and we're going on a walk. Get up, and just follow me, like, now!" he said, and it could have sounded threatening, but it didn't. It just sounded like he had too little to do. She shrugged her shoulder, 'cause she really didn't have anything else to do herself, now that she was fully awake. When she had put on her slippers, she stood up, regarding his odd expression.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Uhm, that doesn't really matter right now. Just come on," he kind of answered, took her hand and pulled her toward the outer door. She didn't really fought his will, but wasn't that eager about the idea. When they got out she could notice that it was very, very, very early in the morning. She even started to wonder if it was morning yet at all. He kept dragging her down the street.
"Fuck it, Billie, tell me what time it is," she demanded, trying to stop him from walking, but it wasn't a big success. He didn't answer her, just kept going. Finally she recognized where they were; the same night-club which she now hated. A riot of panic struck inside of her head.
"Why are we here!? This isn't funny anymore! Let me go back!" she now screamed, and tried desperately to get herself free from Billie Joe's firm grip around her wrist. They passed the building, and came to the opening that led to the alley, the alley she never wanted to come near again. More panic struck her, and she swore she felt tears come down her cheeks. He suddenly stopped halfway into the alley, and turned around to face her. He looked all pale, and he had no expression in his face now. He actually looked scared, that was the right word. No words came out of his mouth. She had calmed down a bit, and waved her hand in front of his face, and finally got a reaction. He turned into his normal self, and looked kind of confused.
"Where are we?" he asked, all serious.
"Where are we? You're wondering where we are, when you were the one who dragged me here yourself? I'm fucking terrified of this place," she yelled at him, holding her arms arounf herself as protection. He still looked confused, and kept looking that way when suddenly someone grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the wall beside them. She was certain of whom she would find standing there, and she was right. There he was again, with his sick eyes, staring at her. She was sure she was going to run away, but she really couldn't, because she felt paralyzed, and all she could to was watch.
She saw when he grabbed Billie Joe by the hair, and smashed his head against the wall a few times, and then he let the man drop to the ground. She'd never seen the man she adored so pitiful ever in her life, and she could do absolutely nothing, because she knew he was going to continue the torture. Of what she could see, Billie Joe was still conscious, with a bloody cut on his forehead. The guy put some effort for a kick in Billie Joe's stomach, and another, and another. She heard Billie Joe cough after each kick, and the last time she saw blood drop from his mouth onto the stones that made the street.
Tears began to full up her eyes, making her see things more blurry. The guy wasn't finished yet, she could see that. He had one last strike. He grabbed Billie Joe's shirt and forced him to his knees, and then he put all of his strengths into a last punch, which sent Billie Joe's head into the wall one last time. She heard a large crack, and saw the man's body drop heavily to the ground, a large pile of blood starting to surround his head. She was sure of it; he was dead, and all she could do was stare.
"You thought that you were going to get away, did not you?" the guy said in crappy English, walking closer to her. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't move at all. She could swear to God she didn't feel anything when his fist reached her chin.
Waking up from hitting the hard floor while you are sleeping isn't the best way of starting a day. Angela found herself on the hard floor in the dark room, wondering how she got down there. Her heart stopped when she realized what just had happened. She reached desperately for the lamp above the bed, and gripped the cell phone which lay on the table, and pressed the first number that stood on the piece of paper that had been beside.
"Please pick up, please, please;" she mumbled while she listened to she beep’s on the other side of the end. When no one answered, she tried to grasp for air while she dialed the other phone number that was written down. She listened to she beep’s on the other end, praying that someone would pick up.
"Hello?" she heard a tired female voice say on the other end.
"Oh fuck, Adrienne. Oh my God, Billie's dead, fuck, I saw it. He was laying there with the blood around him, and I saw him do it. He must be dead, 'cause he's not answering his cell phone. We have to go to that alley and find him. We can't just let him lay there. Fuck, fuck, fuck," she rambled hysterically without thinking. All she had in her head was that picture of Billie Joe.
"Calm down, calm down. It's 4.30 in the morning and I can assure you that Billie Joe is not dead. He could be, but there's too much noise coming from him right now. He's just asleep, sweetheart. You must have had a really bad nightmare," Adrienne said with a calm voice on the other end. It took a while for Angela to take in the new information. Billie Joe wasn't dead, because he was in the same bed as Adrienne, just sleeping, and not in an alley, dead. She took a deep breath.
"Yeah," she whispered, "but I'm still scared."
"I can understand that. We mother's are used to it. Why don't you just got to Iona? You need to feel protected right now, and I think she can give you that," the older woman proposed.
"Are you positive he's not dead?" Angela asked.
"One-hundred per cent sure. You should hear him snore right now, it ain't pretty, I tell you. Bless him." Adrienne yawned into the phone and excused herself.
"Thanks. You're the best, you know that?"
"One can only try, but thank you. We might see you guys tomorrow, okay?"
"Good night."
Angela put the phone on the table beside her bed and focused on getting to her sisters room. She gazed through the corridor and went left. It was only a few meters to their room. She shrugged her shoulders, still feeling the panic, and opened the door as quietly as she could. She could see the small bed with wooden bars around them, where Emanuel was fast asleep, and she looked over at the big double-bed, where Theo was sleeping on the right side, and Iona lay on the left. She crept in on her toes as silently as possible, and bent down at Iona's side. She poked her big-sister on the arm lightly, hoping she would wake up. Luckily, Iona wasn't sleeping that hard and actually woke up. She was surprised to find her baby-sister at her side.
"Sweetie?" she asked, kind of confused, but still a little worried. "What is it?"
Angela didn't say anything, but started to cry, not really wanting to. She was too exhausted to think straight at this moment. She still had the picture in her head.
"You had a bad dream?" Angela just nodded at the question. Iona was really going to be an extremely good mother, though she already was. She removed half of her covering from the bed, inviting Angela to slip onto the white sheet next to her. Angela did so, and took a firm grip of the covering when Iona lay it over her again. She felt her big-sister's arm slip around her waist protectively.
She could safely fall asleep again.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she said, sounding exactly like she'd just woken up, y'know that uncontrollable voice that you get.
"Fuck you too, and we're going on a walk. Get up, and just follow me, like, now!" he said, and it could have sounded threatening, but it didn't. It just sounded like he had too little to do. She shrugged her shoulder, 'cause she really didn't have anything else to do herself, now that she was fully awake. When she had put on her slippers, she stood up, regarding his odd expression.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Uhm, that doesn't really matter right now. Just come on," he kind of answered, took her hand and pulled her toward the outer door. She didn't really fought his will, but wasn't that eager about the idea. When they got out she could notice that it was very, very, very early in the morning. She even started to wonder if it was morning yet at all. He kept dragging her down the street.
"Fuck it, Billie, tell me what time it is," she demanded, trying to stop him from walking, but it wasn't a big success. He didn't answer her, just kept going. Finally she recognized where they were; the same night-club which she now hated. A riot of panic struck inside of her head.
"Why are we here!? This isn't funny anymore! Let me go back!" she now screamed, and tried desperately to get herself free from Billie Joe's firm grip around her wrist. They passed the building, and came to the opening that led to the alley, the alley she never wanted to come near again. More panic struck her, and she swore she felt tears come down her cheeks. He suddenly stopped halfway into the alley, and turned around to face her. He looked all pale, and he had no expression in his face now. He actually looked scared, that was the right word. No words came out of his mouth. She had calmed down a bit, and waved her hand in front of his face, and finally got a reaction. He turned into his normal self, and looked kind of confused.
"Where are we?" he asked, all serious.
"Where are we? You're wondering where we are, when you were the one who dragged me here yourself? I'm fucking terrified of this place," she yelled at him, holding her arms arounf herself as protection. He still looked confused, and kept looking that way when suddenly someone grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the wall beside them. She was certain of whom she would find standing there, and she was right. There he was again, with his sick eyes, staring at her. She was sure she was going to run away, but she really couldn't, because she felt paralyzed, and all she could to was watch.
She saw when he grabbed Billie Joe by the hair, and smashed his head against the wall a few times, and then he let the man drop to the ground. She'd never seen the man she adored so pitiful ever in her life, and she could do absolutely nothing, because she knew he was going to continue the torture. Of what she could see, Billie Joe was still conscious, with a bloody cut on his forehead. The guy put some effort for a kick in Billie Joe's stomach, and another, and another. She heard Billie Joe cough after each kick, and the last time she saw blood drop from his mouth onto the stones that made the street.
Tears began to full up her eyes, making her see things more blurry. The guy wasn't finished yet, she could see that. He had one last strike. He grabbed Billie Joe's shirt and forced him to his knees, and then he put all of his strengths into a last punch, which sent Billie Joe's head into the wall one last time. She heard a large crack, and saw the man's body drop heavily to the ground, a large pile of blood starting to surround his head. She was sure of it; he was dead, and all she could do was stare.
"You thought that you were going to get away, did not you?" the guy said in crappy English, walking closer to her. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't move at all. She could swear to God she didn't feel anything when his fist reached her chin.
Waking up from hitting the hard floor while you are sleeping isn't the best way of starting a day. Angela found herself on the hard floor in the dark room, wondering how she got down there. Her heart stopped when she realized what just had happened. She reached desperately for the lamp above the bed, and gripped the cell phone which lay on the table, and pressed the first number that stood on the piece of paper that had been beside.
"Please pick up, please, please;" she mumbled while she listened to she beep’s on the other side of the end. When no one answered, she tried to grasp for air while she dialed the other phone number that was written down. She listened to she beep’s on the other end, praying that someone would pick up.
"Hello?" she heard a tired female voice say on the other end.
"Oh fuck, Adrienne. Oh my God, Billie's dead, fuck, I saw it. He was laying there with the blood around him, and I saw him do it. He must be dead, 'cause he's not answering his cell phone. We have to go to that alley and find him. We can't just let him lay there. Fuck, fuck, fuck," she rambled hysterically without thinking. All she had in her head was that picture of Billie Joe.
"Calm down, calm down. It's 4.30 in the morning and I can assure you that Billie Joe is not dead. He could be, but there's too much noise coming from him right now. He's just asleep, sweetheart. You must have had a really bad nightmare," Adrienne said with a calm voice on the other end. It took a while for Angela to take in the new information. Billie Joe wasn't dead, because he was in the same bed as Adrienne, just sleeping, and not in an alley, dead. She took a deep breath.
"Yeah," she whispered, "but I'm still scared."
"I can understand that. We mother's are used to it. Why don't you just got to Iona? You need to feel protected right now, and I think she can give you that," the older woman proposed.
"Are you positive he's not dead?" Angela asked.
"One-hundred per cent sure. You should hear him snore right now, it ain't pretty, I tell you. Bless him." Adrienne yawned into the phone and excused herself.
"Thanks. You're the best, you know that?"
"One can only try, but thank you. We might see you guys tomorrow, okay?"
"Good night."
Angela put the phone on the table beside her bed and focused on getting to her sisters room. She gazed through the corridor and went left. It was only a few meters to their room. She shrugged her shoulders, still feeling the panic, and opened the door as quietly as she could. She could see the small bed with wooden bars around them, where Emanuel was fast asleep, and she looked over at the big double-bed, where Theo was sleeping on the right side, and Iona lay on the left. She crept in on her toes as silently as possible, and bent down at Iona's side. She poked her big-sister on the arm lightly, hoping she would wake up. Luckily, Iona wasn't sleeping that hard and actually woke up. She was surprised to find her baby-sister at her side.
"Sweetie?" she asked, kind of confused, but still a little worried. "What is it?"
Angela didn't say anything, but started to cry, not really wanting to. She was too exhausted to think straight at this moment. She still had the picture in her head.
"You had a bad dream?" Angela just nodded at the question. Iona was really going to be an extremely good mother, though she already was. She removed half of her covering from the bed, inviting Angela to slip onto the white sheet next to her. Angela did so, and took a firm grip of the covering when Iona lay it over her again. She felt her big-sister's arm slip around her waist protectively.
She could safely fall asleep again.