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Angel of sin
I hate Mondays!
Wraiths pov
Monday morning. The hardest day of the week. I sigh as I step of the shower. My medium length green hair falling in front of my piercing red eyes. I shake it out. Specks of water flying around me. There now, I can see. I chuckle to myself and put away my black wings. Hiding them from humans who know nothing of the so called "fictional creatures". Although a select few know we exist. We meaning other "species". But normally only slayers know of us.
Not sure what slayers are? Allow me to explain their disgusting existence. Slayers are an organization or freelance humans that seek to destroy anything non-human. Their main targets include demons, vampyres, dark angels and wolves. They find us the most threatening.
Well now that I have exposed myself as a non-human, I should probably tell a bit about myself. Hello, my name is Wraith and I am a dark angel working as an ordinary school teacher. I work around all different species. Even a few that dislike my kind. Yes it is an uncomfortable situation, but I rather enjoy my job. But I don't fear being attacked. You remember when I spoke of being a dark angel, I am sure. Well I am a no ordinary dark angel. I am an angel of sin. Wrath to be exact.
Have you ever heard of the seven deadly sins? If not let me explain. There is gluttony, lust, greed, pride, envy, sloth and the worst of all, wrath. For each sin a dark angel was made. I was chosen for wrath. I seek out people whom have committed terribly crimes, such as murder or torture. I then show them the error of their ways. After they have suffered the cruelest way of torture, they become demons.
Want to know how I torture them? Hmm...now that is a good question. I myself allow them to relive the awful things they've done, but in the victims shoes. If they have killed, they relive the death of their victim or victims. The pain they felt, the sadness of their families, as well as theirs. They relive the darkness of death. Until the day I believe they have suffered enough torment and pain.
Enough of my constant rambling. I need to get to school. I have students to teach. I slip on a black shirt and hide it under my black jacket. Then I pull on a pair of black jeans. I then grab my keys off the hook next to the door and hop in my black Chevy Malibu. As soon as the car starts I hit play on the cd player and smile slight hearing the alarms from the beginning of indestructible by Disturbed. In all my years of being on this wretched planet, music really has been a sanity saver.
I sigh and growl under my breath as I pull into the parking lot of the school. Your probably wondering why I hate Mondays huh? Eh...You'll soon find that out. I walk into the school building ans into classroom 114. History, World history and Government. Curious why I chose those classes to teach. I am over a thousand years of age and have seen many of things in the past. It was the best choice for me, since I have experienced a lot.
I sigh and shake my head as the first bell rings. Students flood into into the room in their clicks and social groups. In all my years of being alive, this is the stupidest thing I have ever seen. People picking on others because of the way they dress? Ugh. I guess i'm what they would consider Gothic. But does it really matter that I prefer black? No.
I shiver as one particular boy walks into the classroom. The boy is hidden between a blackette female, with pale white skin and emerald green eyes. Her long black hair down to her mid back. She is on his left. To his right is a tall male with hair the color of silver and eyes the color of amethyst. A brotherly vibe radiating off of him and the same beautiful, pale white skin as the black haired female.
The boy hidden between the two, is my addiction, my drug. His hair, medium length and midnight black, his eyes that I get lost in and take my breath from my lungs, are a piercing gray, almost black. His long slender fingers move up and brush his bangs out of his eyes. I dig my nails into my leg and bite my bottom lip, as his scent wafts towards me, making my breath catch in the back of my throat.
This is why I HATE Mondays.
Over the weekend I am able to breathe and recover from the haze he puts me in. Then Monday resumes and i'm lost in a sweet abyss. Just barely able to fight the temptations he kills me with. You could basically say. on Mondays, I am dying...Again.
Monday morning. The hardest day of the week. I sigh as I step of the shower. My medium length green hair falling in front of my piercing red eyes. I shake it out. Specks of water flying around me. There now, I can see. I chuckle to myself and put away my black wings. Hiding them from humans who know nothing of the so called "fictional creatures". Although a select few know we exist. We meaning other "species". But normally only slayers know of us.
Not sure what slayers are? Allow me to explain their disgusting existence. Slayers are an organization or freelance humans that seek to destroy anything non-human. Their main targets include demons, vampyres, dark angels and wolves. They find us the most threatening.
Well now that I have exposed myself as a non-human, I should probably tell a bit about myself. Hello, my name is Wraith and I am a dark angel working as an ordinary school teacher. I work around all different species. Even a few that dislike my kind. Yes it is an uncomfortable situation, but I rather enjoy my job. But I don't fear being attacked. You remember when I spoke of being a dark angel, I am sure. Well I am a no ordinary dark angel. I am an angel of sin. Wrath to be exact.
Have you ever heard of the seven deadly sins? If not let me explain. There is gluttony, lust, greed, pride, envy, sloth and the worst of all, wrath. For each sin a dark angel was made. I was chosen for wrath. I seek out people whom have committed terribly crimes, such as murder or torture. I then show them the error of their ways. After they have suffered the cruelest way of torture, they become demons.
Want to know how I torture them? Hmm...now that is a good question. I myself allow them to relive the awful things they've done, but in the victims shoes. If they have killed, they relive the death of their victim or victims. The pain they felt, the sadness of their families, as well as theirs. They relive the darkness of death. Until the day I believe they have suffered enough torment and pain.
Enough of my constant rambling. I need to get to school. I have students to teach. I slip on a black shirt and hide it under my black jacket. Then I pull on a pair of black jeans. I then grab my keys off the hook next to the door and hop in my black Chevy Malibu. As soon as the car starts I hit play on the cd player and smile slight hearing the alarms from the beginning of indestructible by Disturbed. In all my years of being on this wretched planet, music really has been a sanity saver.
I sigh and growl under my breath as I pull into the parking lot of the school. Your probably wondering why I hate Mondays huh? Eh...You'll soon find that out. I walk into the school building ans into classroom 114. History, World history and Government. Curious why I chose those classes to teach. I am over a thousand years of age and have seen many of things in the past. It was the best choice for me, since I have experienced a lot.
I sigh and shake my head as the first bell rings. Students flood into into the room in their clicks and social groups. In all my years of being alive, this is the stupidest thing I have ever seen. People picking on others because of the way they dress? Ugh. I guess i'm what they would consider Gothic. But does it really matter that I prefer black? No.
I shiver as one particular boy walks into the classroom. The boy is hidden between a blackette female, with pale white skin and emerald green eyes. Her long black hair down to her mid back. She is on his left. To his right is a tall male with hair the color of silver and eyes the color of amethyst. A brotherly vibe radiating off of him and the same beautiful, pale white skin as the black haired female.
The boy hidden between the two, is my addiction, my drug. His hair, medium length and midnight black, his eyes that I get lost in and take my breath from my lungs, are a piercing gray, almost black. His long slender fingers move up and brush his bangs out of his eyes. I dig my nails into my leg and bite my bottom lip, as his scent wafts towards me, making my breath catch in the back of my throat.
This is why I HATE Mondays.
Over the weekend I am able to breathe and recover from the haze he puts me in. Then Monday resumes and i'm lost in a sweet abyss. Just barely able to fight the temptations he kills me with. You could basically say. on Mondays, I am dying...Again.
