My Savior

The moonlight shone through my window and onto my silent face. As I gazed at the breathtaking moon, I prayed, feeling the way my long fingerss folded across one-another in a sort of desperate peace. I always prayed to God. I never stopped hoping that he'd answer my prayers and send me an angel down from Heaven, and that this angellic being could take me away to Heaven -- if only, for a day. Just to let me stop feeling so anxious and afraid. I kept begging for that escape from my horrid parents and the hollow emptiness in my chest. Maybe I could be that angel, I could save myself, God is silent, I continued to assure myself. Somehow, within my own selfishness, I strongly believed it would be victory to take my own life. I was so ready to be done.

But then she came.

I peeled my hands from eachother and clutched the knife that sat on my desk. And may this act bring peace, I prayed. Amen. I raised the blood-thirsty knife to my throat. When I began to add pressure, an unexpected moan startled me, but it wasn't my moan. I dropped the knife in a instinctive panic. As I spun around, my new realization nearly made me scream.

The moonlight sone upon an angel. I had always pictured angels with an eternal smile. But she moaned and sobbed, her hands clutching her stomach. She didn't look at me; the angel only stared at her frantic hands that dripped gobs of blood. In her grasp was her stomach -- literally. I watched her ivory wings' glow slowly fade as blood spued and spued; finally she collapsed to my bedroom floor. I couldn't seem to make myself move unitl she did, unconcious, eyes wide open. I fell to my knees in panic, words of comfort spilling hurridly from my lips in hopes to not only aid her but aid myself. Each pound of my heart seemed to crawl higher up my throat. My heart fell to my toes when I at once recognized the beautiful face.

It was Crimson.

Instantly I began to shout for help, and I found myself shouting at even Crimson. "Stay with me sweetheart, stay with me! Hey, don't leave me. Stay here!" Unresponsive. I shouted it again, louder. By the time I, myself was sobbing, I'd already scooped her into my arms.

I ran. I ran with all my might, her in my protective grasp. I ran all the way to the hospital for them to only push us out the door, telling me to fix my own problems myself. Feeling hopeless, I ran to the church and lay Crimson down before the alter. My hands pressed together, and a sob of prayer managed from my already overwhelmed lungs. A voice boomed back at me: "How dare thou think to take place of thy guardian angel? Does not thou understand ye purpose?!"

My sobs became harsher, assuming the voice as the Lord. My lips whispered an eternal apology. It only made me want to die more. "Ye took thy pain, a monstrous debt!"

I grasped Crimson's cold hand. There was nothing I wanted more than to make it all go away. "I promise you, Crimson, I promise you -- I won't ever do it again. I -- oh, please wake up!" She faded away in a shining glow, with the furious voice right behind her.

* * *

My eyes snapped open, cold sweat dripping down my temples. I punched my matress, and shoved my face deeper into my pillow. FOUR A.M. I tossed and turn. Frustrated, I got out of bed and took a long shower, letting every droplet soothe and ease away the uneasy feeling in my stomach. By the time I had both gotten out of the shower and fixed myself up as nice as possible (a first), it was time to head out the door for school. A pact, I thought. Of change.

I got there early. "Here you go," said the lunch lady. "Breakfast, dear."

"Free?" I asked, astonished. She nodded. "Come here early more often!"

I felt great, my hair all silky and clean, my nicest pair of jeans with a button-up plaid shirt, my "man-sandles", and a single woven bracelette on my left wrist. I wore a smile on my pale lips, too. I scampered into the gym with pride, where kids awaiting the bell would sit and relax for a while. Discreetly, I looked myself over once more; nothing appeared wrong. . . so why were people staring? I looked down again. No, good, I'm wearing my boxers UNDER my pants. . .

I settled in the corner of the gym, and played pacman on my phone for a while. Later, I was greeted with a surprised smile. I looked up at Crimson who stared in a bit of awe. "I didn't expect you to be here, but --" She cut off, catching up to the point. "Wow, kiddo! You look great!"

"Chance," I blushed. She ignored it.

"And you look so -- glowing today, too!"

I winced, trying not to picture my dream. "So do you, angel." I shook my head quickly. Her eyebrows raised. "I -- I mean Crimson," I mumbled. Ugh, God I sound like a geek. Crimson sat down, shrugging it off easily. She grinned, enjoying my flushed cheeks, and pulled out a guitar from her case. I pointed, with my 'what the hell' face showing. "Where did that even come from? I didn't even notice that in your hand. . ." She only laughed at me. The guitar was beautifully polished and obviously treated like her baby. She peered at my shyly and then glanced at her fingers to check if they were in the right place.

"A song," she mumbled nervously. Once she began to strum, she looked merely fearless. The chord was peaceful. Heads turned in our direction in delight. People must have known her for her talent, because when her voice poured out, others inched closer to hear.

"I like you, and girl you don't got nothing to prove to me, I know that times have been rough for both of us, but I'll pray for a change. . . You see this world has lots to offer and in time it will go dark, but if this love is what we say it is, I'm sure we will go far. And with a girl as sweet as you, there's not much I can do, but fall for you. . ."

I stared, awstruck. She faded off, noticing that the bell was soon to ring. She said nothing as she put her precious guitar away, but suddenly she looked at me and swung the case over her shoulder.

"Christofer Ingle is a good song writer, eh?"

I looked at her, confused. "You didn't write that?"

"OF COURSE NOT, silly goose!"

I eyed her silently for a moment. "You don't even write your own songs?"

"I do, but just for people I'm like super close to."

A pinch of hurt collapsed in my stomach, but I forced myself to nod understandingly. I already felt so attatched. We all stood up and exited the gym, while my mind drifted back to the poem I wrote about Crimson. I felt a little jealous too, that I couldn't play guitar. I had always wanted to play the bass in a band -- to become a somebody. It was a bit disappointing to later discover that dreams die.

I waved farewell to Crimson, but she didn't wave back. I sighed, and turned to open my locker. Her arms wrapped around my waist though, and it was after she hugged me for at least three seconds that I could process Crimson's presence. I froze, my shoulders holding my arms up tensly. She held grasp for a moment and then let go. "See ya, Chance," she murmured. She dropped her gaze from mine and rushed away awkwardly.