Angel Alice

       Dear Ryan Birch,
       You ruined everything. You ruined my life. She's dead. You killed her. I hate you! I hope every word you speak reminds you of her! Her memory died in your hands and I won't let you forget it! I will kill you, and relish the blood on my hands as it pools from your cold, dead body. You thief, you stole her heart then her life, and put me in a world of everlasting pain and agony! There is no turning back, Ryan! There is no forgiveness. Be happy for the few weeks of life I have granted you. Two weeks, at the cemetery, you know which. We will settle this at her grave, midnight.
        ~F.A.
         I stared, empty eyed, out the window, at the pale moon.
         Pale and merciless, shedding only the bright light of everlasting darkness, no matter how bright. It was a mask, a lie, the sun was the only thing that gave the moon light. Truly the sun was more magnificent than the moon, with more glamor, beauty and truth. But the moon gave off the silver light of love. She had loved it, while she lived. She'd point it out to me, it's beauty. But everything beautiful is a lie, I thought bitterly.
          "Fara, you're killing yourself, stop Fara, please. I can die, but you have so much. Fara you're broken, you need someone like her to lean on, and I can't fix it, I'm a murderer Fara, you are too young to die, Fara..." I put my hand on the paper, whispering teared responses to Fara, to her imaginary image in front of me. Knowing I'd see her only at the day of my death. Could a child, merely twelve, kill a man? Fara could. Such anger and darkness bottled inside of her. I drove her mad, it was wrong. I haunted her, became drunk, there was an accident, Fara, I and...I couldn't even think her name...she died. The images blurred, I couldn't remember. Fara remembered, I saw it in her eyes. She knows, it was me, something happened, something—
           "Fara what do you know?! Fara what have I done?!" I slammed my fist on the oak table, standing up in my small apartment. Out of my mini fridge, I grabbed a beer, and took out a cigarette from the pack on the table. The ceiling light glowed a pale yellow. I was a monster. I looked at my reflection in the window. An unshaven chin, and purple shadows looming under my yellowed eyes. When was the last I'd slept? I couldn't remember. It was so long ago. I was thin, a nothing. It had been a couple of days, I had given up eating. What was the point of living? There was none.
           A knock came at my door, a light knock, none of force or anger, none of a man I lost a bet to perhaps, but still I was tense.
          "Who is it?" I said gruffly, putting down my beer, and pulling the cigarette from my teeth, I opened the door before they had a chance.
          "Are you Mr. Birch?" It was a woman. She was tall, and taller, with those silly heels on her feet. She, I remembered, when not an angel in heaven but one on earth, always disliked them, saying they were stupid. She always preferred no shoes at all.
           The woman was very rich looking, a purple velvet dress with one of those thousand dollar purses, probably stuffed with money. She wore no makeup, not that she needed any, her features were naturally beautiful, and if I was looking for a woman, she would do nicely. But I wasn't.
           I then noticed how low her dress was cut, length and collar. I shot her a suspicious look, she looked as if she were on an outing. But there was no man beside her. "Perhaps." I said, raising a brow.
           "I see you're a little low on cash." She said slyly.
           I was, glancing back at my man-hole, I felt slightly defensive about it.
           "So?" She surely didn't seem like someone who gave out charity money.
           "If you wanted to crawl into that bed of yours with me and have a little fun," She slid a hand down her curved hips, "I might just contribute." She drew out a twenty from her purse, smiling sickly sweet.
           I was angry that she dared come ask me to have sex with her for money, the arrogant little whore! Who did she think I was?!
           Then I thought back to my reflection, and realized I looked just lke the drunk pimp she was looking for.
           I slammed the door in her face.
           "Is that a no?" She called through the door.
           I growled in response.
           "Sexy, I like." She purred "If you ever happen to change your mind, here's my number." A number was slipped under the door, circled in a heart. As her heels clicked against the ceramic plated hallway, I glanced at the paper, threw it in the fire, and went back to my smoke.
           The phone rang.
           "What the hell." I muttered, throwing down my cigarette. Nobody wanted to let me smoke today, did they?!
            " 'lo?" I growled.
           "Hello sir. Is your refrigerator running?" A bunch of giggles came through the phone, as the girl spoke boldly.
           I already knew this stupid joke, and it wasn't funny. "Stupid kid, call someone elses house your taking time away from my smoke!" I scowled.
           A couple of whispers came through,
           "What did he say?" One asked.
           "Ohmygosh that was Mr. Birch!" Screeched another one.
           "Hang up, hang up, before he gets mad!" Said a voice of terror.
           The phone on the other side hung up with a long beeeeepppp.
           Annoyed I threw the phone back on it's hook. I was notorious for my bad mood. She never judged me. She knew how I felt. She understood. And Fara. Fara was her little follower, Fara was a sad, scared kid, with a rough life and family. She took Fara in, like a little orphan. They were cute, so inseparable. Until she died. Fara snapped. She had no one. Not a person. Her father abused her, mother left her, no friends for her because she was different. Alone. Fara.
            Out of annoyance and into depression again, I gave up the will to smoke, and drank from my beer, in hope it would relieve me. I drank, and drank, going through bottles like bird seeds, until there were barely any left.
            Instead any relief, I just fell deeper into the past, and accidentally passed out, dreaming.

          Her face smiled sadly at me. Her's. Looking at me, her almond shaped chocolate eyes, and dark curls framing her face.
          "Ryan, what has become of you?" Her pale hand and oval pink painted nails shaping around my cheek.
          "Alice." I dared utter her name, feeling a wash of fresh pain let free from my tongue.
          "Ryan you have to save Fara. She needs someone. Be that person or find another, but she is a danger to herself. She's lost her mind." Alice said, in a serious tone, pulling her hand from my cheek and placing it on my shoulder.
           "Alice, I don't know how, I killed you, Alice I need you, you were the one to steer me right." I said in a hopeless voice.
           "Ryan, you don't know the details, it wasn't all your fault. You pin it this way, Ryan, not knowing of what you speak. You can save Fara, but you have to wake up from this world you've lived in for four weeks, your own solitude."
           "But, Alice, I can't—"
           Her sad smile was back, and she faded away, as I woke from my dream, wishing my angel would come back. I loved her. And always will.
           I made up my mind to mull over what Alice had told me. Right after I got over my massive hangover.