Believe you me, you can learn alot in six years. Especially when you have your very own Guardian Angel. Ya, hard to believe. I know. If I hadn't have been so young six years ago, I would've thought Michael was a hallucination that my brain cooked up(still not completely convinced this is real, though). Now, where to start about Guardian Angels? I know.
Let's start with the past. According to Michael, when you die, you have two choices. Either a) you go on to Paradise, or b) stay on Earth as a Guardian Angel and help those in need(phew, no firery pits!). Michael, being the kind-hearted soul he is, (kind-hearted soul...hehehe...get it?) chose to become a Guardian Angel. My Guardian Angel.
Since I was Michael's first Guardian Child, we learned as we went. For instance, only I can see Michael. Which makes it pretty hard not to burst out laughing in class when he's making faces at my teacher. Michael, to only me, is solid. That basically means he can touch me, but if tries to touch other people(such as trying to slap my teachers) he goes right through them. Another downside is that he can't touch objects unless I'm touching them.As an example, I was doodling in the back of the classroom, and the teacher snapped at me. Michael took the pencil from my hand and threw it at the teacher. Which made it look like I threw it. Thanks, Michael.
There are some more ups, though. Like how Michael and I can cummunicate by sending each other thoughts. Although, I guess there is a down part to that too. How would you like someone in your head reading your thoughts, 24/7? The other up only applies to Michael. Rememeber six years ago when I said he didn't have wings? Well, he doesn't have wings visibly, but he can soar, zoom, hover, basically move through the air off the ground. Too bad we don't share that ability.....
Well....I guess I've come to the part where I have to tell you what happened after that night, six years ago. The cops sent a rescue team to bring Mom back up. She was cut in several places, too bad to be repaired for a funeral. So there never was one. We had Mom cremated and put in a vase.It's white, with a pink flower pattern. That vas was now on the top shelf in my father's room.
Father. My father. You couldn't even call him that now. After Mom's death, ya, he still went to his two jobs. But he came home drunk. Every night he came back with a twelve-pack and a one-night stand.Some life. If it wasn't for MIchael, I would've become a turtle. Hidden away in my shell(and very slow, for that matter).
Ya, life pretty much sucked. My dad was a drunk who brought whores home, and I was left to fend for myself. But then one night, it went too far.