FicWad

11. Live and Breathe and Die Alone

I told him to go love someone else. I must be insane. They said I hit my head; maybe that was it. But it was for the better, right? He could go and live his life, knowing that he had a Guardian Angel; there was no requirement to knowing who they are. I told him to love someone else. And I knew exactly who he’d go to. Olivia. I sighed. I didn’t even know what she looked like, probably never said two words to her, and I hated her. I hated her for being human, for knowing her future was secure. I hated her for not getting picked on everyday. I hated her for breaking Gerard’s heart. But most of all, I hated her for loving him. I felt shallow and worthless for hating a girl I really didn’t know. I hated myself more for letting him go. Why did I ignore him?
How many times had he said he loved me in the past hour? How long had he been waiting for me? Why didn’t he let me die? This would be so much easier if I were dead. I almost died too, I could feel it. Using my good hand, I propped myself up. There was a mirror on the other side of my bed, catching my reflection. Was that what I looked like, was that really my face? I saw bags under my eyes. Knots in my hair, which was now stringy and limp. I looked paler.
Fuck this, I thought. I’m an angel; I don’t need twenty machines keeping me alive. I pulled the tubes out of my nose and disconnected the heart rate monitor. I wobbled a little when I stood up, blood rushing to my head. I took a step to see if I could manage standing. I could.
The floor of the ward was uncontaminated and icy. Wandering around the hospital at three in the morning made me feel out of place. I’d never really been to a doctor; we usually were in perfect health. The last time I was at a hospital was for Gerard. Why did I invest so much time in him? Did I really think it would last? I passed a man in green pushing a still-born baby in a cart. Gerard would grow up and have children. Would I ever even get married? Did I want to die alone? I met an elevator and pushed the up button. Maybe he’d marry Olivia. They’d have cute kids. I shook my head. Forget him, remember? Once I get over this, I could find someone else. An angel, at least.
Maybe not.
It wouldn’t be that bad to die alone.
Would it?
The doors opened and I shuffled inside. I hit the button for highest floor available and the box lurched upwards.
Would he take me back?
No, I thought. He has his life; you don’t need to interfere anymore. The elevator stopped and an elderly woman got on. We continued upwards. I didn’t like this; it was too personal. I tugged nervously at my gown, then at my bandages.
“Ooh, honey, what happened to you?” The woman asked. She seemed innocent enough. She was maybe 2/3 my height, weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, and looked like the kind of person that lived alone. And she had this sweet, tiny voice.
“Oh, um…I fell.” She nodded
“Off my bike yeah.”
“Well, you should be more careful next time, dear. Oh here it is.” The doors opened and the woman hobbled away. My eyes caught her wristband: Terminal. Oh Jesus…
Was I really that stupid? I was sixteen. Why was I killing myself over a boy, of all things? A human, no less. Now I was sounding like my mother. Ivy hated humans…even though she married one. The elevator touched the highest floor. I wandered the ward looking for a staircase. I looked in windows; I couldn’t tell if these people were comatose or asleep. I pushed through a door looking for stairs and saw two beds, occupied. Their faces and bodies were covered with sheets stained with blood. There were no tubes or cords coming out of them. The monitors: flat line. Was this floor the morgue? I pulled back a sheet on what turned out to be a woman, maybe thirty years of age. Her face was mutilated with scars and gouges. There was a thinner sheet underneath the entire cover, a damp, red spot over her heart. I put the cover back over her face. I turned toward what I knew was a man. If I knew he was dead, why did I keep looking? Pulling the sheet back, his death was neater. Just a bullet wound to the forehead. The doctor had left his notes on the body. I skimmed, catching bits like, “having older organs than appearance showed,” or “died only after suffering extensive damage; untypical” I put the notes back and went towards the woman again. I checked around her face, and I found it behind her ear: the mark. The mark that Victoria had on her ankle, the mark that was on my wrist. My wrist! I had no idea I had cut clear through the little cross that told anyone who knew that you were an angel. More experienced angels (Victoria, Ivy) can tell you’re an angel by looking at you.
I was scared now. Normal angels didn’t die in car accidents or by bullet wounds. I looked in a tub nearby for the evidence. All they could find was a bullet from the man’s scull. They cleaned it off real well, but what was engraved in it was more disturbing than the blood and muscle tissue remnants that were left in the bucket: angelus vadum pereo. The angels will die. I almost fell over. This was obviously a Deamon that killed the angels. I pocketed it, and got the hell out of there.
I finally found a staircase that led to the roof of the building. The sun was rising and cast an orange glow over the small piles of snow gathered in the corners on the roof. I avoided broken glass and glowing cigarette butts, I was barefoot. I put my toes at the edge, letting them hang off just a little. Most would find the height dizzying, I found it comforting. I was trained well enough; I could land without getting hurt if I jumped. Half of me wanted to. The other half (the more logical half) said I already was going to need therapy for attempting suicide, jumping off buildings wouldn’t get me in a better position. Everyone was asleep or behind a desk, no one would see you. There were only two cars in the employee lot, one in the visitor. You could see everything from up here. The high school towered above the suburban homes. Maybe I should jump off the school too. Maybe try flying for once.
But now I just wanted to fall.
Before I jumped, I kept thinking. Gerard couldn’t do this if he tried. That cheered me up a bit. Neither could Olivia, she can’t even ride rollercoasters. Ray probably wouldn’t get on top of the building, poor kid was terrified. Victoria would jump, no questions asked. I was laughing now, maybe just the littlest bit, happy to be alive. That disappeared, regretting yelling at Gerard for saving me. I owed him my life. I brushed away the thought of owing Gerard anything. How many times had I saved his life now? I felt jittery looking down now. What if I missed? What if I actually died for once? Looking at the snow covered pavement below and almost reconsidered. After all, this looked exactly like one of the things I would yell at Gerard for attempting. But thinking of him again just made me want to jump ten times more. I shivered a little, wishing I brought a jacket of sorts. I sensed movement behind me. I bent over, inconspicuously picking up a piece of glass. I waited for the movement again, before jumping and hurling the broken glass as fast as possible.
There was nothing there. The glass skittered across the cement until it reached the other side of the building. Damn.
Now if I could only do that in gym class and not when my safety was at stake…
I almost forgot I shouldn’t be up here. I searched for thoughts using my mind, but all I could hear was the young mother silently mourning the loss of her newborn child.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I looked back at my toes, wiggled them a little, and took a step forward off the building.