FicWad

[Lily's point of view]

"You could tell me anything. I won't judge. Best friends forever."

There I was, sitting forlornly back in the place I remember being raised. These hands of mine seemed to only know how to feel and feel they did. Up and across the slight imperfections in the chipped sky blue paint. Skylights beaming stars through an iridescent hole thus paving the floorboards, these things brought back memories. Even where I had carved the days since Azy left me was visible. A frown peeled across my skin and was reflected through the window panes. I was too tired for this 'cause all I needed was a solid break. My hands resurfaced at the back of my head and dipped into two holes.

I thrusted them back out to get a better look at what had just happened. Although I am partially dead, I still bleed. I bleed the blood of a thousand crying angels that sacrifice themselves for what is right. But why are there holes in the back of my head? Slowly a headache was forming at the thought of remembrance. And sadly, I still wanted to know which pushed the headache closer to the front of my skull, throbbing and pounding with each passing thought. For some reason, I was fed a piece of my past.

"I'm terribly sorry Lily dearest. We'll cross paths some other day but now is not the time." a Saint spoke to me. Her billowy snow white hair was soft on my eyes while silky feathers spewed from her back. Not just a Saint, but an angel. Angels from the unknown ... Strapped to her back was a ... guitar? But the strings were frayed and broken. That immediately caught my eyesight and I focused in for better looks. Scars adorned the pick guard while red ribbons held the celestial instrument together.

"Who do I stay with?" my childish voice echoed. The Saint brought me up to the stoop of a large apartment complex. "You're fit to live with only angels. Other people wouldn't understand your plight. Learn to love thy newfound friends," I took each word to heart. But days turned to weeks and I was quickly fed up with these angelic guardians. Didn't they realize I was dying inside when they could not satisfy me with affection? I starved for simple pets and praises but none were offered. Not once had suicide passed through my mind, I was only about nine but my age didn't reflect my maturity.

My tenth birthday, the apartment was strangely desolate to my eager ears. Not a cake was displayed on a kitchen counter nor a single present wrapped for my enjoyment. Where were my saviors, my "adopted parents", my angels? Pieces of plastic etched scratches in the soles of my feet while I padded around looking for a sign of life. Instead I came across a note the size of a regular business card. "We've been reassigned to a new child. Good luck with your life." That's all it said. That's all they left me with.

Saline smoothed down my fretful pastel cheeks so all I could do was hide my head between my knees. I couldn't stay here but I could not leave this dead space with any amount of energy. Lacerations, mutilation, why was my mind thinking such awful things? I'm dead, I'll deal with it. So why can't I get close?! Why can't I love and smile like the rest of the norm? No one ever said life was fair but no one ever said it was going to be so difficult. My road is paved with failures and slaughter.

"Hey. It was raining a minute ago but when I stepped onto the stoop it kinda stopped. Just thought you should know," a head poked its way into my shallow home. Footsteps proceeded to come ever closer and a smile crept along my mask. "You doing all right?" he prodded me slowly.

"Nothing is 'all right'. It won't be all right despite what you all say. Leave me alone," I coldly sputtered. Finally my eyes matched his and we completed a staring contest, me being the winner. "Why should I leave? This is an empty decayed building. It's just as much mine as yours," he was a foolish boy.

"It's not yours. Not a piece of it. See those tallies by the staircase? All those tallies I sketched into the molding. She'd been gone for two whole fucking years and my sorrow and hatred is still fucking real, even after death." That seemed to take him back a little but he decided to come and sit next to me, maybe a little too closely. "I don't see why you've got to be so un-accepting of everyone. Surely you have friends, right?" the doubt wavering in his voice made me stifle my laughter.

"Dead. She's dead. Right under my nose, she killed herself."

"Azy?" I pounded on her door for the third time. I told her I was coming over so we could plan my seventeenth birthday party, so why wasn't she answering? All the blinds were closed so there was no way to peer inside. "Azy I'm just going to come on in!" I warned her in case she really didn't know I was there. Click. The lock mechanism chafed against the cogs underlying the wood. As if this was some horror movie, things slowed down while the door creaked open.

An effigy dangled from a rope that hovered over a tossed chair. This doll seemed so realistic and so similar to Azy herself, or was this just my brain trying to think of possible solutions besides the obvious one which was that this was no doll, it was Azy? "No. No ... No!" denial was always the toughest stage to overcome yet inside I was perfectly calm. I rushed to her side and snatched her hand for myself. Cold. That was it, she was gone. Who was to blame? That's right, this was someone's fault, it always was. My mind searched itself for all the people I knew Azy knew. Me. It's my fault. I killed my best friend.

"You only had one friend?" Gerard implored, trying to get a look at all the tears on my face.

"So what? You have none," I barked. Sigh, I ruin everything before it begins. "Why do you ask so many questions?"

"I guess I just wanna know more about you, since we didn't really get time when you were alive."

"Haven't I told you? I don't remember you at all so you're just setting yourself up for nothing. Goodbye," I spontaneously charged out the front door and headed west as far as I could, before the rain got to me. "Fuck you, rain," I said, though it was not my normal voice but something raspy or tattered. Another vision. Now what was the Devil expecting of me? Shooting forward without meaning to, I saw a particularly normal family sitting down to dine. But there was no specific target. I had to kill them all? I did.

"Hey, don't kill 'em yet. Lemme talk to you," a familiar voice said while its familiar hand grabbed at the collar of my shirt. "Send me the souls, not the Devil. Me, not him." I mentally scoffed. "Shut up Jimmy, I'm not dealing with you and if you even think of beating me up again, think about this: We're not in high school anymore. We're both dead so nothing you do to me makes me think twice about your offers." And I was off again to steal more souls.

I'll get good at this. I promise.