Angels Shade

by White, L. C

  “That’s no upper body strength, folks.” Coach points out to everyone how weedy I am. “You have been told time and time again, only go as far as your body allows.”

  I’m speechless by what has just happened. I can’t even form a thank you. I look at Tristen as Kim and Marcus walk me away. No one has said a word to him. He has just prevented me from breaking my neck, and no one gives a shit.

  I look over my shoulder as he turns his back to me. People are so shallow, anything different that happens in this town, is torn to shreds.

  ***

  The bell goes and I’m the first to step outside of class. I’m not even going to wait for Kim. I haven’t been able to concentrate at all, after what happened in gym class.

  I hurry across to the bike area and see Tristen is already out of school. He’s removing the chain from his bike, and if I don’t hurry, I’m going to miss him.

  I jog through the gates, and manage to get to him as he starts up the engine.

  “Tristen,” I yell, waving my hand. “Tristen!”

  He looks over his shoulder at me as I arrive at his side. I exhale as he sniggers at me. Okay, again he feels it appropriate to laugh at me. I came here to be civil, and to tell him I appreciate him saving my life. But Tristen Blake must be so frigging cool, he doesn’t need thanking. I swallow my dented pride and smile at him.

  “I just wanted to say thank you for what you did in gym class.”

  “No need.” His lips straighten. “I’m used to things falling from the sky.”

  What the hell does he mean by that? I really don’t know how to deal with his broodiness. I felt sorry for him earlier, and there was that longing gaze he gave me when I was in his arms. Now it’s back to square one of douchebag status.

  “Look, have I done something to offend you in a previous life,” I say, determined he will accept my thanks. “Because I’m throwing you a line here, and by the looks of it, you haven’t made many friends.”

  “I thought I told you, I’m not here to make friends.” His brow slants on me.

  Well, that determination I had, has gone. I guess no matter how much you try to be nice, some people just want to be rotten to the core. If he’s come here to make enemies, then he’s succeeding. Maybe I should just stop trying to be agreeable. I should take a leaf out of his book, and go all out sulky-ass.

  “Fine, you just have a nice life then.” I turn on the spot and begin to walk away, holding my head high.

  I hear the high pitch grumble of his bike, so move off the road so he can ride by me. I’m not even going to look at him. He doesn’t deserve my time.

  I do well, and avoid giving him any attention. But now he’s pulled up to a stop by the curb. He’s waiting for me. I stop and frown, wondering what uncongenial words he wants to say now.

  He holds out a black bike helmet. “You want a ride.”

  I snap shut my gaping jaw, bemused by his request.

  “No,” I utter, confused.

  “You sure?”

  “Tristen, you need to see someone about your mood swings,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He laughs lightly. “I guess you’re right.”

  I smile because his eyes compel me to. We all have problems; I more than others. Maybe he’s dealing with his own shit, and that’s the reason he behaves like he does. Who am I to judge him?

  “You’re welcome, Beth,” he says in a sweet soft tone. “You ever need someone to catch you when you fall, I’ll be right there.”

  He sends my heart into a flutter. What a thing to say. I don’t know for sure, but I think he’s trying to flirt with me, and it’s doing all sorts of crazy things to my body.

  He tugs the bike helmet over his head and leans to me. “Sleep well, Beth.”

  I shake my head, wondering if I heard that right. He’s just told me to sleep well… I think. Before I have the chance to ask him, he’s speeding away through the school gates.

  Chapter Six: The Crash

  Beth

  “I'm so into you, I can barely breathe. And all I wanna do is to fall in deep,” Kim squawks out in the dressing cubicle next to me, thinking she’s the next American Idol winner.

  “Kim, please shut the hell up,” I yell, zipping the side up on the cream lace prom dress I’m trying on.

  Yes, that’s right, I’m going to the prom. I’ve been out of sorts all damn week, since Tristen rode off out of the school gates, leaving me in a state of despair. He was out right flirting with me, and stupid as I am, I wanted more. But I’ve come to the conclusion it was all just a game to amuse him. He’s been absent from school. No sign of him. He’s probably left town, moved onto pastures new to cause trouble elsewhere. He seems the sort not to hang around if things don’t go his way. And I’ll admit, that confusion was replaced by fury, and in the heat of the moment, I agreed Marcus could take me to the frigging prom. So here I am.

  I push open the shutter door to see Kim twirling before me.

  “What do you think then?” she asks.

  She looks great in the red straight leg satin dress, with a slit from the hem to her thigh, revealing too much leg. It’s a stunning slutty kind of dress.

  “You look good,” I say in a flat tone, turning to look in the full length mirror.

  Wow, I think this dress is perfect. But I can’t get excited. Even though this is a flawless prom dress, it doesn’t make me want to go.

  “Right girl, spit it out,” Kim says, right behind me. “We’re at Marcy’s boutique, trying dresses on for our homecoming, and you’re about as interesting to shop with as a wet fish. You’ve been in a mood all week. Is it that Tristen guy?”

  Oh great. Have I made it that obvious I’m pining for some dick-bag who doesn’t want to know? I try to avoid eye contact with her in the reflection of the mirror.

  “No!”

  “Yeah right. He’s a bad apple, Beth,” she says then tuts. “I was worried at one point, thought he was stalking you.”

  “What do you mean?” I spin around on my bare feet to face her.

  “In every class, I saw how he was staring at you, like he wanted to eat you.” She budges me aside so she can appreciate the dress she has on. “He’s a pervert, straight up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was the one stealing panties from the girls changing room.”

  “Jeez Kim, shut up,” I say in a growl, because I don’t want to think of Tristen skulking around in the girls locker room, sniffing other girls pants.

  “See, you’re so into him. Why else are you sticking up for him?” she says in her know it all tone.

  I’m so angry right now. Since she’s been hanging around with easy Luke, she’s gone all high and mighty.

  Completely ignoring her, I go back into my changing cubical and slam the shutter door, then unzip the dress. I have no interest in bitching about someone who’s not here to defend them self. Yeah, Tristen was an oddball at Mesa High, but so what.

  “Beth,” Kim says, tapping on the door. “I’m sorry.”

  I huff out, then unbolt and swing the door open, holding the dress against my chest so it doesn’t fall open. I eyeball Kim’s face, tutting because she has her bottom lip curled over at me, sulking.

  “Just admit it to me, you like him,” she continues to pester.

  What’s the harm in telling her the truth anyway? He’s not in the picture anymore, and she won’t stop digging until I admit it.

  “Okay, I liked him,” I grumble. “But the phase has passed.”

  A smile comes across her lips. “I knew it. So I now know you’re into the bad boys.”

  “And Luke is mister perfect?” I raise my brow at her.

  An expression I know well appears on her face, as she silently reminisces. I’ve seen it before when she slept with Stephen Chambers, Marcus’s football buddy. Her eyes slim, lips pout, and a tinge of red coats her tanned cheeks. I never thought this time last year, my best friend would become content with being slutty. I thought she was like me, scared to death of looking a fool
. But since she lost her virginity, she’s been like a wild animal in heat.

  “He’s not mister perfect. He is perfect at one thing though.”

  “I don’t want to know!” I snap, before she begins to explain every gruesome sexual encounter she’s had with him.

  “Luke and I are cool, that’s all I was going to say. And I’m proud of you for not giving in, and jumping on Tristen,” she adds. “You’re too innocent for a guy like him. He would have ripped you to pieces.”

  I frown at her. “Innocent?”

  “Yeah. You don’t know where a guy like that has been,” she says in a counselling tone. “You hang onto that cherry of yours, until a half decent guy comes along. Then you can have fun.” She giggles.

  “Oh Kim!” I slam the door on her.

  “You know I’m right.” I listen as she closes the door to her cubical, humming to the cheesy soundtrack playing in the background.

  ***

  I didn’t know it was so late. I’ve had my cell phone on silent, and my mom has already called me four times. I was supposed to be home for ten-thirty, and I’m an hour late. It was Kim’s fault. She had Luke’s jacket in the backseat of her dad’s Audi (which I can’t believe he let her use) and she wanted to drop it off at his house. I had to honk the horn so she would stop sucking on his face. I can’t describe how damn stressed I am right now. The whole Tristen talk. Her making unnecessary pit stops. My mom calling. And the fact I have just spent one hundred and fifty bucks on a dress I don’t even want to wear. It has been the worst shopping trip ever.

  As the cords of the next song come on the radio, I close my eyes, cringing. I know exactly what’s coming. I’m going to be serenaded by Kim’s tone-deaf vocals. She’s been a fan of the folk group, Lost in You, for god knows how long. It’s all guitars, high-pitch voices, and tambourines. I hate the tambourine, and this group have it jangling at the end of every sentence. It goes right through me and makes my teeth ache.

  She turns up the volume screeching the lyrics in my earhole, nudging my arm for me to sing along. I wish she would keep her damn eyes on the road. It’s pitch-black outside, and kind of creepy. The tall pine trees to each side of the road sway over us, like the shadow figure that appears in my nightmares.

  I notice her lack of concentration more as she belts out the chorus. She’s speeding, bouncing up and down in the seat, not paying any attention at all. My fingers curl around the door handle as I lean and reach out to flick off the radio.

  “Hey, I was listening to that!”

  I breathe in an anxious breath as her knee bobs up and down. She lets out a terrified squeal, pumping her foot on the brake erratically.

  “FUCK!” she screams.

  “What… what!”

  “The brakes don’t work!”

  “What do you mean they don’t work?”

  “Exactly what I said… they don’t work,” she yells.

  The blood drains from my entire upper half. I can feel it flowing and whooshing around my pounding heart as Kim swerves the car. Like in sleep paralysis, I’m trying to cry out, but the fear has hold of me tightly.

  All noises fade into nothing. I feel like I’m moments from death as Kim loses control. The front wheels veer right then left, and as though the car has a mind of its own, it judders my body up and down in the seat, as it flies, tips, and rolls across the tarmac. Glass showers over my face like a torrential rainstorm, small sharp droplets cutting the skin on my cheeks. My eyes are closed against the airbag. My body is cold and numb, and blood pools in my inverted skull.

  The car has now seized toppling and is on the roof. The sound of it rocking and creaking slows. The taste of blood on my tongue is joined by the smell of burning fuel. Oh god, I need to get out of here.

  I open my stinging eyes as my trembling fingers feel for the seatbelt clip. Gasping, I crick my neck sideways to look at Kim. She’s unconscious, and as battered and bruised as I.

  I managed to unclip my belt and I land hard on my shoulder. I growl out in pain as I maneuver onto my knees. I nudge and shake Kim’s arm.

  “K…Kim. Wake up!”

  She groans slightly, then silences fast, like she’s intoxicated. I try again, but she’s well out. Barely able to catch a shallow breath, I stretch my arm across her lap to try and release her belt, but I can’t reach.

  “SHIT KIM.”

  I struggle to move my cramped body to the door, the palms of my hands stepping over the glass. I wince, feeling tiny shards sticking into my fingertips.

  The door is bent and half open in the dirt. I know I may not fit through the gap, but I have to try. I have to get Kim out of this car before it explodes. I use my feet and kick over and over on the crumpled door panel, as hard as I can.

  “Come on!”

  The force of the blow sends an intense shooting pain up from my foot, and into my hip. I scream out, noticing a small bone sticking out from my ankle. Adrenalin charges my system. It’s a broken ankle, not a neck. If I want to live, I have to carry on. Howling out in anger and agony, I kick the door again to create a bigger gap. Huffing and straining, I turn onto my front, and heave my pain riddled body outside across the dirt.

  I drag the lower half of my body across the harsh foliage. Blood drips into my eyes as I see we are meters into the woods, on a steep incline. The only thing preventing the car from tumbling down, is the trunk of a tree embedded deep into the hood.

  I try to get up onto my feet, but collapse to the ground. The only thing I can do is pull myself to the driver’s side. Like an injured sniper, I crawl and yelp. Every movement is so painful.

  I follow the foggy glare of the left side headlight through the fumes, but have to stop as my heart beat slows, and the carnage around me spins. I can’t see. I’m so cold… so tired. I’m trying to stay conscious, but I can’t. I’m being pulled by the obscurity.

  I groan and mumble, hearing the unhurried heavy sound of footsteps. Is it the monster in my dreams? Is this what death is like? I want to see, but I can’t. My body has been destroyed, and I have no senses right now. I feel myself floating upward. I feel no pain now, only a comforting warmth.

  Chapter Seven: Lost Truth

  Tristen

  I’m not supposed to bring her here. I’m not supposed to do anything other than observe, monitor, and if need be, protect. I have to wait until it is her time, and watching as she dragged her body through the woodland, trying to save her friend, I thought that light would shine down on her, and all this would stop. But no, seems like the powers that be, want to torment her further.

  She’s been in my bed for hours, and for hours I have watched over her. She’s my first mission, and if I fail, it will be punishment by death. For what is meant to be a holy place, forgiveness is nonexistent here. I wasn’t made and molded to be forgiven. I was made to serve and fight. I’m not supposed to doubt, or stray off my path. I exist to follow orders down to the very last letter. I’m cold. I’m unyielding. I am a Sentinel.

  I was created and trained for a very specific purpose. To seek out and protect salvation. I didn’t account for salvation being so damn difficult to be around. All I have been taught, all the writings of her watcher, hasn’t stopped humanity clouding and screwing up my senses. I am a man, and the sight of her green attentive eyes against her long dark red hair, and her pale skin, affected me the moment I laid eyes on her. The way her eyes and nose crinkle when she smiles. That nervous twitch she has when she’s trying to be tough. And that stubborn streak I’ve only had a glimpse of. She’s no weapon. She’s just a girl. A girl who’s really got under my skin. Being near her has only highlighted how dead I’ve been.

  As for my cover, it was all meant to be an act. An alternate version of myself. Rumors of me living in a trailer, being a brawler, and having any girl I wanted, were all planted before my arrival. But I became lost to that version of myself. It took me over. I could see the life I could have had on god’s green earth. I enjoyed the anger and the rebel in me, it made sense. I enjoye
d fantasizing about the girl now lying in my bed.

  She’s different, special, and not in the way I was taught, but the human way. For me love is forbidden, especially with her. And if I’m so much as tempted I should report, and turn myself in. But I care too much. She’s been toyed with and lied to, her whole life. It’s not destiny. It’s some fucked up sick game being played by both sides.

  I stand before the roaring flames of the fire, looking down over her clean sweet sleeping body. It’s time for me to repent, not to a higher power, but myself. I bend down and open the ironclad trunk by the mantel, to take out the beaded flogger as old as I. A baby has a rattle, or a soother for comfort. I was given this trunk, containing my arms, scripture, and the chastisements a Sentinel will suffer for breaking the rules.

  My fingers curl around the warm tatty leather bound handle of the flogger, as I make my way to the foot of the bed. I take one last look at her before I leave. She doesn’t deserve to be in this position. Free will was never given to her. She’s innocent in all this, and I’ll admit, she’s beautiful. She makes me weak for her flesh. It’s a sin, but a worthy sin. I can’t explain why she has this effect on something as cold as I. Whether it’s that sexy defiance in every conversation we’ve had, or her persistent empathy. I’ve heard her sticking up for me. All I know is she’s gorgeous inside and out. I’m beginning to not give a rat’s ass what my orders are in all this. I’m beginning to think a new path should be written out for me.

  I kneel before the altar in my chapel, with my eyes sealed, and the flogger in both hands. I’m supposed to pray, but I don’t. Instead, I think of her, and curse her father.

  ***

  Beth

  Wow, I feel so fresh, so relaxed, and so comfortable. I’m surrounded by sheets that feel like fluffy clouds, and a mattress that contours snugly to my body. What a fantastic night’s sleep. Perhaps the days of being haunted by the hooded faceless freak, are gone for good. I’ve never felt so energized.

  I stretch out my legs and arms into a starfish, crunching the sheets up into my hand, while digging the bare heels of my feet into the mattress. Yawning, I sit up, flickering open my eyes as a warm orange glow spreads across my face. Where the hell am I? In a dream I’m guessing. Some crazy whacked out dream set in a medieval castle. There’s a stone fireplace blazing before me, as huge as a house. Shit, I’m wearing a thin cotton gown that even my grandma would find old-fashioned. I whip my head around to check the bed behind me. It’s not paralysis, I’m still inside my own body. A dream then, it has to be.