My Guardian, Phil // P.L

Part 09

  I give him a smile. "It's okay. No damage done."  

Everything is finally done. The things moved into the house, the furniture all placed neatly and everything is just right.

After saying goodbye to Max and Darby, Phil and I begin to make our way home. The air is cool and the breeze is slight but my hair still flows softly.

"That Max..." Phil says. "He's... nice."

"He's confident that's for sure." I laugh. "Is your foot okay?"

Phil shrugs. "I just haven't felt pain in a long time." He says.

I ponder. "You can't feel pain up there?" I ask, just to be sure.

"No. We feel things differently. For example, if you get hurt or feel pain, I always get a sort of sickly feeling and if you ever..." Phil trails off.

"If I ever what?"

Phil's face flushes a light shade of pink. "Uhm... if you ever feel really good then I feel it too. Like... yeah."

"Oh... Oh!" I say, suddenly catching on. I now feel very nervous for some reason. Does he mean..?

I shiver at the cold and bring my arms close to my chest for warmth. Phil looks at me and without a second thought, unzips his coat and drapes it around me. It's big and puffy and it's a metallic silver with a big Eskimo-like hood. I gladly take the coat from him and wrap it around me like a cape.

"The longer we're on earth, the more sensitive we become to pain. Have you heard about the story of Tabris?" Phil asks, ignoring the cold. He is wearing a black shirt with bats on it and jeans.

I shake my head in response to Phil's question.

"Well, as the story goes, there was an angel named Tabris. Of course this was thousands of years ago when angels had much more taboo names. Now Tabris, like me, had to save his person from a demon. So he came to earth... and he fell in love."

A gust of wind blows past us and I hug my arms closer to my chest before continuing to listen to Phil's story.

"So when he banished the demon, he had to perform the ritual to send him back to heaven."

"A ritual?" I ask. I had no idea there was a ritual.

"Yeah... a blood ritual. I have to use the knife used to kill Dan to draw blood from my palm. You do the same and then we touch palm to palm." Phil explains. "You don't have to be awake if you don't like blood."

"No it's fine, I'm not squeemish." I explain. "Continue."

"So, when it came to the time to do the ritual... he didn't want to. So he stayed on earth. After the years, he became much more frail, much more sensitive. They say that eventually, even the feel of the air around him touching his skin was too much to handle. His human tried to care for him and make the pain go away, but she couldn't do much. Eventually, he became so weak that he just turned to dust." Phil said. I can see the goosebumps line his arms but I can't tell if he's cold or if the story gives him shivers.

"So an angel wouldn't be able to live here?" I say sadly. Phil shakes his head in response.

I don't know why but the story gives me goosebumps. My skin crawls at the thought of a creature so pure being in so much pain and putting himself through so much torture in the name of love.

"I hate it." Phil says, shivering with anxiety. "That story always makes me feel weird."

Phil and I continue to walk and when we get onto my street, something catches our eye.

There are loads of people gathered around my garden, peering into my house. People walking out of their house and peeking through the small crowd of neighbours. Phil and I exchange confused glances before approaching my home.

"What's going on?" Phil asks as we reach the crowd.

"Oh, Sam! Someone broke in!" One of my neighbours tells me. She doesn't care, she just enjoys the drama just like basically everyone else there.

I look over to my house and see that my front door is wide open, a large crack in the stained glass. Looking straight into my house I can see things pushed onto the floor, things broken, the hall littered with my belongings. The stairs are covered with my clothes which have been thrown carelessly about for the world to see.

I push past the people, leaving Phil slightly behind and I rush into my home. It's worse when you're inside.

"Samantha!" Phil cries after me as he wiggles through the people.

Phil and I stand there in the middle of my home, looking into my living room. Everything is upturned, and my TV has a large, smoking hole in it. I fall to my knees. But I can't cry. I can't find the energy within me.