Fallen Angel

♱ CHAPTER SIXTEEN

☼ JT

     I RAISE MY HAND to the door knocker and knock twice. The Angel stares back at me, iron eyes glinting with disapproval. I try not to let my nerves show, but my hand is shakin' like a leaf. Anything could be on the other side of that door, and no matter what it is, I have to face it. I don't like the fact that I don't know what's waiting for me. There could be a fire-breathing dragon on the other side of that door. There could be an army of Angels anxious to turn me in for sneaking around. I don't know, but I've come so far. There's no turning back now.

     My knocks resonate throughout the hallway. For a moment, an almost blindingly-white light beams from beneath the door, brightening the endless hallway. It illuminates the white floors and walls, everything glassy and pristine. All sound fades away. For a split second, I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in the walls. I expect to see my fear and doubt reflected in the image. Instead, I see a young woman ready for anything. There's a fierceness to her — something in the way she sets her jaw, or maybe the way she furrows her brows — that screams resilience. She looks, despite it all, like a girl with some fight left in her.

     As the light fades, so does the reflection. I'm left stranded in the near-darkness again, only this time, something is different. The birds are still silent, the water no longer rushing. The only sound to be heard is my sharp intake of breath as words appear on the door right before my eyes.

     Demons trapped, warriours borne / And thos who face the lightning's scorn / Beware, for only the pure of herte / May keepe from being torne apart.

     "The Blade," I breathe, and the voices return.

     Bravery or foolishness? one hisses, the sound like a shard of glass grating against stone.

     Only a fool would dare come here, another spits.

     Ignore them, a separate voice encourages me. It's the same voice as before, the same gentle voice which coaxed me to continue earlier. I realize now the depth of the voice, the distinct timbre of a powerful man. How had I not noticed before? Who does the voice belong to?

     The call of birds returns, filtering out through the crack beneath the door. I watch in awe as the riddle begins to disappear, then realize too late that I only got to read it once. I hope that won't be my fatal mistake.

     It awaits, the man's voice tells me. Here goes nothing. Without a second thought, I push the door open—

     —and find myself falling through thin air. Nothing but grey sky surrounds me as I plummet to my impending doom. I fall farther and farther down, so fast I can't even see the ground. A shriek of fury and fear suddenly rips through me when I realize I made a fatal mistake. The Blade didn't call me here. Death did.

     Or maybe I won't ever hit the ground. Maybe I'll tumble through the air for all eternity, paying the price for ignoring the voices in the hall. They tried to warn me. And look where my stubbornness got me. Another scream rips through me, shredding my lungs with its claws, breakin' my heart with the sound of its rage. I failed. I failed Blaire. I failed Amal. I failed Grim and even Xavier. I failed Luke. I failed myself.

If hopelessness is a place, I found it.

     God. Why couldn't I have just had a normal life? Why couldn't I just be a normal girl with a normal story and a normal past? I don't even have a real name. "Just Time" is a poor excuse of a name. Why couldn't I have parents? Why couldn't I have friends? A home? Why couldn't I have gone to school? Made friends, made enemies. Scraped my knee on the playground. Passed notes and had a new crush every month. Held hands with a boy and raved to my friends about it. Fell in love. Had my heart broken before I even knew myself. Loved someone. Lost someone. Isn't that real life? Aren't these the experiences that make us human? From the very start to the very end, shouldn't our lives be our own?