Fallen Angel

Chapter Five

I looked to my left only to find a figure standing a good ten feet away. He had hair that was as black as the night, so dark you couldn't see the single strands. Leaning on a tree with a cigarette in hand showed just how much his skin resembled paper. It wasn't a pasty white that made you cringe; it mixed well somehow with the color of his hair and somewhat suited him.

The smoke of his bud swirled around him, surrounding his laid back form. The sunglasses that sat on the bridge of his nose hid his eyes and prevented me from seeing the color of his orbs, I had a sinking feel they'd be just as dark - maybe more than - as his hair.

I blinked a few times before the question registered, was that a weird way of asking how old I was? "Um.. I'm seventeen."

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, no ones around. How long? I know it can't be more than a few weeks since your hairs still white."

What in the world was he talking about? Hair still white? "Um.. I don't know what you're talking about, I was born this way." This guy was seriously giving me a weird feeling, like something was off.

He stared at me for a good five whole seconds, making me squirm and clench me hands around the bikes handles. I know it's not nice to walk away when someone's still talking to you but, this might be the first time I ignored that knowing.

He tossed his bud to his right and left it burning, not taking his gaze from my face. What was with the sunglasses? And he should really smother out that light, what if some leafs blow this way and catch the flames before they die out? I don't want to be a possible aid in a fire.

I glanced away from him and stared at the dropped cigarette, the corner of my eye twitching. I swallowed, "You should really put that out." I looked back to find him motionless, unmoved by what I was suggesting.

I bit my lip as I felt the breeze pick up a bit, it could possibly keep the small fire alight just long enough for the leaves arrival. "It's dangerous you know. That's how accidents happen." My throat felt like it was as dry as the piles of sand that laid beneath the suns rays at the beach on days end.

My eyes darted back up and when I saw he still hadn't moved, I sighed in defeat. Does he not care at all? We stood in front of a preschool for heaven sate, is there not a heart pumping in his chest? I carefully placed my bike on the ground and made my way to the fallen object, walking in a circle around the strange boy in order to keep distance.

I briskly walked over and put the hazard out, letting out a small sigh of relief through my nose, the danger gone. I've always been that way, having the need to make sure everything is safe and unthreatened by even the slightest thing. It took awhile to even graze the road with my bikes tire, having the fear of being hit by a moving care seize me. But after some time and a lot of reassurance from my parents I soon grew out of that fear. Mostly.

I just as quickly strode back over to my bike and bent my knees to pick it up by the handles when he spoke once again. "Why can't you answer the question? We're the same, you and I. It's not like I have any way of ratting you out. Come on, cough it up, its not like it matters."

A crease formed between my two brows, confusion washing over my and leaving a heavy stench strong enough to make your nose flare. I was done, this boy was crazy in some way and I don't know how to deal with him. These strange questions were stirring something in me and making the urge to hurl become stronger and stronger for some unknown reason. I sighed again, I guess I'm taking on my fathers traits today. "Look, I don't know who you are, what you want or, what you're talking about. Sorry."

I swung my leg over the bike and settled onto the seat, slightly lifting my foot to peddle. A pressure squeezed my arm in a tight grasp, stopping my intent to flee. My eyes grew wide and the thumping in my chest beat out of rhythm as a thought raced through me. Danger. Danger. Danger. The intuitive feeling increased the longer the hand remained in contact with my arm.

The boy stood only inches away from me, his mouth twisted in a way that made me think of a man I had seen days ago. I had been waiting at a stop, the cars zooming by in a frenzy of a blur. The man stood on the other side, dressed in dark rags called cloths. I watched him insert a laminated card into the ATM machine once, twice, three times, a fourth.

He kept going, picking up the pace as he went until he was going so fast the card looked as though it never fully made it in enough to scan. Then, he suddenly stopped and I saw his mouth morph into the same position as the one I stood looking into right now at this very moment. Not even a mere second later the man snarled and began beating at the metal box, snapping me out of my trance.

I was stuck, the rhythm of my heart skipping put of beat as I found myself waiting for him to raise his fists and bare down on me for not giving him what he wanted. I'd bet my lucky star I was paler than a ghost who just got the wind knocked out of them by a fellow deceased. And my eyes most likely showed no sign of having lids, peeled back so far it blended in with the skin below my brows.

I was petrified.

Fear gripped me and sunk into my bones, weighing me down and preventing me from moving. The space filling my mind was as blank and white as a clean wipe board that's still to be used. I couldn't even force my throat to contract to swallow the large growing lump in my throat.

"All I want is a number, why can't you give me that? Why?" His hold tightened and forced a whimper past my lips, making me think he was seconds away from braking my arm. I wanted so badly to say a random number, in hopes of him accepting that and leaving me alone but I couldn't. Lying has always been a thing I was never able to do. No matter how small or how big, I just couldn't do it.

Just as I was about to plead once more the hairs on my arms and legs stood on end, an electric current surging in the air. When I looked up I saw the boys eyes widen and fill with shock. He silently released me while stuck in some sort of daze.

"Ho-" He was cut off by a blinding light.