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A vast expanse of scorched earth stretched out before the Angel with the Blackened Wings. His weapon at the ready he walked, looking for a fight. He's been here before, many times. Theres always a fight, and he usually wins, but to him the point is lost. He kicks something on the ground. He looks down, and picks up his old label. "Hero" it says, its not shining anymore. He wore it proudly once, when he was loved. He discards it now, meaningless. He looks around more and see's "husband" on the ground, or whats left of it. She smashed it well. He sifts through the pieces, and finds the last label he held. "Father". He grips it in his hand until he bleeds. The emotions run through him like a bolt of lightning. He puts the label back on, a new determination in his heart. She may have smashed one, and rendered the other meaningless, but this is something she couldnt take away. And in the distance he hears the fight, the battle rageing. The warm feeling spreading back through his broken heart, the zest for the battle returning. He checks his weapons, adjusts his armor, spreads his wings. Determination courses through his veins and fire in is eyes, he runs towards the sounds of battle and begins his fight...
The pictures are clear, it amazes me after 11 years how fast I was replaced. How happy she looks, how happy the kids are, all the things I did are what he's doing now. My flowers wither and die, his get pictures and praised by her friends. The same places I took her, the same things I did for the kids, forgotten about. My former friends stand in my driveway with her new man, bullshitting like I was never there. Sitting on my couches, making my children smile. And all her fiends praise her, praise him, and forget what I did, and how hard I tried, just to be used and thrown away. Now Im the pariah, the stain, the nothing. And she floats untouchable by anything. Her resilience amazing. Never judged. Never once held accountable. All these things that make me crazy, sad, angry, all these reasons to easily hate her, and I cant. Resent, yes, hate, no. Why do I still love her?
When that Angel with the Blackened Wings set off into his new life, he wanted to look forward. The past however had different plans. Like hooks into his flesh, his past held on. He struggled so hard, the flesh ripping up from the body, the blood so horrid. He knew the pain would be there, he knew the pain. It was such an old friend. Embrace it he said. Keep pulling he said. Never give up moving forward, no matter how much your old friend wants you to stay. Shredding him, the scars will be deep, all the way to is soul. But he'll learn, he always did. He will survive.
The picture I always said would hurt when she left is now a forgotten memory at the bottom of a box. Everything that was us, she placed in there. Without so much of a second look she tossed those memories into the hole with me. She picked up her shovel and started filling in the dirt, done with me, done with her past. Never breaking a sweat she finished, leaving me there to look after her as she started to leave. Within a few steps he was already at her side, and arm in arm they went. My children staying, not wanting to leave. She called them though, and through obedience they left, but were the only ones looking back.
Deep breaths, listen for the pause. I clench my gun, pop up, shoot. Two more die. Rounds crackle by my head and everthing slows down. Anger takes over. I move from behind cover. Nothing matters anymore. Sight, shoot, kill. The explosions are dull thuds in the background. The rounds zipping by leave trails in the air. I hear each bullet I fire, each shell that hits the ground. Reload on the move. Fire. Run, aquire, shoot, kill. Its so eaasy. Im not afraid. Im running, sprinting, killing. Then I see her. Like I remember. She walks through the carnage, undaunted by the chaos. I unwiittingly lower my weapon and walk towards her. Everything is still but us. My weapon hits the ground and I drop to my knees in front of her. She smiles, but not in a loving way. Its to late, I cant move. She raises her hand and touches my chest. Its like a round going through my heart. I fall back, and I see her walk away, free. Then I succumb to the darkness and wake up screaming.
It was like a sign. I walked outside and like a que from a director it begins to rain, a desperate attempt to wash the pain from my body. Purity falling from the heavens above and touching my skin. The anger and resentment mixing with the water and becoming acid, burning away the ground beneath me. Just another example of my essence destroying something good. And my wings wrap around me to keep me warm. My weapons unfazed by the destruction. Figures. This destroyer able to keep destryoing. Walking through life in all of its beautiful moments, being the outcast nobody wants to acknowledge, but secretly glad is there. But this war isn't about attrition, its about preserverance. This Angel without a god Soldiers on.
When she touched his shoulder, he looked up. There she was, smiling. And he cried. The joy spreading back through his broken heart. This Angel with the blackened wings rose once again. He took her hand and she led him down the path, the way she wanted to go. In the blind joy, he refused to feel the wire being twisted into his limbs. He didn't believe he was a puppet. But soon she was leading, guiding where she wanted him to go. He trusted her, foolishly. And when she was done she cut his strings and let him fall, fall so far away. She smiled and walked away. Discarded once again, the Angel went numb and turned to his only companions. He reached for his weapons, and clenched them tight. He flared his wings proudly and stepped forward into the unknown, ready to go back to war. It was a new war however, the war at home.
