Fell the Angels - Joslinne Morgan (books suggested by bill gates .txt) 📗

fell, it was maddening to see the now useless appendage fall into the pool of blood, getting quite thoroughly soaked. The feathers were utterly ruined now, their beauty lost forever. Utterly useless to her.
The second wing hurt more than the first. When it hit the ground, she felt for the first time in all of her long memory – naked.
It was like she weighed nothing at all now, with the weight of her wings off of her back. Excruciating pain still wracked her body and it was all she could do to remain lying there, much less consider moving.
The prince stood there, and who knew how long the process took. A hundred years, more? Who kept track anymore. Time meant nothing here.
Her existence meant nothing here.
She tried, but it was nearly impossible. All she could think of was of the humiliation, and of how much it hurt. Mephistopheles, she knew, would have crawled, if that was all he could do, to the feet of the prince and kiss his hand in reverence. She knew Alastor would have praised the dark prince for his misery, thanking him for it even! She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t, she wasn’t like them, she didn’t serve him. She didn’t worship him. It was all a big mistake. She belonged in Heaven.
It was all very silent. Her screams had long faded into the timeless void. No one had said a word, Mephistopheles had not even given her his hand in sympathy to help her up.
She knew what they were all waiting on her to do.
Unable to control how badly she was shaking, Amy pushed herself up on her elbows and lifted herself out of the pool of blood. She couldn’t get much further than that, she was still on her knees, with her head hanging down and her shoulders high in the air. It was better than nothing at all. There was no feeling at all now, even the pain had gone numb. It was all she could do to keep her eyes part way open.
Slowly, in the span of what seemed to be an eon –she began to crawl. It was a long, painful procedure, but she managed to do so. She was angel, she was stronger than most humans, even deprived of her wings.
Her hands brushed across the tip of her broken wings somewhere during the process, and she recoiled, nearly toppling on her side. Finally, she reached the prince, and with a heavy sigh, she allowed her arms to give and dropped down onto her stomach. Kissing the hem of his robe.
“Master,” she breathed in her lovely, musical voice. “Thank you.”
The prince threw back his head and laughed.
Mephistopheles joined him, and Alastor as well. They were all laughing. The demons who tossed the souls off the side of the cliff were laughing at her humiliation, the entire Satanic hierarchy had joined in the hellish chorus. Abigor, the grand duke of hell, was screeching with delight. Baalberith, his secretary, was doubled over with mirth. Cagrino, Dagon, Zaebos, Asmodeus, Azazel – they were all laughing at her. Every one of them!
She wanted to cover her ears, but she hadn’t the strength. She was forced to listen to and bear their harsh ridicules.
Amy, poor little Amy, was never going to find her way back into Heaven.


Chapter One: The Fall

There is something wrong with me.
Heather stared at her reflection in the mirror opposite her. She looked like she had been dragged through hell. Her eyes were rimmed with red; her bleach-blonde hair was messy and clinging to the side of her face, wet with blood that was oozing from the scratch on her forehead.
There is something wrong with me, there has to be, he wouldn’t hit me if there weren’t!
He claimed to love her. He always said he loved her, he had even cried as he hit her, and said he wouldn’t do it again.
But he always did it again.
This wouldn’t happen if I were a better person. He would be so much happier if I were dead. They would all be.
She thought of all the people who would benefit from her death. Her mother was a single parent holding down two part time jobs just so that they could eat and make the rent payments. She didn’t have any time for her own life, she was so focused on just surviving.
If I were dead, then she wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore.
She was a burden to everyone. She was a burden to her friends – what few she had. Mostly, she was a loner. It was hard keeping friends and moving from school to school just because her mother couldn’t hold down a job. She had been at Fairview High for a year now, it was her sophomore year. She had known Brandon for six months…
He would definitely be better off without her.
Why live, then? End it now. Don’t make them suffer anymore, don’t let yourself suffer.
She closed her eyes, tears running down her cheeks. She hated this voice in her head. She hated it. She hated feeling like this … damn it, she wanted to die!
End it now! What are you waiting for?
A miracle.
She didn’t believe in miracles anymore. Heather hadn’t believed in miracles since her father had died when she was six.
A little white bottle of aspirin sat on the edge of the sink. Heather stared at it for a long time before reaching out and snatching it, hugging it close to her chest as if it were a child. Looking down, she read the label. It very clearly stated that one should not take more than two at a time.
She unscrewed the cap, with only the mildest of difficult, and peered inside. The precious white pills were so inviting, so tempting. The bottle was very nearly full, almost brand new.
If more than two is harmful, then what could a dozen do? Or more?
There was only one way to find out.
Her mother wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be for at least three more hours. That left plenty of time. Keeping the bottle of pills clenched tightly in her hand, Heather took a detour to the kitchen of the small trailer home. She opened the refrigerator door and found that all they had was a nearly empty jug of outdated milk and her mother’s usual half-empty bottle of Tequila. Both Heather and her mother pretended that the bottle wasn’t there, but Heather had caught her mother more than once sitting in the living late at night after work, watching movies on Lifetime and crying as she placed the bottle to her lips and tilted her head back.
Maybe when I’m dead, she won’t be ashamed to sneak around in her own house.
After a moment’s indecision, Heather grabbed the bottle and shut the refrigerator door. She was making her way back to the bathroom when something caught her eye. The dim yellow kitchen light caught the blade of a large bread knife that was lying next to the sink. She couldn’t remember why it was out, or what they had last used it for. But it was there, and so very inviting.
What could it hurt? You’ve studied this before. Just because you overdose does not mean you’ll die. You might as well make sure it happens.
She grabbed the knife off of the counter.
Now bearing the knife, the tequila, and the aspirin, Heather made her way back to the bathroom. She set all three items down on the sink and bent over to turn on the bathtub faucet, letting the steaming hot water fill up the tub. Her hands were shaking badly, and the tears were threatening once more.
Damn it, stop shaking, you can’t get anything done that way!
She took off all her clothing, sliding off first her black sweater, and then the purple tank-top underneath. Next came the black jeans, sliding down below her hips and revealing several dark green and black bruises from where Brandon had hit her before. Only one was from when she actually fell off her bike and hit the pavement.
By the time she had undressed, the bathtub was full. She went to the bathroom sink, and looked into the mirror once more. A scrawny, sad-eyed girl, her face red and swollen from crying stared back at her. Her lips were trembling, and she was still shaking. Here she was, nothing to hide behind.
What a pitiful creature you are.
“Shut up,” she choked, hating the voice. “Just shut up!” she slammed her fist into the mirror, doing little more than making it shudder. She grabbed the bottle of tequila and placed it to her lips. The burning liquid filled her mouth and nearly made her choke. She managed to choke it down, and the second swig didn’t take half so bad. This time, she filled her palm with the little white aspirin, and placed them all in her mouth at once, swallowing them down with another mouthful of tequila.
She lost count of how many she swallowed. She had reduced the bottle to nearly half of its contents, so that would have to be enough. Struggling to keep her breathing even, and beginning to shake even more violently, she grabbed the knife from the sink and slid into the warm bathtub water.
She lifted her wrist, and placed the edge of the knife blade against it. Every blue vein became visible in that moment. She knew that once she sliced open the skin, then it would well up, and turn dark red. She wondered if she could deal with the sight of her own life’s blood leaking into the water, staining her skin.
Coward. Coward!
She slammed the knife as deep as she could into her wrist. She screamed, and her hand jerked away spasmodically, slamming into the side of the bathtub. She bit her lip in pain and threw the knife across the room, watching as it hit the wall and clattered against the linoleum floor.
There was a noise in the hallway, as if someone were walking down the hall. Terrified that her mother had come home earlier, Heather began to panic, and she struggled to climb out of the tub. She made the mistake of trying to grip the side with her wounded hand, and the pain shot up her arm. She cried out again and fell back into the tub, the heated water sloshing over the side and splattering onto the floor. She couldn’t stand the thought of the look in her mother’s eyes when she saw what her daughter had been reduced to, what she had done to herself.
The door to the bathroom opened. A tiny white foot stepped onto the cracked linoleum, slippery with flecks of blood and bathwater. White robes fell over the foot, covering it completely, and a delicate body followed it. A heart-shaped face framed by fat gold curls peered in. Tears welled up in large blue eyes as they regarded the sight before them.
“Oh, Heather,” the stranger whispered, its musical voice so full of sadness that Heather burst into tears at the very sound of it. “Heather, what have you done?”
What in the hell?
Was she hallucinating? Was the aspirin already affecting her head? Was she going insane? Who was this? What was she doing here? How did she get into the trailer?
“Go away!” Heather screamed hoarsely, panic in her voice. Her heart was beating rapidly, her head was swimming, her face was flushed. She was hot