I Thought We Were Dead

CHAPTER ONE
DESOLATION
The walls close in as death whispers quietly the signs of insanity. Gazing into nothing as the black destroys the last of will and this seems to be my peace. Strange how I find serenity in a soulless, hollow and dreadful place such as this. What am I to become? I see not a reason for madness any longer for it lost its fun long ago. The meaning of sanity escapes me and try as I might I cannot recover what it means to be sane. Locked in between psychotic and carefree I can't see any reason to go on anymore. Crows circle my tomb. These hands no longer know strength for I gave up long ago. The might I once retained I am certain left me along with my sanity. Dressed in black and chain I have nothing. No heart to give, no life to lend and no soul to sell. The darkness I once controlled has consumed my body and soul and I fear it is the best I've felt in all my years on this plain.
I stare out of my window; it is covered in dust so I do not see much. The forest that surrounds my tomb is thick and vast. I wouldn’t see much anyways. The crows that land on the roof side of my tomb are my only friends. Something in my dead, soulless and hollow eyes is inviting to them. It doesn't matter, nothing does. I can almost hear my name being whispered gently on the wind but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. As I pace my tomb I find that for all I had I having nothing to show. No friends, No belongings, not even a name. My eyes are white and empty just as I am. My black hair has grown long and become unkempt. In my endless pacing I found an old black trench coat. It isn't mine, it’s far too small. Perhaps I had a friend at some point in the past. I believe I had friends; one of them surely left this here by mistake. Maybe I should return it, it would certainly give me a purpose even if only for a short moment, but I've been in my tomb so long I am unsure if I remember how to get out of it, let alone the forest surrounding it.
Crows circle my tomb. I feel less and less human as the days pass and run together, though I am unsure if I was ever human to begin with. It seems I can't even muster the slightest of strength anymore, leaving my tomb is impossible. The trench coat I found remains in the chair I found it in. I often ponder who it belonged to. I wonder if they are still alive, where they are if they are alive and how they could ever be a friend to someone as wretched as I. I see no point in questions anymore though; I simply ask myself things to pass the time. I stop and stare out of my window, it seems clearer than usual. A crow sits just on the ceil gazing back at me. I open the window with the hopes of inviting it in; though I am sure it will fly away. I stop only for a moment before opening the window, I could've sworn I heard familiar voices but I know that the voices I hear have no body. I open the window and much to my surprise the crow doesn't fly away. I move back to invite it inside but I am not hopeful any longer. The crow doesn't move, as I knew it wouldn't, it just stares at me in all my darkness. As strange as it seems I could swear its eyes are as white as my own, very strange for a crow.
I leave my window open now, the crow comes and sits on my ceil some days. Its white eyes stare deep into mine when it looks at me, almost like its willing me to leave my tomb. It has become something to look forward to, it’s the first friend I have had in many years. It never comes inside of my tomb, perhaps it doesn't want to be consumed by the dark and blackness that resides here. I find myself waiting on the crow each day, like a child waits for a present. At first it came almost every day but now it doesn't come at all. I cannot remember the last time I saw the crow, like the rest of my life I have forgotten. I leave my window closed now. Crows circle my tomb.
I find myself pacing more often as I use to. The trench coat remains in the spot I first found it in; I leave it alone for I have no use for it in my desolation. I find myself in a part of my tomb I cannot remember. A door sits closed, locked from the other side. I wonder what lies behind it. I search my tomb for what may unlock the door, upon my fifth hour of searching I find a ring of keys sitting on the table by the window. Strange as it seems I don't remember them being there but perhaps I never noticed. I return to the door to see what lies behind. Oddly the first key I chose fit the lock perfectly, it seemed familiar. I turn the key and then the handle then I push the door open, it creeks as if it hasn't been open in years. The room was almost completely empty. A sword lay on the floor in the corner of the room. This part of my tomb felt strange, the blackness and desolation I feel is replaced by hatred and anger, almost like this room was intentionally locked but I do not know why. I walk over to the sword and pick it up, I unsheathe it  and find there is writing on the blade, I do not recognize the language but I know what is says; solitude.
I take the sword from the room and lock the door behind me; I set it next to the trench coat. I do not wonder who it belongs to for I have the oddest feeling it was mine at some point in time in the past, why I locked it away I can't remember. Crows circle my tomb. The darkness has grown strong and now crawls in every corner of my tomb. I don't care much though; it has been a feeling of comfort for me for so long now I don't know what I'd do without it. I often stare out my window; the dust has gathered and made it unclear again. I cannot see much out of it anymore; the thick and vast forest around my tomb wouldn't allow me to see much anyways. I am locked away because I chose to be. The whispers of death call more frequently now but I don't pay them any mind.
I find myself standing at the exit of my tomb, I try to find a reason to leave it but none occur. I turn to the trench coat and the sword resting in the chair, I still ponder who the coat belongs to and I wonder how long the sword has been missing from the world or if it was ever lost. The blackness speaks lies to me now, friendly words of cruel intention. I use to have control over it but that gift has left me long ago. Crows circle my tomb.
I reach hesitantly for the door handle, I wish to leave my tomb to find a purpose so that I might have more of an existence than this wretched shell I call a life. Such a hollow and lonely place, the sorrow seeps through the walls as if it were a disease. Like a sickness the dark and blackness consume all inside my tomb. I step away from the door. I see no point in leaving for I have no true purpose.
As the days continue to run together I find there is nothing of life inside my tomb. Death dwells here and I am the only other. The sorrow echoes down the halls and corridors of my tomb and it feels as though I've been trapped here for centuries. Crows circle my tomb. The paint on the walls has worn away, and the molding on the floors has been gone for some time. Perhaps if I fixed them up it wouldn't seem so bleak and sorrowful here.
Time is just a lie to me now, day and night are the only change I notice anymore. My soul, mind and heart wish to leave my tomb but my body refuses to let them. I stare out of my window more and more often, I sometimes forget to sleep. I noticed my garden, or at least I think it is mine. Only dead vines remain, burnt soil and ash are all that seems to be inside of it. Maybe I should tend to it; I could admire it from my window. Tending to it would require I leave my tomb, I am unsure if I can do such a thing. I cannot even grasp the door knob, what could possibly give me the strength to push the door open. It seems the darkness doesn't want me to leave; it wants me to stay here until I die, but I have been alive for so long I am not sure I can die. A gift, or perhaps a curse, either way this blackness requires I remain here in my tomb for all time.
The silent screams of the dark keep me awake now; I haven't slept in so long I have forgotten what it means to be tired. This blackness must end though it seems endless. A simple light would be a tremendous start in this but I cannot find my reason so the light escapes along with my freedom. Crows Circle my tomb. I fear that time has passed me by and left me for dead as I should be. The coat and the sword have collected much dust and a few cob webs over these endless days. I could've sworn I just picked them up yesterday but it seems I haven't touched either item in a long time now. It is impossible to see out of my window now; the dust has become thick and black. I would open it but it appears to have rusted shut.
I stare at the walls now, my window is blocked so I see no point in trying to fool myself, and I will never look out of it again. I feel as though something is calling me, something outside knows my name. The call is slight and I can barely hear it but I am positive it is there. Perhaps in all my misery I have once again gone mad, I did a long time ago but it lost its point like everything else in my life. Perhaps I have come full circle back into insanity, though I think it just might be my imagination for madness has no meaning if you are as simple as nothing. I stand at my front door; my wish to leave has been growing more and more with the passing of time. It's almost enrages me that I cannot leave, this damn door would have never been able to stop me in the past, or at least I don't think it would have been able to. Now the door seems indestructible, impervious to my attempts. I will never leave here; I am to rot here in the darkness. If I could leave I imagine it would be just as pointless as my tomb, the forest surrounding my tomb would only be another cage for I don't know my way through its seemingly endless maze. Crows circle my tomb.

The days grow longer, or perhaps they have stopped all together. It gets harder and harder to tell as time seems to pass. My window is covered in so much dirt I can’t see out of it at all anymore, no light comes in through it and it feels colder than usual inside my tomb. The winter is drawing near, or maybe it’s already here and I have just not noticed it in all my sorrow. My bleak existence holds no meaning to the world, I am uncertain if the world even knows I am here or even that I am alive. Alive; never has a word meant so little to one person. Maybe one day I will pass on from this life and into the next, perhaps I will have a purpose then. Perhaps I will be a credit to all in the next life to come or, maybe, just maybe I will live in this sad, droll world until time ends and everything begins again. I often think that I have been here for so long that time has ended and began many times and I remain forgotten for I cannot leave my tomb. The crows circling my tomb often bring me something to think about, why are they circling my wretched and sorrowful dwelling? Why do they stay so near to a place as black and hateful as this? Why do they wish to be near such a horrible place?

Crows circle my tomb. Does life have a point beyond my understanding? Perhaps I have been locked away so long I have forgotten my purpose and that is why I do not have one. I stand at the entrance to my tomb; my rage has grown for my inability to leave this wretched place, even if just to go outside. I clinch my fists around this hilt of the sword I found and draw it from its casing. It almost feels like my anger is strengthening its blade. The shadows begin to gather around me, they feel dense and heavy, they fuel me and it almost feels like they are willing me to escape from the horrid life I lead. Without another thought I lunged with the sword, the darkness followed my blade and body causing devastation as I slashed and pounded on the door with my fist and the sword. I screamed in anger for the door didn’t seem to be phased by my efforts. Enraged even further I began putting all of my strength and all of my will into destroying this door. I need out of this hateful, spiteful place. After what seemed like an eternity of hacking, slicing and pounding away at the door, the strength of the sword, my anger and the shadows shattered the entrance to my tomb like it was made of paper. The shadows dispersed as the light fought its way through the dust and into my tomb. I put the sword back into its right full place and lashed it to my belt; I was now certain it was mine. I grabbed the trench coat off of the chair and threw it over my shoulder and proceeded to exit my tomb once and for all.

The sun light was warm and embracing, the cool summer breeze was refreshing and the calm outside was familiar and inviting. It was better that I had ever dreamed. I walked out into the courtyard of my tomb. I decided to take one last look at my sorrowful prison before I left. The crows that circled my tomb all gathered around me and landed, on even perched on my shoulder. The one on my shoulder had eyes that were white like mine. I could see a warm inviting look from my friend, the crow. A look that said “welcome back”. It was like I had been gone for a long time and finally after years of wandering I had found my way back.

I watched my tomb for a moment; it swayed and creaked as the wind blew against it. After a moment it finally collapsed and crumbled to the ground. It was almost like I was the only thing keeping it alive and standing; after I left it no longer had a purpose. Now it was my turn to find a purpose, with the trench coat in hand I started off into the forest, the crows followed me. The white eyed crow stayed on my shoulder as I walked through the forest, a bit lazy it seemed. "White eyes" was the name I decided to give the crow upon my shoulder, naming him after his white eyes wasn’t so creative but it seemed to suit him just fine. He was larger than all the other crows so he was easy to spot. He was almost unnaturally large for a crow but white eyes was good company and he didn’t weigh much despite being so large.

The forest surrounding my former tomb is vast and thick. It’s almost like a maze, I’ll keep on the path cause I feel like it’s the right way to go and it’s been a straight shot so far, no turns or forks to throw my path. The light is warm on my skin and feels amazing. All I have ever known was the draft of my tomb, to feel this warm breeze is like heaven. The air smells of flowers and spring water, the river running beside me not to far off the path is calming. I would go to it and drink of it but I know I have to keep walking, I must find the owner of the trench coat I carry in hand. I look around at the forest, there isn’t much wildlife. I turn to white eyes and look at him.
“Not much alive in this forest, huh, white eyes?”
I find it easy to talk to white eyes even though I know he can’t speak. White eyes caws back at me as though he is trying to reply whenever I say something to him, he seems to be a caring friend, the only kind I need. The other crows continue to follow me, a very large murder of crows indeed. I think that they only circled my tomb because I was residing in it. I’m glad they are following though; they keep me and white eyes company. The forest end is drawing near; I see it off in the distance. It’s a good thing too for the dark is starting to set in, the murder of crows following me has settled into the trees at the end of the forest for the night. White eyes remains upon my shoulder, staying at my side. White eyes is a good friend. I walk out of the forest on to a road made of something I’ve never seen before; perhaps I have been lost from the world for longer than I though. The road is hard and is not the end of the vast forest; it seems to run right through it. As I look down the road I try to act to frightened by the sudden horn blaring behind me, I turn to find a strange metal thing with four wheels is making the loud noise.

The man inside the metal contraption opens his door and yells to me.

“Hey, you lost or broke down?”

I put my hand in front of my face to block the bright lights shining in my eyes that come from the front of the contraption and then I step to the side.

“I’m lost, sir.”

The man exited the metal thing and approached me.

“Do you need a ride into the city?”

I had no clue what a city was but I needed to get somewhere and the man was offering.

“Yes, will the metal contraption take us to the city?”

The man scratched his head and pointed to the metal thing.

“You mean my truck? Yeah, she’ll take us there. Hop in.”

The man entered the truck, as he so called it, and I did the same. The truck rattled as something under the front end roared and started, the man could tell I was worried about the noise and patted me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, boy. It’s just the engine.”

I again had no clue what the man was talking about as the truck began to move down the road at a surprisingly fast rate. The man glanced over at me a few times and finally asked.

“That’s a big crow. How long have you had it?”

I stroked white eyes’ feathers and patted his head.

“For as long as I can remember.”

The man laughed slightly and kept looking into the mirror attached to the door of his truck. He had a worried look on his face; he spoke with a worry in his voice.

“Did you know there’s a flock of crows following us?”

“A Murder.”

“Huh?”

“When there is a gathering or flight of crows it’s called a murder, and they are following me, not us.”

The man shook his head and continued the truck down the road as the crows followed. We entered the city as the night was at its darkest. The man took me a ways into the city then dropped me off. Everything was large in the city, the structures were massive, there were lights everywhere and I had no idea where to begin my search. I walked until I found an alley, I ventured down it, and there was an old chair on the other side of a large metal crate. I sat down in it and waited for morning so I could continue my search for the owner of the trench coat. I was awoken suddenly by the sound of horns much like the one in the man truck the previous night. I walked out of the alley to find many trucks passing by very quickly in both directions. They were all different colors, shapes and sizes. The sidewalks were covered with people going in all directions. Most of them were talking into little handheld boxes. I wandered up the sidewalk further into the city. I looked at all the faces around me; none of them looked familiar in any way. People stared at me, they pointed and I could hear them talking about me. My crows all resided at the tops of the massive structures that made this city, they cawed as the people spoke ill of me. I knew none of them and yet they talked about me like an enemy.

I kept walking until I found a group of small tables, there was something familiar about this place but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I sat down on a bench and waited to see a face that I knew and recognized, none passed by. I waited as the day drug on; it was almost like being back in my tomb except there were more people than I could count. The feeling of loneliness was still there and it felt just like it felt when I was alone in my tomb. I got to thinking that maybe I was wrong to leave my tomb, the world had become confusing and strange and I didn’t know anyone or anything that was going on. I knew that I had to though; leaving my tomb was the only way I could feel like I had a purpose. I don’t know what I will do if I find the owner of the trench coat, I will no longer have a purpose if I do. Part of me hopes I won’t find who it belongs to. Part of me hopes I never find them so I will always be searching, for if I am always searching then I will always have a purpose. So here I will wait, until I see a familiar face, one that I recognize and that recognizes me as well. Crows follow me.

CHAPTER TWO
GUARDIAN
I sit, watching, waiting. None of them know I am here, none of them ever will. My purpose is clear and simple to explain, I am a guardian. I am a watchful eye, a protector. There are things unseen by their eyes that threaten their whole beings, but I protect them so that they may live in their blissful ignorance without fear of the dark that threatens them so. Such simple and frail lives. They are easily swayed, easily corrupted and easily manipulated. I offer a voice of reason, a gentle whisper on the wind. I offer them a chance to turn away from offers of evil intention, a chance to choose the opposite of an evil choice. There is good in everyone, though sometimes I do not believe so. I saw a man abuse his daughter in a drunken rage. We aren’t supposed to physically intervene in their lives or reveal ourselves. Such a small fragile girl, only 7 years old. Her mother had died at child birth and so the father began drinking to cope, he had never abused her until now. He always chose the better path, but I guess a man can only take so much before he breaks, I just wish that his little girl hadn’t been the vent for his rage and anger. I could do nothing but give the child dreams of grace and happiness and take away the pain so she wouldn’t suffer. When the father sobered up he felt terrible and wretched for his actions, the bruises were massive, her face was blackened and bloodied. He rushed his daughter to the hospital, it appeared he had learned a lesson that opened his eyes, and he had promised his little girl she would never be hurt by his hand ever again. Everything seemed to be okay in the end, until he handed the little girl over to the nurses. As the little girl was rolled away into intensive care her father whispered goodbye and that he was sorry he’d hurt her so badly, then he drew a gun from his belt. Everyone in the waiting room screamed in panic as he put the gun to his head and took his own life. Perhaps it was for the better, the little girl would be put in an orphanage but she would never again be hurt by her father’s hand, as he promised. Humans are strange.

As the car lights pass I sit waiting for the day to end and the night to come. The beings of this world move on without care, most living a life of good intention to the best of their ability. Everyone has bad times; mine are increasing as the days pass on into eternity. I saw a man kill another man with no reason behind his actions what so ever. In cold blood, he killed him; he snuffed out an innocent life simply because he had a gun and had been having a bad day. The man he shot lay suffering on the ground, I took his pain away, it was all I could do. I could’ve saved his life but we are not allowed to intervene physically or reveal ourselves. All I can ever do is the very slightest of kind gestures for the innocent victims. The man who had murdered didn’t even take any of the dying mans possessions; he killed him for no reason, not even one of evil intention. He left a wife widowed and two small children fatherless. He didn’t even care, it was just an ordinary thing for this being, it seemed he had ended many innocent lives simply because he was mad or having a bad day. A wretched a vile being, he will get his punishment in the end. A far greater punishment than any on earth.

I watch, waiting, whispering words in the ears of those who need an option of good intent and outcome. I see the others that cannot be seen just like me. They are monsters, creatures, demons. They influence the bad sides of people. I wish I could strike them down for their wickedness but I am forbidden to do so. None of my kind may take action with an act of war or violence against a demon and demons cannot take action with an act of war or violence against my kind. We are only allowed to influence the beings of Earth. It is up to the people to decide whether or not they act with intentions of evil or intentions of good. I find that fewer and fewer are choosing to act on the behalf of good anymore. It seems a dark era is rising and I am bound by rules that prevent me from saving the good in humanity. If I break any rules then I will fall and become Earth bound, I will be forever banished to the world I watch over now.

I have known many of my kind that have fallen, they broke one of our greatest rules; never reveal yourself. They fell, the world was unkind to them for people are more wicked than they seem and the good ones are few and far between. I will never fall, our rules are my guide, though I wish I could help the poor innocent souls I watch over when they need me, I will not. I will only give them my graces, I will only help from where I cannot be seen, and I will remain only a voice and nothing more. I watch as people walk past, stare and point at a strange man sitting on a bench in the city. He waits, I do not know for what. I feel he is not human, or at least not completely. He carries a sword and a trench coat, he is dressed in black and chain and the large white eyed crown upon his shoulder is drawing much attention. I have never seen him before in all my long years of watching over the city. It’s like he just appeared out of nowhere. He seems harmless and innocent though, there isn’t a single ounce of evil near or inside of him. I wish I could divert the non accepting eyes of all the people passing him by so he could wait for whatever he is waiting for in peace. The innocent are often misjudged, this being especially and probably because of the way he is dressed and no other reason. People can be cruel to those who have done nothing simply because they are different, a sad but true fact of this world.

I watch him more than most now, he sits and waits. I wish I knew what he was waiting for because he waits no matter what. Rain, hail or sun shine he just sits on that bench and waits. He is surrounded by people but he is alone, a sad existence but he seems content with it. His crow doesn’t leave his side either, nor does the massive murder of crows that keep watch on him from a top the buildings. I have never seen so many crows in all my long years. He seems to know they are there on top of the buildings though, almost like they followed him from where ever he came from.

Days pass, he remains. He waits, almost as if on nothing. I don't know why he intrigues me so, nor why I have chosen to watch him for so long, but I watch him yet. I feel as though maybe he is in need of help, perhaps it is jus my imagination getting the better of me but for all my gifts I still cannot see anything more of this man dressed in black and chain other than his crow and outward appearance. I feel as though the man on the bench may be shaded from my eyes, is he as I am or is he my opposite? I try not to think ill of him for he shows no signs of hatred or evil intention, he just sits and waits, nothing more.

I don’t pay the strange man attention any more; I watch the city and all the people whom I guard. Sometimes I think they need protection from themselves though.
I saw a man beat his wife; he struck her again and again as he yelled. Their two children hid in fear as he beat her ruthlessly. I could do nothing but ease her pain and watch as he ravaged her body with his fist. I thought he was going to kill her but upon breaking her right forearm he stopped. He drug her to the car, put her in the passenger’s seat and drove her to the hospital. It was the same hospital the little girl’s father had shot himself in; this only brought me bad feelings and thoughts. The nurses rushed the badly beaten and broken wife away. After the doctor worked on her he questioned the husband. The husband lied through his teeth saying that someone broke into their home and beat his wife. He acted so concerned even though he was the cause of her horrid state. When the wife awoke I hoped they would simply ask her “what happened?” Being vague to her husband’s lie to see if she would give a different story but the question the asked was

“Ma’am, your husband said someone broke into your house and did this to you, is that true?”

To which the frightened wife replied out of fear of her husband
“Y-yes, I didn’t get a good look at him though.”

The doctors and nurses ate the lies like they were candy as the husband continued with a story of how he arrived just in time to scare off the perpetrator and how he never thought in a million years that something this bad would happen to his family. Such a worthless excuse of a man. The moment the wife was able to walk again her husband took her home and two weeks later proceeded to beat her again. The wife wouldn’t be a victim this time though, she had prepared. After she had gotten home from the hospital two weeks earlier, she got her husbands twelve gauge shotgun and hid it under the sink, loaded. The moment he closed his fists and began to strike her it was the end of his life. She pushed her abusive husband away and ran for the kitchen. She pulled the shotgun out from under the sink. She missed the first couple of shots; the slugs from the shotgun tore through the house walls like paper. The husband stumbled and tried to get behind something when he was stopped by a shotgun barrel pressed against his head. He glanced over at his wife and before he could beg for his life she pulled the trigger. The final shot echoed down the street. When she went to find her two children she couldn’t stop screaming at what she hand found of them. The first few shots she had fired that missed had torn through the walls of her home and struck her children, ending their innocent lives. She went immediately for the shotgun as the police sirens drew near, she put the barrel in her mouth and as she cried pulled the trigger but the shotgun was empty. She cried, shotgun in hand as the police stormed into the home and arrested her for the murder of her family. I had given her many choices, many opportunities to get away and take her children to a place where she could be safe but I guess it was harder to resist the evil of killing her husband when she thought about what he had done. Perhaps the world is just more evil now than it used to be. Innocent lives lost in the crossfire of a choice as simple as good or evil. No child should ever suffer a fate such as that. I didn’t let the children feel it but if it wasn’t for the rules then I could have done so much more and prevented the whole thing from happening and innocent lives could have been spared. An unnecessary loss could have been avoided.

I see many situations that people could avoid just but taking the better path and making a better choice. I offer my influence but it seems more people are wicked at heart rather than good and the innocent suffer for it. Insanity builds and eventually blocks all rational thought, which leads to tragedy and the suffering of the innocent. Though I am a guardian I do not feel like one most of the time, I am not allowed to physically intervene or reveal myself so how can I guard the innocent that I watch over? Perhaps I guard them from pain, for in their suffering in their darkest moments I offer them grace and take the pain from their bodies. It seems more fitting, it seems it fits what I do quite well and if that is the guardian I am to be then I shall be so for as long as I am...or as long as I can stand.

Humans are so fragile and frail. Their very being is threatened every day they wake into their world. They build and create many harmful and deadly things, then they use them for ubscene purposes. They spend resource after resource researching instruments of pain and death, building weapons like they are toys until its time to move on to the next resource. If not for the few good people I watch over in this world then I would be completely repulsed by it and would have no reason to dwell here in this Godless land of cutthroats and theives.

I watch as a young girl walks home from a friends house. She leaves her friend, saying goodbye with a hug and waving to her friends mother. The young gril only lives four blocks away, a journey that is makeable by foot. It's growing dark, my eyes don't leave her as she comes to one side of a main street. She is short, thin and fragile. Her medium length red hair flutters in the slight breeze. She's wearing a skirt that comes down just below her knees and a sweater that matches. Her backpack is slung over one of her shoulders, probably like most kids she knows carry their backpacks. This young girl is a girl I have been watching since she was born, she doesn't know what pain is and she has been happy all her life, aside from a few groundings from her parents. The young girl is just barely 15, not quite a woman yet, but well on her way. I watch as she makes her way down the main road, only a short distance from her home and safety now, though it has grown very dark, very fast. I sigh with relief that she is going to make it but I cut myself off and horrid feelings overcome my entire being as four large men overtake the young girl and force her into a dark alley. My fists tighten as they shove her around, fondling her, the wretched beasts! I have watched this girl for 15 years, her name is Alyssa, she knows no pain and these beasts intend to inflict it on her! I cannot intervene, I cannot break the rules, though Alyssa's cries, tears and fear beg me to. I must remain unseens, it's the rules, I will grant her the bliss I always grant. I will give her my grace and take the pain. The monsterous men batter Alyssa like a rag doll. Her face is bruised, bloodied and swollen, her body is in a similar state. I can barely keep my eyes open. One of the men does away with Alyssa'a skirt and sweater, ripping them off and stripping her down to her underwear. I can't watch... everything is getting brighter, anger is building inside of me to the point of blinding... I black out.

My vision comes back, screams of agony fade in as well as the sight of one of the wretched men scrambling to get away. I look to my feet, concerned with the wetness that I feel, it's pools of blood. Three of the four men lie motionless, broken and dead. They were so mangled that it almost seemed like they were fed through a meat grinder r hit by a train. What am I holding? Alyssa... I cradle her in my arms gently, my light soothes and comforts her. her swollen eyes can't open enough to see me, she breaths steadily and she is safe now. I may fall for what I know I have done, but I couldn't let another innocent be hurt, especially if it was Alyssa. I walk her to her house, wrap her in my cloake, rest her upon the bench on her front porch, I ring the doorbell and then I take flight and vanish into the night. With the last of my grace and light I engrave a clear image of the man that got away so that Alyssa can deliver her own vengeance.

For the first time in all my years I feel as though I lived up to my title of guardian, though it has cost me more than I could ever get back. I set down in an alley in the city, I conceal my wings and then, just as I knew it would, my light fades from me. I don't hear the world anymore, though I still retain a few of my graces and abilities, most of them have gone. I stumble upon some old clothes, a worn out pair of shoes, some ragged jeans and a ragged thermal shirt. They will do. I wander into the sleeping city, I have no regret for what I did, Alyssa is safe for this night and still pure, sweet and innocent. Perhaps I will see her again one day, though I imagine that won't be for a long time, but time is all I've got now... for I have fallen from his grace.

I see a familiar face, two infact. The man dressed in black and chain and his crow. I walk over to the bench and sit opposite to the man and his crow. I think I will wait with him, for whatever he may be waiting for. Maybe he is waiting for his purpose, I suppose I need to do that as well now. The night is drawing to an end, I'm not tired, I'm never tired and the man, as well as his crow, don't seem to be tired either and so we wait.