End of an Angel

A splinter of icy light, breaking through the darkness, cracking it and splitting it open. Shards of dull grey, some dimmer, some brighter, confused; the shattered remains of a hazy consciousness. A moment of piercing clarity, but shaded, shrouded in dust.

The carnage of a mind, with a feeling, a thought – one thought. Escape.

There was a shock, as though she had been dropped into freezing water, and then an emptiness as though she had begun to drown, and realised there was no one there to save her. There was a sinking, deep inside, and a dizziness, her lungs filling up with liquid. The feelings were immense, new, forgotten. And then, there was reality.

Tranquillity. Serenity.
Never a smile. Never a frown.
Just peace and grace and purity.
Her mind shook, and no longer could she take it, heavy upon her uncomprehending heart.

She was filled with a sudden hatred. A pure, real hatred, that she could neither control nor understand, and that scared her. She gagged on it as it ate away at her mind. The spell had been lifted, and for the first time, the truth lay before her, its bitter taste stinging her mouth. It was horrible, and it hurt.

They’d taken her so young. Too young to leave her with a chance. She was defenceless, and they had ruined her; stealing her innocence in surgery, poisoning the child that hid inside with drugs. And as they’d stared at their creation, whispering and murmuring of its beauty, their cold eyes had gleamed horrifically, thoughts of the promised glory which would shine into their dark, painful lives flooding their minds. Then, they attempted a smile, simultaneously trying and failing to convey warmth. For whose benefit? They didn’t know. The waters of truth and justice had been murkied in their minds long before.

For years, the drugs had clouded and masked and smothered, but now… Now the helpless unknown of tears began, and now, they poured.

Her wings… They were a beast on her back. Clinging on and never letting go. She could feel its talons wrapping around her spine and her shoulder blades, coiling into her until the boundaries fell away, becoming lost. The beast merged into her so deep she stopped being able to tell where she ended and it began.

This was the monster they had created, fading each into the other until she and it were one and the same.

She knew herself as nothing but Project A. She was lost, and scared. But somehow, through the tears, through the hatred, and through the desperate confusion, she was clear of one thing.

She would be their angel no more.

***

With a feeling in her stomach that was at once painfully empty and overly full, Project A rose to her feet. Unsteady, hesitant footsteps took her across the scabby linoleum floor, which she felt would fall from beneath her feet upon every movement. The door, she pushed, and it swung open. She tiptoed clumsily down the dim corridor it revealed, and opened another door.

The next room was bright – harsh, abrasive light from a window hitting her and making her cringe. It shone all around her, startling, every surface reflecting it back, so that she appeared to be floating amidst a daze of incredible whiteness. Then, her eyes focused and everywhere, now, she saw her lifeless tormentors, that she recognised not by name but by the pain they caused; there, the metal clamps that bound her to the table, that dug into her flesh and made her bleed; there, the needles that she was punished by daily, plaguing her body with yet more substances; here, the pills that they rammed down her throat, making her feel like her mind was burning; and finally, the knifes, shining, sharp, worst of all, that they sliced into her with, causing her to scream and writhe and for the needles to return again… Her heart seemed to grow in her chest and thump, faster and faster, wilder and wilder until her whole body shook upon every beat.