Just a quick note, Michael is a biblical archangel.
Pure. Everything must be pure, everything, no exceptions. Yes, that's right. That was what they always told me, what Michael always told me. Angels had to be pure, no exceptions, none at all. I am pure as is he. Why must we cater to such dirty things? Why must we protect them from the demons they so willingly summon? Why do we have to help those deviants when the moment after we do, they turn their backs on us? We get nothing in return. Michael says it is because we are pure, but what does purity have to do with repayment? What does it have to do with retribution? Those humans do not repay us. They are impure. They do not deserve our assistance. They, like us, should be pure before we consider intervening for them.
When I voice my opinions, I get shot down, reprimanded, scolded and hit. "Is you violence pure Michael?" I ask Michael with very un-angelic sarcasm dripping from my voice. "This pain is holy." He responds as he lashes out with the whip. Again and again he hits me. Again and again I scream. I cannot move because I am hanging from the wall on wooden pikes. Isn't heaven just wonderful? For the humans maybe. They never see this, the punishment for an angel speaking her mind. "This blood is atonement for your sins Angela." He murmurs as he continues to strike.
"What have I done wrong? I am pure! I am!" I cry out, but to no avail. "You shouldn't have those thoughts about the humans. They have weaknesses, but they are our masters. We serve them." The archangel replies to me harshly. He really isn't as kind as humans think he is. "I don't want to serve them." I admit quietly, barely feeling the harsh lashes he is giving. By now, my dress is already ruined. Most of it lies on the floor in tatters. My hands ache from the pikes stabbing through my palms and my torso stings from the many gashes.
This isn't the heaven humans think of. This is the heaven they deserve, the punishment, the pain, but it isn't the one they get. Those dirty rats get the paradise. "I hate them Michael." I say with a mocking, almost coy smile as I tilt my head. "I hate every last one of them because they are dirty, filthy vermin that aren't fit to lick the scum from a pure angel's shoe!" I yell this amidst bouts of laughter and my body shakes from the hysterical sobs and giggles that ripple through it. "The unclean. The defiled. The dirty thing. Be destroyed. Be purified. This pain is blessed by the god! Blood is the offering to atone the sin!" He bellows as his strikes with the whip get harder and more frequent.
I laugh again despite the pain. The blood that falls from my open wounds pools on the otherwise white floor and stains the tile. Oh how I will remember those hated words! I will use them in the future. Of this I am sure. I will say this to the humans that I clean. They need to be cleaned. They must be as pure as I am! "You're like a demon Angela, a slave to your own will, your own desires." That is it! That comment is the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. "If I am, than I must be perfect don't you think? The perfect balance of black and white, of good and evil, of birth and destruction, of sin and virtue?" I question him quietly with yet another sarcastic, cold smile.
White encompasses me and a bright light surges as I spread my wings. For a few moments, I even go blind and see nothing but white as my eyes harden to a solid silver. I can feel the pikes splinter in my hands and I feel the hard landing when I fall from the wall, but I don't care, no not all. "What do you think Michael? Hmmm?" I ask wickedly as I crush his skull. I am aware of what I am doing, but still, I cannot see. Once the white fades from my eyes, my sight slowly comes back. That is the price I pay for my power. "Oh! How the mighty have fallen!" I exclaim loudly as I bend over and pick up his holy whip. This is something that I decide to keep.
"Unclean! Defiled! Dirty! Be destroyed Michael! You were not pure enough. You were never pure enough! This blood is atonement for your sins!" I cackle as I viciously smack the whip against his already dead body. This feels wonderful! Fantastic, really. Finally, I am doing something about the impurity! Finally, I can cleanse the world beginning with archangel himself.
I can feel it. I am falling again. Before I plummet from the skies, I crouch down and plant a taboo, coldly sarcastic kiss on his cooling body's lips. No, he will never forget me. It was not a demon that killed the famed Michael. It was I: Angela Blair, the only angel pure enough to refuse to stoop down and lick the filthy boots of humanity. Yes, I am bloody and yes, I am bruised but no, I am not dirty. I am not defiled or worthless. I am very, very pure and humanity will soon see just how far I am willing to go to make them the same as I.
As I fall downward through the inky black heavens, I notice a child with blueish hair laughing with his parents. I know who they are because I recognize the boy's father. Oh, I know the fate of that child because I know of his father. He is a dirty man, a dog if I ever saw one. He does the dirty work and he must pay for getting involved with such scum. I won't use my whip on him, no. Now is not the time. A holy fire is what they need. Their pain will atone for their sins and that child will die before he can become impure like his damned father.
