The Lonely Angel and his Guardian Monster
Chapter 1: Have You Seen my Childhood?
When Bill was four, he wondered why his parents never acted sweet and loving like he has seen other parents do. He didn't receive a lot of hugs him or kisses from his mother. His father didn't talk or pay attention to him much and when he did, his gaze was far from warm or affectionate. The most he remembers is, "Stop bothering your daddy Bill." Or "Stop your sniveling, you're not a girl!"
He learned not to cry a lot or talk too loudly because it bother his dad, especially when they got into a car accident and due to the crash, it ended up with him stuttering a lot of his words.
He learned not to be messy, not to be rude, and not to touch what's not yours; he learned that the hard way. A year ago, out of curiosity, he picked up his dad's beeper to look at it. His dad smacked his hand so hard that his knuckles and the middle of his hand turned bluish black and it left him in tears and even unable to curl his fingers into a fist. He got sent to the corner for crying dramatically.
The only thing that always made him happy was his Grandma Willow who always seemed happy to see him. She would always call him her little "Will" and tell him that he's going to be as big as a willow tree with the way he kept on growing.
She never complain when he asked for hugs and kisses and whenever she had a good day, as in that her back didn't bother her and her hands wouldn't shake, she would pick him up and place him on her hip, tickling his chin and neck. Her blue eyes, which he has been told a lot of times that his eyes are the same as hers; big, warm, and bright, would twinkle and stare at him like he has hung the moon.
Grandma Willow was his favorite person in the world.
And he could tell that the feeling was mutual.
Bill was six when he first saw his dad drunk, stumbling inside and crashing on top of the sofa. Bill at that time was coloring in his coloring book, having another hour before he would go to sleep.
Bill was curious and slightly afraid as to why his father came home the way he did. Cautiously, he stood up from the floor and silently walked towards his dad's prone body.
"D-dad, are y-y-you okay?" his dad didn't like being called daddy; it made him sound like a girl he's been told.
All he received was a grunt and then his father moved. Sluggishly, he tried to sit up, only to crash back to the couch. Bill, who likes to help, tried to help him sit up so that he would stop hitting his head against the arm's rest. But the moment he put his hands on his father's arm, he was roughly pushed away.
"Don't touch me." He slurs but Bill understood enough. Hurt, he backs away and goes back to the table and tries to go back to coloring. By the corner of his eyes, he sees that his father finally sat up and went to stand up. Once on his feet, he dragged himself away from the living room and up the stairs.
"Sharon!" he bellowed. "Come be useful and help me up the stairs!"
While he couldn't see, he can imagine his mother's tired look as she breathed, "Zack, keep your voice down."
"I'm tired of this shit Sharon!" he continued as though his mother never responded, "I told you, I fucking told you we weren't ready for this commitment! Why didn't you listen to me?"
"Zack…"
"I told you to get an abortion but you refused to!"
Bill wondered what an abortion was.
"And now we have to deal with this…mistake!"
His mother didn't respond to that statement and his father already had made it up the stairs.
Bill knew a lot but there are some things that he didn't understand. But instinctively, he knew that those statements were about him and something inside him told him to cry. And so he did.
Confused and hurt for reasons he did not understand he wiped away his tears and walk towards the phone, his instincts telling him to call his grandma. Besides, she'll know what to say and do.
As he dialed the number he already has memorized, he waited. On the third ring he heard his grandma's gentle yet strong voice on the line. But oddly enough, there was an odd pitch in her tone and that worried him.
"G-grandma?"
"Yes Will baby?"
"Are y-y-you okay?"
"Grandma is fine sweetie. It's just I feel tired and my chest hurts."
"Then s-s-s-shouldn't you b-be in b-b-bed?"
"I am sweetie." He could hear the affection in her tone even as tired as she sounded.
"I c-can let you s-s-sleep if y-you want?"
"I know you William and I know you dislike calling me late and only do that when something really bothers you. Tell your Grandma what's the matter."
Bill hesitated, hating to be bothering his grandma when she wasn't feeling all that well but curiosity overpowered his courteous nature.
"G-grandma, wuh-what's an a-abortion?"
Bill could hear his grandma breathed in sharply and that worried him a little.
"Willi—"
He carried on before he lost his nerve, "A-a-a-and what's a m-m-mistake?"
"William," the tone was sharp yet he could hear the worry in her voice, "Where did you hear that?"
Nervously, he nibbled on his bottom lip, "F-from my d-d-dad."
His grandmother was silent. Bill played with the telephone cord anxiously, his blue eyes roaming around the room.
"Paid no mind to your father William, you shouldn't worry about the things that your father says. And always remember that you are loved. That I love you." And then he could hear the smile in her voice, "How about I tell you the tale of "The Story of the Boy Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was"?"
Bill, excited, let out a pleased hum and went to lie down on the couch, listening intently to his grandma's tale.
Around the middle of the story, he fell asleep to his grandma's voice.
She passed away last night in her sleep, the words of the fairy tale that she was telling the last thing he heard from her.
He wept.
(Years later, he figured out that the mistake was him.)
A month later, after his grandma passed away, he noticed that his parents seem to be…excited? Bill was confused as to why they seem so happy.
"Mom, wuh-why are y-you happy?"
His mother turned to him with giddy eyes, "I received some good news Bill."
"G-good news?"
She nodded happily, "You're going to be a brother Bill!"
Surprised, he could only repeat, "Buh-brother?"
"She's going to have a baby you stupid child." His father grunt but his words were less harsh than usual.
He knew that but he was honestly shocked.
He was going to be a big brother…
The day that his brother was born, Bill was pleasantly surprised to find himself happy to meet his baby brother. His baby brother was so tiny, pink, and helpless and yet shockingly strong as he held on to his thin finger. He noticed that the cold quality in his mom's voice was warmer and sounded almost loving as she introduced his brother, Georgie, to him. Even his dad seemed proud and affectionate.
But he wasn't stupid. He knew that they were only like this because of his baby brother.
But he can't complain. Maybe they'll be nicer to him now. Maybe…
Georgie said his first word. But his first word wasn't mama, dada, or even milk. His first word was "Bill"; his name. He almost cried in happiness at that even if his parents were grumbling and annoyed as he hugged his baby brother closed to him.
His little brother loves him and although he wishes that his parents love him as much as they love Georgie, he can take what he receives.
Georgie is getting older now, he's about five, but Georgie didn't seem to be inclined to leave Bill's side. And while most find it odd since most siblings either fight or ignore each other, Bill loves Georgie with all his heart and he felt so loved when his brother would always look for him; in the morning when he wakes up, the moment they return home and Georgie quickly runs up to Bill's room to hang out with him, and to give him a hug and a soft good night before leaving to his room.
His parents complain that Georgie is too dependent on his brother but Bill doesn't mind. He loves talking to Georgie, who never gets frustrated with him when he stutters a lot, especially when he has a bad day and he doesn't mind teaching him stuff that his teachers, the kind ones at least, taught him or he taught himself since his parents never had time for him, unless it was Georgie.
But he understands. If Georgie asks, he would give him the moon if he could…
His world got turned upside down.
Bill lies on his bed, sweating up a storm and tossing and turning, the fever driving him insane.
A soft and barely audible knock resound in his room.
"Cuh-come in." he whispers, his voice low and his throat aching. When the door opens, a small head peaks in.
"Hi Billy." Georgie says softly, walking quietly inside.
Bill couldn't help but smile, "Hi G-Georgie. Don't g-g-get too close. You'll g-get s-s-sick."
"It's okay Billy, you were there for me when I was feeling bad. I don't mind being next to you." Georgie reassures with a wide grin.
"S-still, I don't wuh-want to m-make you s-s-sick again."
"Don't worry, I'll be fine! Is there anything I can do for you?"
Bill thinks for a moment, "Is there more chicken soup?"
Georgie's face drops and he shakes his head, "Mom made me the last can. I'm sorry Billy."
"It's a-alright Georgie. W-where's mom and d-dad?"
"Dad is still working and mom went to our neighbor's house."
Bill closes his eyes at the slight pain he felt when he heard that. Of course…
"But I can go to the corner store and buy a can for you!"
"It's alright Georgie; I c-c-can wait till m-mom or d-d-dad come back h-home."
"I can handle it Billy! Mom and dad are already letting me go to the store by myself and I can cook the soup by putting it in the microwave!" Georgie says excitedly, his eyes big and eager to help.
"I-I-I don't know."
"Please~" Georgie pouts, his eyes widening. Bill shakes his head; it annoys him how he can still fall for Georgie's puppy dog eyes.
"Fuh-fine but t-t-tell mom or dad fuh-first before y-you do that."
"Okay Billy!" was the bright reply and before he could even blink, he little brother runs out of the room. Bill stares at the empty spot next to his bed, a feeling of dread curling around his heart. Leaning back into his pillow, he closes his eyes, trying to push back the sensation of fear and uncertainty.
He was almost asleep when Georgie comes back into the room.
"Billy, mom said it was okay. I'll see you soon."
Forcing his eyes open and sitting up slightly, he calls out, "Georgie wait!"
Georgie appears at the open door, curious and confused as he plays with the sleeve of his yellow jacket.
"Yes Billy?"
"C-can't you g-give your bru-brother a hug?" he inquires with a small smile.
Without being told twice, Georgie bounds back into the room and happily wraps his arms around his older brother's neck. Bill hugs him back, his body aching and bone tired but pressing his little brother's warm body to his. After a moment or two, he pulls back from the hug.
Georgie grins, "I love you Billy."
"Y-yeah, back at you." Bill responds before ruffling the boy's hair. Swatting playfully at the hand, Georgie waves goodbye.
"Be c-careful." He adds as an afterthought. Georgie blinks in surprise before nodding with a smile and walking out of the room.
Bill stares at the open door, his head pounding and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
He'll go asleep when Georgie comes back. It'll be quick after all; the store is at the corner of the street.
He'll wait…
Georgie never came home…
Georgie was found a few weeks later, discarded a few towns away, looking like an abandon doll with hand shaped bruises on his neck, eyes forever close in a seemingly peaceful slumber.
Strangled; his baby brother, his Georgie was strangled and then thrown away like trash. Like nothing.
He's gone. He's not here; he's dead! And it was his entire fault!
He should have said no. He should have persisted that he was fine, even if he did felt lightheaded and his stomach kept on cramping, he was completely fine and willing to wait for their parents. He should have just told him to hang out with him until their parents come. He should have—
But he didn't and Georgie paid for his mistake.
It's all his fault, his entire fault. He got his brother killed and he's the one who broke their family apart. He broke their parents' charade of being affectionate towards him. He broke his parents beyond belief.
It's all his fault and his father doesn't get tired of reminding him, just like his mother never does anything to defend him when the accusing and cruel words leave him in tears. But that's alright…
He deserves it for being an awful brother.
It's been a year now since Georgie's disappearance and death. He can still remember that pain and sorrow like it happened yesterday. Today is the "anniversary", which unfortunately put his dad in horrid mood, worse than usual, and his mother hasn't left the bed when he woke up.
He turned fourteen yesterday and in three months, Georgie would have been eight if he were still alive. He celebrated his birthday alone and hungry since neither of his parents haven't gone out for grocery shopping.
Today was a difficult day and it wasn't just because today is the anniversary.
"Hey B-B-Billy Boy, what's with the long face?" an older boy by the name of Henry, although everyone calls him Bowers, jeered from the steps of the school.
Bill refuses to acknowledge him and continue walking down the steps, for once eager to go home and disappear into his room.
"Hey, I'm talking to you freak!"
Bill looks around him, trying to decide the best course of action as he started to walk a little faster. He started tensing up when he heard more than one person following him.
Bill doesn't like to think himself of a coward but he wasn't stupid enough to believe that he could take on Bowers and his gang of merry, vicious idiots. So there was only one thing to do.
He runs.
He hears the shout of surprise and delight as they took chase. Not looking back he looks around, trying to see if he could find a good hiding spot. Without thinking about it, he makes a sharp turn towards the left, jumping over a box that got in his way and then took another turn to his right. He didn't hear footsteps behind him but he didn't risk it and continued running.
As he wonders whether or not he can reach his house since he finds no good place to hide, something caught his eye. When he looks, he sees an antique shop, looking new and clean despite its rather dull appearances.
Looking behind him for a quick minute and seeing that there was no one behind him, Bill enters the antique shop, opening and closing the door gently behind him as to make no noise.
Taking the time to lean against a wall and try to catch his breath, he looks around. The inside of the store was surprisingly neat and nothing was thrown about or cluttered like he had seen in other antique stores. There was no dust and while there was an odd smell, he can guarantee that the scent came out from really old artifacts and thought nothing of it. The lights were a bit dimmed, probably to give it a cozy feeling but the atmosphere of the store was stiff, almost suffocating.
Finally able to breathe normally, Bill cautiously walks around the store, making sure not to let his book bag bump into anything. He wonders if they sell spare parts for his bike, especially since his back was kind of an old model.
"Is there something you're looking for?"
Bill swallowed the gasp and turns quickly to where he heard the voice.
Standing behind the counter was a tall pale woman, a door behind her open and showing stacks and cases against the wall. Huh, that must have been the reason he didn't see her before.
The woman is lovely with brown hair that fell in waves and dark brown eyes that stare Bill down, her red lips in a slight frown. But despite her good looks, there was something about her that put Bill on edge.
"I w-was wondering i-if you have s-s-spare bicycle p-parts?"
The woman was so oddly still that Bill question himself whether or not she was even breathing before shaking her head.
"I don't sell bicycle parts inside my store."
"O-oh okay, t-thank you anyways." Bill utters with timid shrug and was about to leave and go home before the Bowers Gang made an appearance when he stops, turning his head to look at the clear display case.
Bill couldn't help but stare at the thick and detailed ring inside the black ring box.
The ring is silver with a round, pure black jewel nestled in the middle of the ring, and the ring itself had long "strands" intertwining around the jewel, almost looking like fingers. Like—
Like legs; spider legs. His mind points out helpfully as he continues to stare at it. When Bill finally forces himself to look up, he sees the lady staring at him with those unfathomable brown eyes, hardly blinking before lowering her eyes and pulling out the box with the ring in it from the display case and placing it in front of him.
"Put it on."
Bill stares, "What?"
"Put it on." The woman repeats again, her voice forceful and her eyes narrowing.
Nervously, he grabs the ring gingerly and stares at it. Feeling its weight, he hesitated before slipping it on his ring finger. Bill was surprised and a bit unnerved when the ring fit perfectly in his finger. It should had been impossible with how big it looked when he first laid eyes on it but here it was, a perfect and surprisingly comfortable weight in his finger.
Bill was about to take it off when he heard the simple yet loud, "Leave it, it's yours."
"What? B-b-but I can't! I-I-I don't h-have enough muh-money for this r-r-ring."
"It's a priceless ring, no need to pay for it. You can have it; no one has been able to wear it. It's a…special ring. Not everyone can wear it."
"B-But—"
"Besides, you're doing me a favor." She continues, not letting him get a word in, "No one wants that ring."
"Nuh-not even you?"
She tilts her head and eyes him oddly, her eyes wide and her face solemn, "I can't wear it."
Bill stares at her warily.
"It's getting late now, you should leave. Your parents must be worried about you."
Bill wanted to scoff at that but he conceded and turns away from her, already knowing that he was being dismissed.
As he walks out of the store, cautiously looking around, he remembers the ring still in his finger, and was about to head back in and return the ring when he caught sight of the lady.
She was still in the same place, never moved an inch but she continues to stare at him, her head tilted a bit and her eyes still wide and frozen in the same solemn expression, looking like a mannequin than an actual human being.
Disturbed, he walks off towards the direction of his house, ignoring the sensation of being stared at as he walks further away.
He needs to make a mental note to not go back to that place ever again.
When Bill got home, surprisingly safe and sound, he wasn't shock to see that the first floor was devoid of life. What was astounding though was the fact that his dad wasn't around; he would have thought that he would take the day off, either to get drunk or to take his anger on him. It's kind of sad; his dad didn't drink much but ever since Georgie died—well alcohol became his best friend.
Taking it as a small blessing, Bill walks over to the kitchen to see if he could find something to eat since neither of his parents still haven't done grocery shopping. When he opened the fridge, he was happy to find an apple nearly hidden from sight. Giving it a quick wash, Bill heads up the stairs and into his room, eating his apple as he sits on the bed. It didn't took long to finish the apple, in which he throws the core away and left to room to wash his hands, ignoring that his stomach continue to growl.
Before long, he threw himself into the bed and stare listlessly at his bedroom ceiling. In this room, in this cold house, Bill felt more alone than the time his beloved grandma died.
Blinking away the tears, Bill closes his eyes as he imagines his Grandma Willow and his brother Georgie meeting in heaven. Feeling a smile forming on his face, he continues to imagine the scenario. Before long he falls asleep.
The next time Bill wakes up, the room was pitched black and the moon hung high into the sky, looking bright and full. Rubbing his eyes, Bill stretches and tries to blindly turn on the lamp on his bedside table as he sits on his bed; when he felt the string, he gently tugs it and the room brightens up with the soft, yellow glow of the lamp.
After adjusting to the light, Bill looks forward and almost jumps out of his skin.
At the end of the bed, curl up into a ball was a boy; a boy around his age with his knees drawn up to his chest and he had his arms wrapped around them, his cheek resting against his knees. Big, innocuous brown eyes stare at him. He was rather pale with faint freckles at the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. He has the softest, black curls he has ever seen.
While the boy look soft and innocent, Bill couldn't help but feel wary.
"W-who are y-y-you?!"
The noirette didn't answer, only raising his head and looking around the room with bored eyes.
"This is your room? Talk about unimpressive."
Bill glares and then snaps out, "I a-asked y-you a q-q-question!"
The boy smirks, "Relax big guy, I come in peace."
Bill continues to glare at him.
"If anything, I should be thanking you."
Bill looks taken aback, "T-thanking me?"
The boy continues as though he wasn't interrupted, "And offering my services to you."
"S-s-services?"
"Yup," he drawls the word, "You freed me pretty boy."
"W-what are you tuh-tuh-talking about?"
The boy then smiles at him but there was something weird about the smile; something sharp, something dangerous and his eyes look too dark, almost black when Bill could have sworn that his eyes were a natural, earth brown color.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head; I'll explain it to you when you wake up." Even though the boy was in front of him, his voice appears to come from everywhere, echoing deafeningly in his room and the words were more growled out than actually spoken.
Swallowing his apprehension, Bill looks at the boy in confusion, "Wake up? W-what are you tal—"
And then Bill wakes up.
Blinking, Bill sits up and looks around his room suspiciously. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he relaxes against his bed. Looking to the side, he sees that the sun was barely up and when he looks towards his clock, the clock read 5:55 AM in bold red.
Since he was already awake, Bill stretches and gets out of his bed. He might as well get ready for school.
Quickly doing the bed, he heads towards his closet to take out the clothes for today and his drawers to pull out his socks and underwear. Quietly tip toeing into the bathroom; he turns on the shower head and let the water run as adjust the temperature. Once the water is set to his liking, he begins to disrobe. When he was done, he eyes the ring in his finger.
Although he didn't get the ring out of want or desire, he might as well take care of it; no use in letting it get ruin since in that odd, creepy way, it was a beautiful ring.
Nodding to himself, he tries to take off the ring. Keyword: tried.
Confused, he tries to take it off. Seeing it didn't move, he tries to twist it. Nothing, it didn't move at all. Ignoring the anxiety that is coiling around his stomach, he opens the faucet, presses the pump of the soap dispenser, he tries to see if the soap was enough to make the ring slippery enough to take it.
Only he got the same results as before, the ring didn't budge at all and the skin around his finger was starting to turn raw.
Now he let the panic sink in.
The ring wouldn't come off!