December 20, 2007

The weather was cold that winter night, walking home while icy white snowflakes fell upon my eyelashes. I wrapped the sleeves of my torn and hole filled sweatshirt over my knuckles, an attempt to make myself a bit warmer. Nothing was working, though. It was always like this. Everyday of my life was a living hell.

I was afraid go home that day. I was afraid to go home everyday. With my father coming home drunk almost every evening, the slightest of disappointment in his fury filled brown eyes. He would take the pain of his life out on my own. He did numerous things to both my mother and I, terrible things. But my mother didnt care either. She was drugged out almost everyday as well. I don't blame her.

No one would notice the drops of scarlet blood stained on the bathroom floor. No one would see my golden tanned skin slowly turning a sickening pale as the days go by. No one really cares. I don't even care. I don't know why I'm still alive. Maybe its because I'm clinging to the thought that some miracle will happen. By some miracle meaning this ongoing anxiety and depression would vanish or I just wouldn't be such a freak to everyone who sees me. Or maybe its just because I'm loosing my mind. My useless life is dangling dangerously by a small, thin piece of thread that anyone, even myself, could break.

Today was the day. Today was the day of my own death. I didnt know how or even why, but the crunch of the snow beneath my feet got quieter. The robin blue sky turned an unwelcoming grey. The white, cloudy smoke coming out of my mouth came to a stop. The muscles in my neck tensed while pins and needles scraped at my skin. I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating. I, Dan howell, was suffocating myself to death. My eyesight became blurry and white. In that moment, I felt something. I actually felt, something that hadn't happened in quite a while. In that moment I didn't panic nor did I react. I simply just let my body collapse upon the the frozen path I was recently walking on. I lay there on the deathly cold fallen snow for awhile. I couldnt breathe, but I was still concious. I could feel myself slipping away into the pure white light clutching onto me.

One second before I let go of the thread my life was desperately clinging onto, a sudden blurry looking figure appeared in my view. Confusion washed over me as the figure ahead of me became clearer. I could see long, white glorious wings spread off the back of the angel's shoulders. Was I dreaming? Or was I already dead?

The time seemed to have stopped once I laid my eyes on the angel's hypnotizing blue eyes. My heart literally ached just by the sight of the angel. His raven black hair highlighted his features perfectly. He was so beautiful. I felt tears springing to my eyes out of pure bliss. I felt his solid, warm hand cup my cheek. His touch soothed me, every ounce of my body seemed to have healed both mentally and physically. The pain, cold, suffering all faded away. I became filled with only warmth and comfort, the feeling was new as I have never experienced my mind and body so calm and relaxed. I tried to reach my hand out to touch him, to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but he quickly retreated his hand from my cheek and shook his head. He looked so scared, so fragile. I didn't understand a single moment of what had just happened.

"Philip Michael Lester," The boy's low, harmonous voice echoed off the nearby trees. "And you are Daniel right?"

I couldn't seem to find my voice, so I just nodded. Why did I have to act like such an idiot? Why couldn't I just speak?

The angel studied me, his blue eyes softening as he moved a bit closer to were I lay. One of his silky white hands reached down and clasped with my own. He gently pulled my limp body off of the ground and quickly wiped away the single tear that roll down my cheek.

"I'm not crying," I managed to croak out at him, embarrassed by how emotional I was getting. I could hear laughter coming from the angels lips, only making my cheeks blush a deep rose looking colour.

"It happens to all people who look at us angels, don't feel bad."

My heart squeezed when Phil gave me an adorable looking smile, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth.

"Why?" I asked Phil almost silently, my eyes wondering down to the ground. I couldn't look at him without fumbling my words.

"Why what?" The angel tilted his head and placed a finger under my chin, bringing it up slowly so I could meet his eyes. This of course made me even more nervous.

"Why me?" My voice went up an octave and I hoped Phil didn't notice. "You saved me. Why?"

The angel hadn't seemed to let go of my chin, his finger still tracing small soothing circles over my skin. He took awhile to reply, obviously distracted by my skin.

"You have beautiful skin, why would you ruin it with such cuts?"

My mouth dropped in shock. How could he possibly know I cut? I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at Phil. Not only did he ignore my question, but he brought up the one thing I didn't ever want to talk about. I was never angry, about anything really, but Phil just asking out of the blue about why I had cuts on my arms made me a bit more then just annoyed. He hardly knew me.

"What do you mean by Why do you cut yourself? Do you think I can control it?" My voice was unusually cold and distant. I don't know why the angels question offended me so much. Something inside me sparked when he mentioned my cuts.

The angel stayed silent after my outburst and pursed his lips, trailing a finger down my arm to where my cuts lay hidden. Defensively, I tried to pull my arm away from his grasp but it was impossible to try and reason with an angel. Phil kept my arm within his reach, carefully pulling up the sleeve of the sweatshirt to reveal my dark, hideous looking scars. He ran his soothing hands across my scars and I had to look away to keep from tearing up again. God I'm so weak.Silence swept over the both of us. Phil was busy examining my scars while I stand there with endless thoughts running through my head.

"He probably thinks you're a freak like everyone else."

"He's disgusted by you."

My legs became weak and they threatened to buckle beneath me. It took everything to hold myself up and pretend as if I wasn't falling apart inside. The anxiety was surrounding me, whispering horrible thoughts into my ear.

"Phil," I spoke softly, letting out a breath to try and get myself to calm down. "I need to go."

I could see Phil pull my sleeve down in one swift motion and grab onto my hand, holding it tightly in his—almost as if he thought I was going to fly away from him.

"Where do you want to go?"

I just shook my head and started to nervously fiddle with the holes in my sweatshirt. I didn't know how to tell him I needed to be alone. For fucks sake, I didn't even know who or why an angel had just saved me. Plus he refused to tell me why he was here and why he saved me. I couldn't grasp this all in one night. It was all too much.

"Go," I told the angel, shutting my eyes in hopes he would just vanish. I wanted nothing more then to have someone, to not be alone for once, but I couldn't think straight when he was around.

"Please, this all is just—" I paused, opening my eyes to see an empty, snowy white forest around me. No sign of anyone.

It took me awhile to regain my composure back. When I started to finally step through the snow, I heard something odd crinkle beneath the my feet. I came to a stop and lifted up my shoe to see a small, soft white feather stuck to the sole. I delicately pulled the feather off my shoe to see a number, not just any number, but a phone number sprawled against the back of the feather.

I was going completely insane.