Chapter 1

The Second coming

It was a room like any other ; faded beige carpet abstractly decorated with a multitude of mystery stains (most of which were paint, but visitors still wondered about the red ones , and who could blame them in a place like this), worn but sturdy furniture that stood the test of time and just enough wallpapered walls to uphold the heaving ceiling.

I sat on the edge of the large king sized bed, my hands folded under my chin in a gesture of calculating measure . Of thinking. And of coming up short.

The piece of paper which ignited my mind so was poking out from between my intertwined fingers, gently caressing my lips, covering them and making sure I kept them shut. I sighed and the note fluttered , light as a feather . Only I knew how much weight it really bore. I could feel it crushing my heart.

This cannot be happening. Not to him. Oh God oh please let it be a mistake.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the horrid reality which threatened to consume , well, everything.

All of a sudden I jumped up on my feet , adopting a fighting stance - physically, mentally and emotionally. I would not do this. I will fight , The thought burned white hot and just as bright against the inside of my skull before flaring out as quickly as it appeared.

I can't fight them .

The realisation lay so heavy on my shoulders it threatened to compress me into ash.

No one can - it's why I'm here.

I looked at the door with glistening, fearful and fury-misted eyes. I had no time - I was running out of air. He would be here any minute now and I was back to being the little frightened girl . I was back to needing him. Only now he didn't know who i was and God knows he won't help a stranger. Not after what the last one has done to him . To me. To us.

Argh! I groaned with such fury as befitting my new rank as Angel of Death. I was a rolling ball of fire and wrath so strong even hell hath not known such angst.

This wasn't the deal I pushed out with my mind as far as I could, willing the message to reach the highest arch in heaven.

Everything I've done - EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU.

I couldn't help it I collapsed in a mess of dry sobs and momentary defeat. This was all too much. After everything they've put me through I should've seen it coming but my innate naivety fooled me into believing it was over. The battle was fought . They won . But at least it was over. I've paid the ransom for him with my life.

I'VE PAID THE RANSOM I screamed blindly in my mind praying the archangels would hear, knowing they'd ignore the call - or rather, the accusation.

Later when I revisited the memory I would try and convince myself that I imagined the faint chuckle which contrasted my raw red anguish, afraid of what the alternative would mean.

Time was running out too quickly . I rolled onto my side and heaved myself upwards and off of the dirty floor, rubbing at my itchy eyes.

After all I had a job to do . A star-crossed assignment that my employers would pay for. I laughed a mirthless laugh. Who was I kidding? The weren't employers but masters of my soul. They held it within their palms - each of the archangels in charge of a little tattered piece , hell-bent on destroying it while squeezing out as much fragrant pain as possible.

Then all of a sudden two little noises made time stop in its tracks and halted the earth spinning on its unforgiving axis.

knock knock

The sound seemed to steel something inside of me and suddenly I stood as straight as could be and focused my eyes on the slowly opening door, the barely audible creek augmenting my rock hard resolve for vengeance.

A pair of the blackest of eyes twinkled from inside the shadowed crack before slowly but purposefully making their way into the dusty room.

The tattered baseball hat hid them to some extent but I knew them too well ...once upon a time. Only all of a sudden once upon a time was now - it was here again and I struggled under the onslaught of memories.

His eyes gave away not an ounce of recognition and why would they? As far as he was concerned I never existed up until now. They stole me from him.

My hand twitched , wanting to reach out to this poor, clueless boy and the crumpled, abused note escaped my clutches , sailing on the breeze which he let into the room, before gently landing face-up on the ground.

Two words were clearly visible on the post-it . The archangels' instructions were inscribed in glistening crimson ink :

Kill Patch.

...

All reviews are greatly appreciated - let me know what you think of this alternative twist on the story which we all know and love so well!