Prologue

I feel so far away from her.

We used to be inseparable, but nowadays there's everything between us. High school made a lot of changes to our lives. I signed up for honors again, and she decided she no longer wanted to take the advanced classes. Honors literature is the only class we share. She wants to be an author. Actually, at this time, I am editing one of her novels. She's such an amazing writer; I wish I had her talent, but I have a lot more for her to want than me of her. But she doesn't. She's not selfish, or greedy, or loathsome of anyone but her parents and the man who murdered a girl in her sleep. She's not a bad person deep down like I am. She refuses to get stepped on by people bigger than her. She'll rush right by them before she offers them that chance, even if she's not going to be late if she walks. I let people minor myself. I change who I am to 'fit in' or to 'stand out.' I'm in a world where it's impossible for a person to be who they really are, but she conquered the world. She stands with the world spinning at her command on the tip of her pinky.

I miss her.

I treasure the things she does when she's close. I love to wear the flash-drive that contains her life. If anything happened to it, she would fall to pieces. Her novel is one of the most important things to her. Aaron and I fall directly under that category as well, Aaron being above me for obvious reasons. I watched him propose. I was promised a show on Valentine's Day, and I was rewarded with the biggest smile. I love her red-braced grin. It's so infrequently an occurrence of realness, it was beautiful to see. She rarely isn't forcing a smile to her pale cheeks. When it's natural, it's like the first blooming rose of spring propped in the hand of an angel. I love that she let me keep one of her pens. I've never been able to figure out why, but she holds them close to her. She always clicks them a certain way and a certain number of times. She writes with a specific one most of the time, not always simply because that's all she has to write with. And she never, never lets other people have her pens.

What happened to us?

I know that school separated us physically, but mentally and emotionally, we're falling apart. I see her between almost every class and I try to get as many hugs as I can. I used to not be a hugger. I didn't like touching people, especially if I didn't know them that well, but I was always okay with hugging her. Her hugs are special to me. I went through a rough childhood at school, and she pulled me through the end of it. Granted, I can't put my childhood say in when it comes to who had it worse, but I still struggled. Her hugs let me know that she cared, and that's all I ever wanted. For someone to care about Prescilla. I try to get as much care out of her as possible, and I get jealous when she cares for other people. That's why I make sure I get two hugs, one when I arrive and one when we depart. I believe it's her caring for me first and last, no matter how many others come between that.

Lucifer is the angel of choice.

She chose the classes that separated us. She chose him over me. She chose to brutally kill him, separating us farther. Choices, choices, choices. Life is full of them. Life is also full of regret. I regret letting her demote herself. I regret not being there for her when we were small, or I'd have always been her number one. I regret not answering her phone call that night.