Aminta was one year old when her parents had begun fighting violently. The two bedroom apartment was not nearly large enough to keep out the sounds of shouting from the kitchen as baby Aminta slept in her crib. She awoke with a cry, upset at having to be awake when she was so utterly exhausted. Her cries went unanswered, though. Oh, her mother shouted at her father for waking the baby, but neither parent went to check on the girl or made any effort to cease the fighting so she could return to sleep. Aminta cried and cried, alone and neglected until a soft sound washed over her. She stopped crying and yawned as what sounded increasingly like music flowed through her developing mind. A soft voice sang her a gentle lullaby, urging her to return to sleep. It continued to sing to her throughout the night, allowing her peaceful rest through the slamming of doors and the shouting of obscenities.
It was the first, but not the last night Aminta would head the voice. She always felt an overwhelming sense of peace and calm when the voice would sing to her, and she was grateful for it as she aged. It was there to sing to her while her mother and father fought, or while her father talked lovingly on the phone with his mistress. It was there when she was four years old and her mother broke all the plates in the house after finding out her father had filed for divorce and left the country. It was there for her when her mother cried every night for a week when she didn't even have to fight for custody of her daughter.
When Aminta was eight years old, the voice began speaking to her as well as singing. It was the Angel of Music, it said, her Guardian Angel. It would tell her stories of heaven, and of a great war that was going on for control of all the world's souls. "I am too mild mannered for war." The voice told her. "So I was sent to Earth to protect the souls that are already here."
As she Aminta grew older her mother began to grow worried about her imaginary friend The Angel of Music. She had read The Phantom of the Opera to her daughter multiple times, and was certain this Angel was just a fantasy brought on by the story Aminta adored so much. But still, it didn't seem healthy for a girl of ten years old to spend all of her free time alone in her room with her books, talking with an Angel nobody but she could hear. And so Aminta's mother enrolled her in cello lessons and in ballet, anything to preoccupy her daughter with activities that involved other children.
This seemed to work, for a while. Aminta excelled at both subjects. She had a dancer's build, with a lean frame and a delicate face, and long, lithe fingers which allowed her to easily play chords on the cello children several years her senior were struggling with. Nearly every hour of Aminta's day was spent in school or in practice; Aminta's mother was certain the girl no longer had time for an imaginary friend. She soon discovered she was very wrong; one night when she went to tuck Aminta into bed after cello practice, she heard the little girl's voice telling the darkness of her room about the difficult portion of some song or another she had mastered that day.
Starting around twelve years old, Aminta realized that not everybody had an Angel of Music like she did. After being ridiculed for writing about her Angel in school, she learned quickly that she should not ever talk about her Angel to anyone. "Angel?" She asked one night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling. "Why don't you talk to everyone? My teacher thinks I'm imagining you… Mom does too."
"I am not everyone's Guardian Angel." The voice stated simply.
"Does everyone have a Guardian Angel?" She asked.
"Yes, they do. But there is a rule that Guardian Angels are not supposed to come into contact with your world, except to protect and comfort their wards."
"Why can I hear you then?"
"Most Angels simply are not capable of breaking God's rules. But I was made to produce music… God initially made me mindlessly obedient like his other servants, but soon realized that my music was dull and heartless. When he gave me freedom of thought and feeling, I lost my ability to mindlessly follow, but gained the ability to create music."
Aminta's eyes widened. "I don't want you to get in trouble just because you talk with me!" She told the voice, though she suddenly thought about what it would be like to go through life without her constant companion.
The voice chuckled melodically. "Don't fret for me, Dear Aminta. It is a risk I gladly take. I enjoy your company as much as you enjoy mine. Sleep now."
"Sing me a lullaby?" Aminta asked, and the voice obeyed. Within moments Aminta had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.
She was fifteen and three quarters years old when she met Mark. Mark was tall and handsome, if something of a bad-boy. His jeans were full of holes, and his leather jacket smelled intoxicatingly like cigarettes. Aminta had been fascinated by him from the moment she met him. He was three years older than her, going to the local community college. They had met at a party through a mutual friend and hit it off immediately. Mark had brought along his guitar, and was impressed by her ability with it when he asked if she played. He was also more privately impressed with her dancer's figure coupled with ample breasts, even if she hadn't quite grown into her face.
The Angel knew right away the boy was trouble, and told Aminta so. For the first time, Aminta got upset with him. "You're just saying that because I've been talking to him more than you."
"I am not, Aminta. I enjoy your company but my duty first and foremost is to protect you. The boy means harm."
"For the first time in my life someone thinks I'm special, Angel. You have no idea how that feels. He thinks I'm pretty and talented, and he actually likes me for me. I'm not going to just tell him to shove off because some voice in my head told me to. He'll think I'm nuts!" She argued, stubbornly.
Suddenly there was light in the darkened room, and a tall figure stood in the hallway. It wore a white robe, protecting its modesty, and emanating the light from within itself. Its wings were soft and downy, and at its hip was strapped a simple, but beautiful violin. Aminta's heart caught in her throat at the sight. She was at a complete and utter loss for words when the angelic figure spoke. "I am not just a voice in your head, Aminta. I am the Angel of Music. Your Angel. I am asking you as your Angel, your friend, as a soul that has loved you and cared for you since before you were born, please be rid of the boy. He means you harm."
"I… Okay. Okay, I'll tell him I can't see him tomorrow."
Suddenly the figure was gone, and Aminta felt oddly alone. "Angel?" She called into the room, but there was no answer. She had never felt this alone in her entire life. It was as if a void had suddenly opened in her soul; for the first but not the last time, she felt incomplete, as if an entire piece of her were missing. It was then that she realized she was in love with the Angel of Music.
Aminta did not call off her relationship with Mark the next day, or even the day following that. Every day that her Angel didn't answer her calls was another day she spent more and more of her time with Mark. What she didn't know was the punishment that was in store for her Angel, and how deeply it would affect her for the rest of her life.
The Angel of Music had disobeyed the command of God. Not only had he communicated with and shown himself to his ward, he was being accused of loving. This was a capital crime in the Kingdom of Heaven; to love a mortal soul meant certain banishment. It compromised the clarity of thought and the clockwork-like functioning of the realm in which all Angels lived, high above the heaven of the Mortals. Fortunately, most Angels were not capable of love. The free-thinking Archangels were among the only servants of God who were could commit such an atrocity as loving a mortal, but all were too well trained, too loyal to their God to even consider such an act. The Angel of Music was the only Angel without rank capable of love, and he was accused of being in love with a mortal soul.
"Do you agree that you are guilty of your charges?" Commanded Michael, weary from a lifetime's battle against his enemies of the underworld.
"I do, Brother. But brother… what is Music without love? Without passion and romance? I have given mankind the ability to write music about love without ever truly knowing what it means to love. And now I know. I did not mean for it to happen. It simply did. I never realized it until this new threat of harm came upon her-"
Michael interrupted. "Is it the threat of harm that worries you, Brother, or is it jealousy?"
"… Perhaps it is both, Brother. I cannot say." Jealousy… Jealousy was an even more unspeakable crime than love.
"Brother. Upon hearing your confession, I sentence you to watch the Mortal come to harm. Your reaction during that time will determine whether you are allowed to keep your wings."
Panic entered the Angel of Music then. Aminta coming to harm… this was the worst possible punishment for a Guardian Angel to endure. Erik knew it would be infinitely more difficult for him than for other Angels, who could not feel emotion as he did. Where they would only feel the pang of failure, the Angel could already feel the pain of heartbreak rising within him.
Aminta had not heard from her Angel in over a week. She was starting to wonder if it had all be some strange dream. Mark had taken her to coffee and a movie that night. Aminta knew her mother would be working late, doing the costume fittings for the Lion King down on Broadway. She knew her mother would never approve of Mark, but knowing she wasn't home gave Aminta the courage to invite him inside. It would be a move she would forever regret.
The Angel nearly went mad as he was forced to watch, restrained by Holy forces and unable to look away. He watched heartbrokenly as they kissed, and shouted ferociously when Mark struck his dearest Aminta across the face. The normally mild mannered Angel struggled violently against his hold as the rape took place, calling out her name and praying to God and to Satan, to anyone who was listening to let her hear him, to let her know that her Angel had not abandoned her.
It was that night that Aminta decided there were no Guardian Angels. There was no such thing as the Angel of Music, and there certainly was no merciful God in Heaven.
Upon returning to the Kingdom of Heaven, The Angel of Music was met with his final punishment. His wings were stripped from him unceremoniously, and his once ethereal features were torn to shreds. While in Heaven he was beautiful, his life on Earth among mortals would be one of ugliness. He was to be separated from his love by time and distance, so that their paths should never cross. Upon his death, the once-Angel would be sent to Purgatory, to contemplate his crimes with the rest of the mortals. Even if he were judged worthy of entering the Kingdom of Heaven, he would never again attain the status of Angel he had once held. He would simply be another soul.
When Aminta awoke in their small house in the country, there was the sting of tears in her eyes. She turned in bed to face Erik, who was already awake and watching her sadly.
"You dreamed it too, didn't you?"
