A brief chord was struck from a holy instrument. The delicate fingers that slid with effortless ease over the frets and strings released their tension for a moment. A swear cursed those lips as a expression of frustration was etched on the brow.

"I can't. Too hard. Too complicated. Not anymore." The English language failing him once again he threw instrument against the wall. It shattered apart into mere splinters. A puzzle to confusing to put back together again.

He paced around the room, watching those splinters as though they might return to life. His wings grew from his back and spread with a magnificence no one would appreciate. He grit his teeth and grabbed for a helping hand that would never come. Instead, that loneliness was filled with a cigarette.

"Perfect holiness." He muttered to himself and chuckled. That never failed to bring a smile to his face. Who wouldn't laugh to know the holiest angel in heaven was a struggling, failing rock star? He struck fire from his hands and watched it light the cigarette. It burned away as he clothed himself.

Flinging the perpetual burning cigarette to the ground, he wiped the circles away from his eyes. He smiled at himself in the mirror. His heart pumped twice as he was caught with the image of his sister. He grabbed his shaking hand and willed it to stop.

"I don't have time for this. I'm too busy being…" He never finished his sentence. He didn't know what to finish it with. His mind, what was left of it, could focus on little else. He used its power for what it was worth. He's being, every ounce of devotion or meaning he had in his body was devoted to her.

He closed his eyes and minced about the floor. He was frightened to leave. Frightened to face the world with all that hatred, all that terror and problems. Here in his room he was safe. No one could call him a monster, facing him with his identity. He couldn't look God in the eye, let alone look at himself and what he'd become.

With nowhere left to go, he hung his head dejectedly. A sheep on his way to the slaughterhouse. A pawn with no more meaning then to be sacrificed. He shuffled across the carpet, leading himself towards his death. He whipped his head around to glance at that mirror once more. A brief smiled played on those lips.

"Perfect Holiness." His voice shattered into splinters.