DESTROYED

Chapter 31

SUMMARY: Angel shares intimate secrets with Julia. Mark goes to visit Sam in jail.

NOTE: I wanna apologise for taking so long with this chapter. Aside from personal issues I've had to deal with, I've also been experiencing a serious lack of motivation to keep writing.

Collins had left the room almost ten minutes earlier and still a word had yet to be exchanged between the drag queen and the person who had put him in the hospital, negative or positive. Neither knew how to approach this, delicately or otherwise, and the awkward silence only held truth to this – with Angel, he was never used to these awkward moments or being in a position where he could either love or hate someone based on nothing but what was said there and then – not their commonalities or differences; not their history… it was a power that he didn't want anymore than he wanted to hate or distrust Collins. No one ever stays the same after something like this happens to them, but for Angel – he would never be the same as he was before he met Collins. So why was it so hard to talk to this young woman who was obviously scared to death of what he might say or do? For once in his life, Angel was not able to read a person – feel what she was feeling, know what she must have been thinking. There was a roadblock there – Julia and Angel were standing on opposite sides of it just staring at each other, communication inevitable, yet delayed. For Julia, it was the exact polar opposite that kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to know what Angel was thinking or feeling… she didn't want him to say anything at all, because she knew what it would be and a confirmation of Angel's probable hatred was more than likely to send her off the deep end for good. If she really had torn Angel's life apart, she'd rather do all the hating herself than to hear the words come from the one person she feared most. For surely it would mean no other thing than for her to realize what a horrible person she really was. So the two of them just stared at each other, both uncomfortable but unwilling to take the necessary first steps to ease each other's discomfort. One was racked with guilt; the other was plagued with uncertainty, and both were feeling the ill-effects of their own choices and the destiny that had chosen for them selves. Maybe Angel was a little less in control of everything than Julia was, but nevertheless he was feeling the responsibility for how things were turning out – and how this little meeting went would all be determined on how he chose to handle it.

Julia shifted her weight and still made no attempt to do what she had promised Collins she would do, which was to set things right. The hurt she was feeling did not pass Angel by, but he was hardly in a position to tell her things were going to be okay when clearly they were not. Man, this was awkward.

"So…" Angel made the first weak attempt to kill the deafening silence. "What now?"

Julia took a deep, sharp breath and hooked her index fingers around the metal rail bar at the end of the bed. What could she say that could possibly satisfy the need for an explanation, for the person whose life she practically ruined? More importantly, why was this getting so difficult that it was at the point where she could barely breathe without feeling the sharp sting of guilt. What made it all worse was the knowledge that no matter what she said or did or whether they forgave her or not or whether she went to jail or not, she'd never escape it. Never.

"I dunno," she whimpered. "Angel, I dunno… I don't know what to say."

"Honey, you ain't the only one."

Angel's belief in the good in all people and in humanity in general was obviously way compromised now, but not his ability to know when someone was telling the truth or not. Living his lifestyle, Angel often enough encountered people of the dangerous kind, and from his experiences he knew deep down that Julia was not a dangerous person. She was only a naïve child who was caught up with a dangerous habit that overcame her, and so it was hard to hate her for that. Angel was hardly in a position to judge her habit, when his lifestyle was just as dangerous at times. I know, that's stupid right? But remember who Angel is… what his life is, and maybe it would not be so hard to understand. Like Collins said earlier… Angel had no capacity to hate anyone, but the betrayal he felt cut deeper than any hatred ever could. Having everything he believed in and loved about life thrown back in his face with so much force by someone his lover had felt was so good.

"Angel, I—"

"Look," the drag queen cut her off. "I love Collins, and he's all that matters to me. And I got nothing to do with this anymore, you hear? Nothing."

Julia stepped back, Angel's cryptic words sure to come back and haunt her at some point. What did he mean? "I—"

"And every time he kisses me, I can't hate him anymore. I need him more. I can't hate Collins for his past anymore than I can hate you for your life. That's not who I am anymore… that's not who I was…"

"Angel, please—"

"When I left home, like, eight years ago… I vowed never to become my parents. Wasted products of a society who appreciates nothing but money and power over love and friendship." Angel stared at his hands, interlocking his fingers and gazing at the bandages that covered the deep wounds. There was no point in dragging this out any further but how to put this as delicately as possible, not wanting to lose control of this anymore. For so long now Angel had no control over what happened to him, while others like Collins, Sam, Julian, Julia, and his friends… all for different reasons they tried to control what happened to Angel, but no longer could he afford to let them, good intentions or no.

"You know what I mean? Whatever you did girl… I don't wanna know what you did. I couldn't take it. Whatever it was, I just would rather not know... for so long my life has been about being everything people didn't want me to be, and making the perfect outfits and be everything I wanna be. I wanna go back to that."

"Can you?"

"Probably not. I can try though, right?"

Julia didn't respond either way. Angel closed his eyes and oddly, a small smile spread across his face. Okay…

"It's like I'm being told by God, Himself that enough is enough, you know? Like what I'm doing is wrong, but it feels right. With Collins, I mean. Even if it means I'm condemned to hell, I'd still never go on without feeling his arms around me… now Collins feels like I'm being punished for it. For his mistakes. Whatever. You've seen it now, Julia… what do you think?"

The student was slightly shocked at Angel's relaxed and cryptic, and often complex ramblings. She knew he had a big heart and experiences she couldn't ever imagine, but this was ridiculous… looking into his eyes she couldn't see one ounce of anger or contempt. Instead it looked like he was calm… serene. It was actually kind of intimidating for Julia as she didn't know what he was thinking.

"I… I don't know," she stammered. "Angel, I—"

"No matter what, it's like this shitty world takes a lot of pleasure in watching people like you and me fuck up and eventually die," Angel scoffed bitterly. Julia licked her lips which had dried from nervousness. "Some way to measure your life, yeah?"

"You… you and me?" she repeated. Angel nodded.

"Yeah. You know, everyone staring and pointing, none of them understanding or knowing how fabulous our lives really are. You don't fit in at home any more than I do on the Upper East Side, do you?"

Finding her voice, and her nerve, had run away from her, Julia nodded her head quickly in agreement. Angel smiled at weakly lifted his hand, gesturing Julia with his index finger, motioning her to move forward and come be next to him. She understandably hesitated and was nervous with Angel's lack of aggression towards her, and put it down to the drugs and his incapacitated state that was keeping him calm. Angel again motioned to her, this time a bit more aggressively, and she moved forwards slowly, around the end of the bed, and walked up beside him. Angel then reached over and lightly curled his fingers around her hand, feeling the warmth of her though she was visibly shaking badly. In an attempt to calm the nerves, Angel ran his thumb over her soft skin and a wave of curiosity consumed him. Angel didn't have to hear the words to know the full extent of Julia's wrongdoing, the full extent of her participation in Sam's 'quest' to hurt him – already he knew just how involved she had to have been. For her to explain what she did now would serve no other purpose than to force him to relieve the past week when really he didn't want to, nor should have to. Julia didn't have the heart to pull away as she would alienate them both from each other further, so instead she just watched him. His eyes were firmly locked onto her hand, as if she was so delicate that she'd break should the utmost care not be taken. He then stretched his fingers, spreading them out over her hand, and gently pressing her skin and then lifting his hand away and seeing the white imprint marks he left there. Quickly the marks disappeared as the warm pink colouring returned and Angel was oddly fascinated with it… paying close detail to Julia's hand. A curious and somewhat strange behavior for him to engage in, given that this was the young woman who was responsible for Julian slitting his throat, but he wasn't thinking of that right now.

"Everything will be okay," he whispered, not to Julia or anyone. Just a general comment. "A promise made to me…."

Julia felt her mouth dry up and could only utter a few dry syllables, reeling from the tense and undesirable situation that had emerged. She fully expected Angel to yell at her, cry, and make her feel a hundred times worse than she had already done to herself, but Angel was calm. Relaxed. Even smiling at her through the weakness brought about by the medicine, and not at all looking out of place or uncomfortable. It was like he knew something she didn't. Julia shook herself out of the daze she was in.

"By w—who?" she asked; only managing two words, though expected him to say Collins, but Angel giggled.

"Erica. One of my best friends. Of course, her driver's license actually says Eric Masters. But when I met her she was all-woman and I wanted to be exactly like her. Clothes, hair, make-up… the love of life. Everything. She rocked and I was her protégé. Her child. She taught me everything about surviving – on the streets, being gay, being in love… learning how to live and handle myself before I would be able to take on the world. She was the epitome of femininity and had the sexual prowess of any diva at that time…" Angel explained, linking fingers with Julia. "She's fifteen years older than me, so she was like a second mother to me, given that my own mom doesn't wanna know me anymore. Whatever, you know? Anyway…" he sighed. "Erica introduced me to the wonderful world of the drag queens. A beautiful world. She bought me my first pair of really nice, expensive heels. She and her boyfriend, Jordan, gave them to me for my seventeenth birthday and oh my God, Julia, you should've seen it. They threw me this huge bash, including male strippers and everything, can you believe it? Anyway, that's where I laid eyes on my first boyfriend, Nicholas. My God, a more beautiful creature I had never laid eyes on… well, a that time at least," he added with a small smile, and Julia knew at that moment he was thinking of Collins. The soft expression on Angel's face told her so. He quickly snapped back to what he was talking about.

"And… and…" he licked his lips and became a little more serious. "Afterwards… after people went home or passed out on the floor, or went to have sex in the back rooms or whatever… afterwards, Erica took me to the roof and we sat on the ledge. Just sat there, silently, for like an hour… she then took my hand in hers and looked at me, smiling just the way she always did. It was a comforting smile, and I adored it… Erica always made me feel so safe and that no matter what happened, the world was not always an evil place, that there was some good left in it and that it was worth fighting for… and she always taught me that people were good, it's just that it was easier to see in some than in others. And that life was worth living for no matter how hard it seemed to get or how much it seemed like it was against you." He smiled serenely, loving the memories of his times with the diva who taught him everything he knew about life and accepting who he was, and loving himself. Julia stood there silently, but saw a tear roll down his cheek.

"Right away I could tell something wasn't right. Something was… different about her, but I couldn't put my finger on it. So finally, I asked her what was wrong and she just took me in her arms and said 'Angel… my Angel… you've become who you were born to be. Never let that go, okay?' And I didn't know what she was talking about, and I became scared. I asked her again, what was wrong. She didn't respond right away and so I asked her again, with more force, and so she told me… she said, 'I'm dying, Angel.' I didn't know what to say. I was shocked. I couldn't believe it or say anything, so she continued. She said, 'Angel, I got sick. I've got AIDS. I've had it for a long time now.' This was just at the start of the AIDS epidemic so not many people, including me, knew what it was. I don't think even she knew what it was, but she just knew she was gonna die…" his eyes lowered and blinked away the tears. Painful.

"And," he continued this time, with a sense of sadness… choked up. "And I just remember bursting out into tears and she held me, just like she always had. And she kissed my forehead and told me that no matter what, it was gonna be okay… because we shared so much love, that she'd always live on inside me. That I'd never have to go throw anything, good or bad, alone… that she'd be with me the good times and comfort me through the bad. And she told me to never give up on the world; on people… because only when I give up will hate take over me. She told me to never stop loving no matter what."

Julia sat down on the bed.

"She lived her entire life not knowing what was gonna happen, but loved every second of it… she taught me to do the same," Angel sniffed. "She died, like, two months later. At the hospital. Her family came, but the only two people she wanted to see was me and Jordan. It was like she saw it coming, you know… and she saw so many people around her, who she touched so much, crying and so sad. Including me. And now, when I see my friends… and Collins… and everyone crying because of me, it's like they're actually crying for Erica. Not me. Like she touched them. Through me. And I hate it. Because I am who I am… because of her. And she can't be here to tell me it's gonna be okay, and to hold me again… I get hurt and she can't be here to tell me that there is still some good left, that there is hope, you know?" tears streamed down his face more freely and Julia instinctively reached over and wiped them away with her fingers. Angel initially flinched at her touch but quickly relaxed. "Erica taught me everything. I can't get her out of my system. But now I just don't know if what I feel… the hope… is me, or if it's Erica's spirit in me. Like I can't control it."

To have Angel question who he was, was the ultimate sign of his spirit breaking down and it was killing Julia to know that she was the mainly responsible for it.

"Angel, it's all you," she whispered. "I'm so sorry… I know I don't know you like the others, but I know it's all you. I know it."

"How?"

"Because Collins… he sees it too. If it wasn't you, he'd know it. Wouldn't he?"

Angel sniffled again. "I guess… it's just that everything is falling apart and I don't know if I can hold it together anymore. Erica told me to never give up, to never stop loving no matter how bad things get or how much people hurt me. It's hard not to anymore, cause all it seems is that people wanna hurt me for just being who I am… like it's not right for me to be who I am, who she told me to be. 'Stay true to your heart, Angel baby,' she always said. Now I'm being punished for it." Julia felt like that was a huge jab at her, but didn't say anything about it. Angel needed to realize just how important he was to everyone who loved him, and maybe Julia was the only one who could convince him.

"Angel, you're the only one who can know something. Whether it's right or not," Julia tried. "Not Erica. Not Collins. Not any body... Collins fell in love with you, not Erica. And he knows you better than anybody. And you love him… doesn't having that love tell you just how special you are? How much you're loved?"

"It's not that simple," Angel replied. "How can I keep living like there's still hope, that there's still good… when everything that's happened just hurts me and everyone more and more? How can I? That's living a lie…"

"It's not a lie if you feel it; if you know it," Julia countered. "You still feel the good; the love, right? You still know it? You still see it?"

He nodded. "I do. I just don't know if it's real anymore. Or if it's me blind to what's really going on, I don't know. But I do feel it."

"Then that's it. You know it. You feel it. That means it's all you…"

Angel relaxed against the pillows and thought about that. Maybe she was right – that the feelings he still knew was in him; in his blood… that means it had to be him, right? The love he felt for Collins, that they shared, was as strong as ever, though it took a while for them both to see it. That was worth holding onto.

"I still feel it, girl," Angel finally said, this time with a bit more confidence. A bit more belief. "Yeah… I know it." Julia didn't return the smile, and Angel knew why…

"I don't hate you, Julia…"

"You know why I did it?" she snapped, with evident self-disgust.

"Baby, I know why you did it…

"So you should hate me, Angel. I hate me!" she stood up. "I don't get it… if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be…." She stopped herself. "I can't say it… don't make me say it."

Angel raised an eyebrow at her, slightly amused. "I didn't make you say anything. You're doing this to yourself, not me. You have no idea what I've done in my life, all the shitty things, and the druggies I hung out with… I'm a fucking street drumming drag queen with AIDS, you can only guess what shit I've gotten up to. Hating you would only take away the time I have to love my friends, and that's time I can't afford to waste anymore…"

Julia paced up and down next to his bed, frustrated at just how much she was putting herself through, and though it was apparent that both Collins and Angel forgave her, it was still not nearly enough as to what she felt she deserved. And Angel's response to her only worsened it for her, not eased it.

"Why, Angel? Ever since it happened I've totally freaked about the thought of having to face you and Tom, and you both act like… like… I don't even know what you're acting like."

"Trust me, I'm just as surprised. But… I almost lost Collins and my friends… I got another chance with him that I never had with Nicholas; the Collins never had with Sam…"

"What happened with you and Nicholas?"

Angel adjusted his blankets and pouted his lips. "He died. Four years ago. Just after I turned eighteen."

"AIDS?"

"He was shot. Gang thing."

"Oh."

He smirked. "Not every bohemian andgay personwalking the street has AIDS you know…"

Julia scoffed. It sure seemed like it. In this small group she knew, four of them had AIDS or HIV… Collins, Angel, Mimi, and Roger. And Angel's best friend, Erica, died from complications from the disease. It was the early nineties. It was like every second or third person living in the East Village was HIV positive or whatever, and certainly from a preppy perspective like Julia's, it seemed like the disease was lurking everywhere.

"I know," she replied defensively. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah I do. And why the hell you'd go to Sam and Julian for drugs… of all people, when there are plenty of dealers walking the street—"

"I know." Here it came. Julia didn't dare say how it was them who came to her in her most vulnerable of times. "Angel, I know. And I'll never forgive myself, I'm so—"

"Sorry, I know," Angel cut her off. "I forgive you. I think you've done enough hating of yourself for us all. I still think you got a way to go before you forgive yourself… you're the one who has to live with you." Angel didn't have to yell or scream or cry for him to get someone to know he was angry, and believe me, Julia knew it. She could hear and see it. But she also could see a lot of conflict. And a lot of hope. "Erica told me, she promised me that it would all be okay… and it will be. Okay? For both of us."

"Collins wants me to turn myself in."

"Honey, it's either you or me…" Angel quipped. Both paused… and then laughed.

WITH MARK – 1:00PM

Signing the visitor's log, Mark's heart pounded in his chest at meeting with Sam. He didn't even know why he agreed to meet him in the first place; he must have been in a spontaneous mood when he agreed to the visit. Hearing Sam's soft, defeated voice through the phone receiver, it sparked curiosity in Mark to see what was up – the drug pusher told him that he had something he needed to say, and that it could only be done face to face. No one else knew of the phone call, and Mark decided not to tell them for they'd say nothing but for him to not go. It wasn't that he wanted to go, but he was curious to know how the son of a bitch, who almost destroyed Collins' and Angel's lives, was coping in an environment in which he was not in control. It had taken an hour for him to arrive at the prison, and needless to say, it was a very intimidating place to a budding young filmmaker, and of course Mark was told he had to leave his camera at home.

So here he was. A semi-cynical, young bohemian willingly walking into a very cold, hard, unforgiving place that would so quickly eat him up if he let his guard down. The walls, the ceiling, the floor… everything was grey and dull and just boring. How on earth anyone could live like this, in such confinement. For any artist, like Mark, it would be so stifling and dull that the only way out would be suicide. Mark couldn't help but think of such chilling thoughts in a place that was obviously not just meant to confine and house criminals, but act as a deterrent itself to anyone thinking about committing a crime. So for our bohemians, who valued their freedom and being different, such a place was horrible to imagine… no freedom and simple conformity.

Mark clipped the visitors badge to his shirt and walked over to stand where the other inmates' visitors were standing, though he chose to stand near the back, against the wall. He looked around at the families standing around him and then moved further back. Whatever Sam wanted, he'd have to get it out quick because Mark was not intending to stay for too long at all. Then, one of the steel doors opened and a man in a dark blue suit and black tie briskly walked out, with a clipboard in his hand looking bored out of his mind, and came to a stop just in front of the group.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," he spoke up and everyone immediately quieted down and turned their attention to the man, who seemed to be a supervisor or something to that effect.

"If you will kindly follow me; please remove all jewelry and metallic objects, as well as any bags and or extra possession – please present them for inspection through security and step through the metal detectors and stand to the side once cleared. Thank you." The man then stepped aside as the visitors began to line up through security, a slow enough process. Mark lined up near the back of the line and patiently waited his turn, still thinking of all the possible reasons as to why Sam specifically asked for him to come down, instead of Collins… this had to be good. But from the way he sounded on the phone, he sounded weak… defeated. Depressed. Of course, there's no wonder considering he was facing a life sentence. Too bad New York State did not have the death penalty, as Mark would've loved to be there to see the needle being shoved into their veins. How ironic for drug dealers. But alas the anti-death penalty lobbyists have gotten their way and so they would just have to settle for Sam and Julian rotting away in a controlled place for their rest of their lives.

When it came to his turn, Mark held out his arms as a security officer passed him over with a hand-held metal detecting scanner. Mark rolled his eyes and looked over to see his bag being passed through the other scanner, checking for any objects that could be seen as a danger to the inmates, the officers, or anyone else.

"Okay, sir, please step over there," the guard gestured for Mark to collect his belongings and step aside, giving him the all clear to go through. All this trouble and Mark shouldn't even be here… if any of his friends found out he was here, they'd go nuts. A few minutes later, after the last visitors passed the inspection, three guards moved around them and the same man who had given the initial instructions once again appeared at the front of the group of around twenty people.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. Please follow me, and please wait before inmates are seated before moving into the visitor's hall." He then turned and started down a long corridor, and the visitors started following closely behind, with Mark tailing at the back of the group. Every step forward convinced him further that he shouldn't be here, and that he should just turn and go home. What could be so important that Sam wanted to speak to him in person? As weak as he sounded on the phone, Sam was often deceptive and manipulative so there was a need to obviously be cautious. To Mark, Samuel Michaels was nothing more than a drug dealer and gun runner who would do anything to get his way, or do anything to extract revenge on those who dare cross his path and ruin everything he created.

Walking into the large hall, inmates in their orange jumpsuits were just being seated and shackled to the seats, out of reach from where their visitors would be, for security reasons.

"Sir?" an officer approached him, holding a clipboard. "Your name and who you are here to see?"

"Oh, uh… I'm Mark Cohen, here for Sam Michaels."

"Samuel Michaels?"

"Uh, yeah…"

The officer checked his clipboard and checked a box, then looked back up at the man standing in front of him.

"Certainly, follow me please."

The officer led Mark around tables, and soon after about thirty seconds, a familiar person sitting at a distant table. Sam was sitting there, starting at the table, looking not too good… the immediate impression Mark got was Sam was nervous. Even scared. Like he had seen a ghost… or two. He looked up in time to see the officer bring Mark Cohen over to the table, and he started shaking.

"You have an hour," the officer stated and then left just as Mark sat down, leaving them alone. He placed his bag at his side, and stared at the man in front of him. Sam looked so pathetic now, he wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. After all the damage this man caused, to laugh now wasn't necessarily inappropriate as it was too difficult. Sam had destroyed so many lives, and almost destroyed two of Mark's best friends'… it was ironic how things turned out. Sam's love for Collins; his inability to control his love… was the basic reason as to why he was sitting in the orange jumpsuit now. No doubt Angel and Collins would have to go through an emotional trial once Sam and Julian were put on trial for attempted murder. Things weren't ending, but beginning and you'd have to be a fool not to see that. But maybe, finally, the struggle could end. The struggle for Angel to believe his own worth again, the struggle for Collins to move past the guilt; the struggle for the family of friends return to a state of normalcy; the struggle for Sam to come into acceptance of the fact that no longer Collins held love for him in the same way he did. Sam was Collins' first love, and so there would always be a tiny piece of that love that would forever remain in them both. But it wasn't the same anymore. Mark suddenly felt a rush of pity, even sympathy, for the now pathetically weak person sitting in front of him. He took a deep breath.

"What do you what, Sam?"

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm so sorry for taking so long for this chapter to come up, but I've had things to deal with. Okay, so the next chapter will follow on from this meeting between Mark and Sam. Angel and Collins talk. Father David Molina, Angel's childhood priest, comes to visit with his mother (I.E. more of Angel's past, as I see it being or should've been). Rock on, fellow readers!

NOTE: Next chapter may be the last or second last chapter. It's all coming to an end. If enough people want it, I will consider a sequel and I'm open for ideas. Maybe something lighter and more humor.