I've always been fascinated by the paranormal. My adopted parents aren't too keen on anything of that nature though. They're really religious, and they don't believe in anything I tell them. In fact, I'm not really important to them, but they keep me anyway. But I swear, everything changed when the new kid came to my school.

That's when everything changed.

Note - This will contain strong language and violence. If you're not into that sort of thing, please, don't blame me when that occurs in this story. Just stop reading.


10. Laura - Insanity Is What They Call It

"Wake up angel girl. Time to rise and shed those pretty feathers!"

The voice shocked me awake, and I scanned around. Darkness, darkness, all I saw was darkness. Dripping noises ecohed, the source unknown. I could only see from the fire from the feathers in my hair and the tips of my wings burning. But the darkness swallowed all the light I made, and then a harsh grating chuckle met my ears.

"Do you know the definition of insanity?"

The voice belonged to a short man, covered in ink up his arms and hands. His black hair was cut so it just touched his neck, and then his scorpion was never even touched. He grinned, his eyes focusing me, glaring and bearing down on me with some sort of authority.

"Bitch, I said so you know the fucking definition of insanity?!" He shouted, baring his teeth and kneeling down, grabbing my neck and forcing me to look at him. "...No." I answered quietly, and then he slapped across the face. I cried as the hand left my face, and it stung fiercely.

"Insanity, craziness or madness is a spectrum of behaviors characterized by certain abnormal mental or behavioral patterns." He says quietly, an then cackles with a grin on his face and a mad glint in his eyes. "You know, I like you. You think you're so fucking important. You think just cause there's bright burning feathers on your wings, you're a fucking angel."

His brown eyes shone brightly, and his long muscular raven black wings unfolded from his back. They were bigger and stronger than Gerard's, and they seemed to fit with his black jacket and ripped jeans. His twisted grin returned, and he bent right down so I could smell his breath, laced with alcohol and cigarettes, and feel it on my face, moist yet cold.

“I’m a fucking angel too.” He cackled after that, jumping back and drawing twin pistols. The darkness formed around him, tentacles of shadow clawing and gaining ground against the light of my pinned wings. For the first time, I tried to move and run away. But no, my arms were bound with shackles, and my ankles the same. My wings were useless, and my scythe…

“Looking for something?”

Another voice rang, this time high pitched and resembling to that of a little girl. I tried attempted to look towards where the voice was coming from, but a well-placed stamp on my stomach sent my gaze back to the black winged angel seemingly torturing me. Well, he wasn’t angelic at all.

“You only fucking look at me. I’m Dumah! The angel of death, armed with a thousand eyes and the dead themselves will answer my call! And you, I fucking told you we were not to be disturbed!”

“Sorry sir. Lyre only said that-”

“That bitch has no power over me. I saved both of you, now get the fuck out and leave me and my… Friend alone.”  His mouth twisted up a sick grin as he said the last part. Footsteps confirmed the female had left, and then Dumah returned his gaze to me.

“So… You scared yet? Your feathers say so. They’re burning fucking brighter than the sun burns now.” He asked with mock concern, kneeling down on top of me. He slid his hands up to my throat, enclosing them round with a death grip.

“I can tell you are. Your eyes are shining with fear.”  He whispered, and then kissed my neck, before I felt some teeth, ah shit! I screamed as he bit into my skin, ripping the soft tissue and letting the angry red liquid spill out onto my skin.

He smirked, and then licked the blood off, before biting again, this time biting my lip. I screamed again, god, this was bordering on…

Oh god no. No! I can’t! “Please, don’t… Leave me alone…” I begged, tears stinging at my eyes threateningly. He scowled and sent a hook across my right cheek, the rusty metal hook digging in and pulling down viciously. I screamed in pain, and that seemed to please him.

“You sadistic bastard!” I shouted, gritting my teeth and willing tears not to fall. I would not be taken this easily. I would be defiant, I would resist whatever he wanted. Sick, twisted and sadistic fantasies would not be carried out on me!

He grinned, and then grabbed a knife from his belt, and grabbed one my arms, snapping it clean out of the shackle. “I’m gonna lace your nice pretty arm with cuts. And we will see who submits first, yes?” I shook my head in defiance again, and cut a slow deliberate gash near my elbows, dragging the blade deep and slow across my arm. “Yes, we will.”

I nodded then, and he smirked and brung the blade across my wrist this time, and I felt something burst. He’d hit a vein. I screamed in pain, before I saw darkness clawing at the edge of my vision. But as it did, something clicked and changed in my torturer, and his eyes flew wide open in panic.

“NO! No, Dumah, no! I am Frank! I am not you!” he denied something, and then shouted “Lyre, Lyra, please come here now!” A pair of footsteps clattered into the room, and the same voice as before gasped. “Frank! How could you even?”

“I wasn’t me, it was him!”

“Frankie, you just can’t say that!”

“Who’s Frank…?” I muttered, and I heard gasps and felt someone touch me before the darkness finally claimed by perception.

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