A Broken Angel

Angels have been around since the beginning. Skyla has been around for 17 years. Can this 17-year-old-half-angel, beat the creators? Winning this war, could mean losing her family and her boy. Is it worth it?

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4. A mystery voice

I settled into my new life pretty well. Life in Colorado is quiet and not at all like Paris, but I've adapted and if I have to be here then here I shall be. It's been nearly two weeks since we ran but they haven't told me anything. A couple of days in, I asked mum why we left but she didn't answer and complained about me not wanting to spend time with my Grandpa. Mum was a hard target for information but Grandpa he was easier. I've already found out that it was mum's decision to leave and she did it quickly because Grandpa didn't know we were coming until she called him from the airport.

"Are you alright sweetie, you don't look yourself?"

"Oh yeah I'm fine Grandpa"

It was late Saturday morning, mum was at working at an office downtown, and I planned to spend the day with Grandpa to dig out more secrets.

"Gramps can I spend the day with you?”

"Afraid not dear, I'm going out with someone". Grandpa going out wasn't a big deal because the time I'd been here he had gone into town many times, but then I realized he was going with 'someone'".

"Oo, my Grandpa has a date, who's it with what’s her name? It is a girl right, because I'm just saying after you having mum and all..."

"Yes you, it would be a girl, but I'm just going with a friend she’s nothing more"

"Whatever you say Gramps"

As he left the kitchen, I noticed that he was walking with a slight limp, something I hadn’t seen him do before and he hadn’t given any news about how it happened. But with his age, I suppose it’s just normal to limp from time to time.

Watching Grandpa get in his car, made me realize that he had skipped out on a day of me interrogating him about their conversation and our sudden arrival, here. So mum wasn’t any use and Grandpa wasn’t today either, which means I would be left to my own devices. Back in Paris a free day of nothing, would have meant I’d go sight-seeing with my friends. Because even though my friends were Paris natives and I’d lived in Paris for 6 years, we never grew tired of pretending we were tourists, and gallivanting round Paris, up and down the Champs-Élysées and standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower and shouting we were the ‘Queens of the world!’. It never got old. But now in cold Colorado going out and standing on tall buildings wasn’t possible, because A it’s Colorado and they only have tall mountains and B its freezing.

Up in my room, a couple of minutes later, I saw the minute town, from my window. Pulling on my scarf and thick winter coat, along with a hat and gloves and boots, I walked out of the house prepared to face the winter chill. Half way down the path a strange pull around me tightened and I thought about going back, but decided against it because the town would be better than rotting my brain with TV.

Walking into the streets, I noticed that it was eerie quiet and it barely passed as a town. Yes it had a supermarket; a bank, a restaurant, some clothes shops, a cafe and an expensive looking boutique, but it was missing just one thing. People. There was no one about, but looking into the café’s window I saw that everyone was in there, gaining from the warmth. Checking if I had brought my purse, I pulled open the large heavy door and was greeted by the controlled heating. It was a nice change from the chill of outside.

Inside, half of the town must have been there, nearly all of the seats were full and the waitress was rushed off her feet. She pounced on me before I had made it to the counter. “Hello dear what can I get you?” her southern drawl was heavy in her voice, and made her stand out from the rest of the town folks. But, I coming from Paris, made me stick out like a saw thumb as well. I’d never felt self-conscious about my accent until now and it was making me feel a little uncomfortable speaking loudly to her to order my coffee.

“I’ll have one vanilla latte and a chocolate chip muffin please”

“Sit right down pet, I’ll bring it over”

“Thanks”

I sat in the corner, facing everyone and the window, so I could watch life carry on around me. It was interesting to watch all of these strangers enjoying each other’s company. Then I noticed something, no one was my age – there were no teens. Everyone in the café must have been over 30 easy, so where was everyone? School was out and even though this town can’t be huge, it’s got to have enough teenagers for a school to be built, and the fashion boutique. Because something’s telling me Grandpa and his friends aren’t interested in the latest must have mini-skirts. But come to think of it, I don’t think teenagers would want it either with the weather Colorado has all year.

“You new here love?” her drawl was present again and made listening to her, hard without picturing a farmer chewing on a piece of straw.

“Erm… yes I am, me and my mum have moved in with my Grandpa”

“No! Your Bill’s grandkid, now I see the family resemblance. Well its nice ol’Bill has family near him especially in the winter”

“Erm …. Yes I suppose it is,” I smile at her and she walks away.

Finishing my latte and muffin, I stand up and head towards the door.

“Bye Hon, say hi to Bill for me” says the waitress

I say yes and realize that I don’t even know her name. In fact I don’t know anyone’s name around her, so that’s got to change. Something in my head is telling me to turn around; I don’t know if it’s my gut or just my brain telling me to leave. So I turn around slowly and look out of the window

There he is. The Airport man. He’s across the street watching me. No don’t be silly he’s watching the café. Wait why is he even here? Is it him? Of course it isn’t. As I make my way towards the door, he stares hardly at me, as if trying to turn me to stone, and then I see for certain it’s him.

“Stay inside, if you want to stay safe Skyla”

What! The voice it’s different this time, but definitely present in my head because no one else seems to have noticed that the man is outside, giving me and the cafe a long hard glare. I move towards the door, totally ignoring the voice.

“I said stay inside! I won’t tell you again. I can handle this”

Handle what? There is nothing to handle, spinning on the spot to see if anyone else has noticed the man, I balance myself and gaze again at the window. No one is there. He’s gone.

Saying bye to the waitress, I push the door open and feel the sudden change in temperature. I look up the street and down, no sign of the mysterious man.

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