Angels Don't Have Wings, Darling

Inspired by CW's Supernatural | Her brother is dying. And she has every reason to blame herself for the accident, which made her desperate. It made her believe in such things as karma, the devil and God himself, while not being nowhere near religious before. When the doctors tells her, he probably only have about a month left, she starts praying. Perhaps more due to symbolic meanings, but who would've thought that an actual angel would show up on her front door?

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3. Prayers and Expectations

  “It has to be karma.”

  It just had to.

  Or just the hangover.

  But nevertheless I actually made myself do it. Since four days have passed, and if words such as god, faith and pray, could kill a person, then we would be extinct by now. So out of irritation, I goddam ate their words.

  “How the hell do they do this?” I asked, looking at my hands. It seemed so ridiculously easy to just ask for help, but when you finally sat down and opened your heart to the man upstairs, then you realize that what could you possibly say to make him understand?

  At first I got to admit I did this as a joke. I sarcastically told him to move his lazy ass from his cloud and work his magic. I told him to screw himself. I even went to the point where I started to threaten the man upstairs to death.

  I took a deep breath and moved in the bed, facing the ceiling.

  “Okay, God or whoever might listen up there…” I bit my lip but refused to move my eyes away from the ceiling as if I actually made eye contact with someone. “- my brother he… He’s dying. He’s nowhere near okay, and it’s my fault. I am the reason behind this, and I’m sorry for giving my responsibility to someone else who might not even exist. But please,” I was tearing up at this point but I still chose to speak. “- I was the one controlling the car, I’m the guilty one, not him, and now he has to pay the price. I know that I'm just one person, and that millions of other people, ask for your help, too. I have nothing to offer, I know, but if you are that holy and almighty, Christians say you are, then I know that you are listening at least."

  I don’t know how long my crying lasted, but I just knew that it had come to the point where felt so dry in my mouth that my brain told me that it could only be fixed with another drink.

  As I opened the beer, I looked in the mirror and that my running mascara had turned me into a raccoon. But at this point I didn’t care. Normally I would’ve made a run towards the bathroom to fix it, but really? Wouldn't it be respect-less?

  And no. There were no answer from above, which told me that praying was only a one-sided conversation.

  “Okay…” I said offended, picking up my phone. “-Lets make a deal, shall we? If my brother is improved now, then sure… you and your fluffy wings exist, and if not? Then you guys owe me one.” One-sided conversations…

  Then I called the hospital and told the usual crap, to make them understand that I wanted to know about Lucas’s health.

  “Well miss, we do everything we can.”
“Meaning?” Pause. I told her after awhile to explain, what ‘everything they could’ meant. Asked wether it was good enough or not, or if it was just some ridiculous statement. She just cut me off, saying she was sure that there was room for improvement. And after I

’patiently’ waited 30 seconds, she admitted he was getting worse.

  “Okay, it’s okay I um-“ I was shaking my head as to find meaning in her words. How am I going to be a optimist about this now?

  “I’m sorry miss Lancaster-“ She was probably going to say something encouraging but I cut her off apologizing. “I’m sorry doctor but I gotta go.” I doubted that she believed me but nevertheless hung up.

  Did I ever mention that Lucas was in coma at moment at the age of only 19? No?

  Lucas, an idiot, but a smart one. Always trying to impress even people who generally didn’t care about him. The one who had to watch his sister getting hospitalized due to alcohol four times. That idiot who cared too much, and the one who got me away from drinking, something others couldn’t make me, while he was only 17. 

  “God if you exist, then let me tell you that-“ the doorbell interrupted my monologue, and at first I refused to answer it.

  But the bell kept screaming again and again, you’d think the person was dying out there.

  And when I opened the door, I saw a man - a good-looking one - around my own age.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m here to answer your prayers.” I dropped the beer in my hand at that comment. The guy squeezed his eyes confused at my reaction, but I ignored it, as I sighed rather pissed.

  “You got to be kidding me.”

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