• A lone male figure wanders slowly through the dark alleyways of the city, randomly nudging garbage out of his path as he goes. It wasn't the first time he'd taken this route, and he was quite certain it wouldn't be his last.

    Much as he hated this solitary life he was forced to lead, nothing seemed to work. The gashes on his wrists from his most recent suicide attempt had only just healed, and the only thing he had to show for it was another beating from his father for being so useless.

    His mother had only watched from the side, as she always had, offering nothing more than support for his father's "arguments". "How is this a way of expressing love to your children?", he would ask, and then would promptly listen to his father's knuckles connect to his jaw.

    A cracked rib stabbed at him with every step, but he ignored it. It just might give him enough evidence to finally get away from all this, but even he knew that was little more than an idle fantasy. It wasn't easy winning a case against your father when he is the local Sherriff.

    It also reflected on him in school, the few times people would actually talk to him. These "conversations" would usually end in a strangely short fight, and he would go home to another beating from his father.

    Beyond that, he was the school's "Freak", as far as any of them seemed to care. It didn't matter to them if he were to live, die, bombs the school, or just blow his brains out. To them, he was merely a cheap sideshow for when they were bored.

    He wasn't strange-looking in the slightest, or have any strange ways of moving. What they used to define him as "Freak" was his almost frightful presence. Rooms would go deathly silent as he entered, and he used to find it entertaining.

    Now it was just another burden on his shoulders, another detail that separated him from being accepted as a "Person" amongst his peers. A can felt his sudden fury to the thought, and landed some twenty feet away. Much like himself, a useless piece of junk that was only there to be kicked around and eventually thrown away.

    This was the way things had always been for him, and nothing had ever changed. Nothing ever would for someone so useless. His coarse voice softly broke the silence.
    "In the end, it doesn't even matter. .....So why even try?"

    A question nobody cared to answer for him. If anything, they laughed as a response, occasionally referring to him as "Emo Freak" before starting another fight. A fight they always lost in a matter of seconds.

    He stepped out onto the street, another passage on his long way home. Only this time, the street wasn't empty. This he only realized when a sudden shriek of brakes was interrupted with a crunch, instantly turning the world pure black.



    Some time later, the black faded, and he found himself staring at a drop-in tile ceiling. The steady beeping of a heart monitor finally jogged his mind to where he was.

    This was the hospital, and he was both surprised and distressed to discover this. He didn't die from whatever happened, and now he'd have to face another beating from his father for wasting money on medical bills.

    But then there was something he wasn't expecting. There was a hand in his, and a head on his shoulder.

    Looking over, he recognised this one. It was the one person that didn't mock him. Instead, she watched in silence from a distance, though he never knew why.

    Was this what she was waiting for? A moment alone with him when nobody else was watching? ....But why?

    His vision continued to clear, and yet another surprise met his eyes. Two grey, feathered wings were attached to her back just beneath the shoulder blades, and fluttered for a moment before vanishing from sight.

    She looked up to him then, her deep grey eyes seeming happy for once.
    "....Hey."
    "....Hi."

    Finally something had changed for him. He had found his Guardian Angel, and Fallen or not, he was happy to have found her. At least now he knew that someone cared.