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Angel Wings

Part One

The screech of tires on the gravel driveway made Tor glance down from her perch on the rooftop’s ledge. She grimaced as yet another group of people arrived to join the night’s festivities; a party planned by Damien, her sister’s, Laura’s, boyfriend. The loud music Damien had chosen could be heard throughout the house, driving Tor to the roof as a way of preserving her sanity. She sat up there now, her feet dangling over ledge into nothingness, and it seemed as if one nudge would send her over the edge.
“It would be so easy to jump,” she said with a sigh. Too wrapped up in her own thoughts, Tor hadn’t heard the roof’s access door open and shut with a quiet click, nor had she heard the almost inaudible steps heading toward her. The silent figure had caught the words Tor had spoken, and made a calm reply.
“It’s easy to jump and stop the pain, but it isn’t worth it.” Eric spoke as if he had run through that speech with others, maybe himself, many times before. Tor had spotted his profile in her peripheral vision, but she made no move to turn and face him.
“I haven’t jumped before, and I certainly won’t jump now,” was her curt reply, dismissing Eric with her brusque attitude. Eric took a few steps toward her, getting close just in case she did decide to end her life. His relaxed pose and casual way of standing was contradicted by the wariness in the icy blue eyes he fixed on Tor’s back.
“Could you just step away from the edge, please? You may not be contemplating suicide, but I’d feel a bit better if you came back inside with me. Plus, it’s a bit slippery up here.” Tor gave no reply, nor did she stand. Eric gave a weary sigh and stood closer to her. “Why aren’t you down at the party with Laura?”
“Why aren’t you with Jackie?” Tor shot back, glancing over her shoulder at him as she spoke. Her gaze caught his for a second and held before she turned back around.
“It’s not my thing. Too many freaks, not enough circuses,” he replied, smirking. “Plus, I’m a bit sick.” Tor just shook her head and looked down at the packed driveway.
“Let’s just say it isn’t my thing either, and leave it at that…”
“Then why don’t you come back inside with me, and we can watch a movie or something? My room is in a quiet part of the house, and it’s certainly safer than being up here.” Tor hesitated for a moment; this was the same boy who had called her a whore when he had first met her, and now he was asking to spend some time with her? She thought of the party going on below them and grimaced at the thought of being in the same room with those people, much less interact with them.
“All right…” Tor said finally as she stood and took one last glance down before she spun round on her heel, but she slipped and lost her footing. Eric’s arm snaked out and wrapped around Tor’s waist, yanking her against his chest before she could tumble backwards over the edge.
“Are you all right?” He glanced down at her face as he spoke. Tor’s hands gripped the front of his shirt in panic as her mind whirled, and she clung to Eric for a moment as she tried to regain her composure.
“I-I’m fine,” she said weakly, flashing him a too bright smile. Her hands shook slightly and Tor’s face looked pale, making her dark eyes a sharp contrast to the alabaster complexion the fear had created. Eric’s keen eye took this all in with one glance, and he pointed toward the door as he tried not to let his panic-driven anger lash out.
“In. Now.” He practically growled at her, and Tor just nodded dazedly as she walked on shaky legs toward the door.
“T-thanks,” she said softly before she walked inside. Watching as Tor retreated into the shelter of the house, Eric hung back for a minute as he tried to regain some sort of control.
“Damn girl…I don’t know if I want to strangle her, or-” his angry mutterings were cut short as he felt a searing pain in his throat. Eric brought a hand up to cover his mouth as he coughed, the coughs adding more pain to his already abused body. The pain faded gradually, and Eric pulled his hand away to stare at the flecks of blood dotting his palm with a look grim resignation on his face. He gave a heavy sigh and wiped the evidence of his relapse on the inside of his pants pocket. Eric’s fingers brushed over the bottle of pills he carried in case something like that happened, thinking, Why did it have to happen tonight? as he walked in after Tor.

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Eric glanced at the movie once in a while, not really paying attention. He was more interested in the girl sitting next to him, engrossed in the film. Tor looked ready jump at the slightest sound, her eyes glued to the gruesome murder scene playing out before her eyes. He debated poking her side to scare her, but he just shook his head and turned away. Beads of sweat collected at his brow, slithering down Eric’s face and sliding down his neck. He stood and grabbed the hem of his shirt in both hands, pulling it off as a weak attempt to fight the heat. Tor tore her gaze away from the screen, her eyes sliding over Eric’s tattoo in awe. She stood and trailed a finger down his back, tracing the image of wings that started on Eric’s shoulder blades and ended at his hips.
“ ‘In God We Trust’.” Tor, muttering under her breath, read aloud the words that lay just under his neck as she traced them with her fingertips. Her eyes trailed lower, spotting some script on the small of Eric’s back, designed to look like someone’s handwriting, framed by the wingtips. “ ‘But I Don’t’ …what’s this?”
Eric looked over his shoulder at Tor, giving her a grim smile as he felt her fingers play lightly across his back. She traced one of the feathers etched on his skin, staring at the fragile and realistic tattoo.
“These are my Angel wings,” he replied, chuckling. It took Tor a moment to get the joke, her hands stilling their movement as she thought for a second.
“Oh…Eric Angel, Angel wings, cute…but what do the words mean?”
Sighing, Eric looked down at the floor and huddled into himself instinctively, like he always did when he felt uncomfortable.
“Well…everyone believes God can save their souls and erase their sins. They’re wrong.” He clenched his fists as he made himself remember the past. “I didn’t have your stereotypical childhood when I was growing up. Instead of the white picket fence, I had one with barbed wire running through the top, and my parents cared more about scoring their next fix than taking care of me. I turned to Him many times, but not once did He answer my prayers.”
“Sometimes prayers just can’t be answered,” Tor said quietly as her fingers idly traced the haunting words on the tattoo. “Or maybe those things were just meant to happen. Life’s kind of like a big game of dice; it’s all up to chance, luck, fate, and whatever else you want to call it."
“Yeah, but when your luck runs out you end up where I’m already destined to go." Eric looked back down at the floor. “Straight to hell," he said calmly.
Tor moved until she stood in front of Eric, lifting his face gently so she could look him in the eyes. “No one's luck truly runs out, you know. You aren’t going to hell."
“You don’t really know me Tor. You don’t know what I have done to get this far in life. With all the sins I’ve committed, I’m going to end up in the deepest depths of hell.”
He sighed and headed toward the door. “God wouldn’t save me, and He definitely isn’t going to erase my sins…”
Eric stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the knob of the open door. “Tor, God has turned His back on me, so I’ve turned my back on Him,” he whispered before walking away.