Undone by a Broken Angel

3.) Pain and Answers

“Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and courageous.  Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

-Joshua 1:9

I pull pebbles out of my poor feet, but they're not that bad considering the circumstances.  I try to keep a straight face as I pluck them out and I'm surprised it's not causing them to bleed more.  Jack looks at them and scowls, but doesn't say anything.  I put my feet back down and pull on my new shoes, but then I'm suddenly in a memory I almost repressed from long ago:

The floor is cold and sticky.  I don't ever remember it being clean.  I shiver involuntarily as an older boy runs past me, a wave of chilly air rushing behind him.  I pull my thin tunic closer to me and try to hold my limbs closer to my body.

Why am I so alone?

The big kids don't notice me, but the bigger girls do.  They like to hold me and sing me songs and hold me close at night.  I don't know where they are now.  Sometimes the big men take them away.  I hate it when they do.  The older girls always cry afterwards and when they're sad, so am I.

I don't like the big men.  They scare me.  They like to watch me play.  Sometimes they try to play with me, but the older girls stop them.  I'm glad the older girls are here.

But where are they?

They usually aren't gone for so long.  Another boy runs by me and I have to try and not cry from the cold.  I hear one of the tiny babies begin wailing.  I get up to see what's wrong.  My bare feet stick to the cold floor as I travel from one room to the next.  The crying gets louder.  A big kid knocks me over running to get to the baby.  I know him.  He's the baby's older brother.  Do I have a brother or sister somewhere?

"Abby!" a girl's voice calls for me.

I look over and see one of the nice older girls and cry from joy.  Where did she go?

"I'm so sorry,  Abby.  You must have been scared, my Angel.  Come.  You must come with me.  There are people here."

People?  I've never seen people here before.  The big men like to hide me away when people come.

She takes my hand and pulls me towards the stairs to go downstairs.

"Where do you think you are going?" a deep voice yells after us.  It's a big man.

I cling to the older girl.

"Give her to me!" he yells.

They fight over me, but when he hits her, she lets go and suddenly I'm in his arms.  I cry, scream, and kick, but he's too strong.  He closes me up in a wardrobe and I hear the lock click.

Then it was quiet.  At least it was warmer.

I was alone for what seemed like hours until I heard footsteps coming into the room.

"Open the wardrobe," a stern woman's voice commands.

I can hear them argue.  The woman is getting angry.  Finally, the doors open and I see a room full of people.  The lady in charge, the big men, all the big kids, and two new faces I've never seen before, stand in the room waiting for me to climb out.  They were smiling.

"Hello, Sweetie," the woman said.  "What is your name?"

"A-Abby," I answer.

"Is that short for Abigail?" the man beside her asked.

I nod.

They looked at each other and smiled.

"Hey, you okay?" Jack asks me, pulling me back to the present.  

I try to shake off the memory as tears sting my eyes.  I almost forgot what the orphanage used to be like.  I nod.  "So, can you please explain to me what is going on?"

He looks anxious for a moment, but agrees to tell me everything further down the road.  We stand and start on what will most likely be a long journey.  I haven’t been outside the ballroom for several years, so naturally, I look at my surroundings.  The hillsides are beautiful, not just because of the colors, but because of the shapes, the light, and the sounds.  The sweetest sounds are the birds singing- they have lovely voices and it keeps my mind off of my aching body.  Walking is painful.  My legs start to burn, and soon after so does my lower stomach. The sun beats down on my pale skin and I wonder if I’ll get burned.  But all this is second to my racing mind and the questions that plague me.  I don’t want to bother him with them, but at the same time, I deserve to know the truth.  I trusted him to take me on this journey and I don’t want to be led into danger just because he’s like me.

“Mr. McKinley, what am I?”  I ask, trying to hide my frustration.  I’m getting an emotional overload from leaving home and then I get lost in childhood memories.  I’m not sure I can pile on anymore turmoil, but I need to know what I am.

He can read the frustration on my face, I know he can.  I can see him trying to formulate an explanation and I realize this can’t be easy for him, so I let him think.  When he finally speaks, he tells it to me straight.  “You are a member of a force God created to destroy a group of beings Satan created.  We call them reapers.  We are falcone, mortal angels.”

“Mortal angels?”  He expects me to believe him?  Is he crazy?  “Yeah...”

The wind rushes through the trees as his words sink in.  If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Father wanted me to learn everything I could about God, but at the same time I refused to believe that God would keep me prisoner for so long.  He wouldn’t have put me in the orphanage in the first place to witness all the suffering that took place there.  I refuse to suffer as Joseph did in Genesis.

“You can believe me when you want.  Keep in mind that Satan’s army won’t wait for you.  You have wings; we have wings.  I know it’s the best explanation you’ve ever gotten, if not the only one.” he says matter of factly.  

“You’re telling me a fantasy story,” I breathe, but he’s right.  No one has ever given me an explanation.  When Mother and Father looked at me, it was with fear, and the nonacceptance cut me so deep that I rejected the Hebrew God that Father force fed me.  If this were to be true, that would mean what?  That I’d have to accept Father’s love the same as God’s?

“Do you not believe in God?”

“I absolutely do-I just don’t believe that his love is the love I’ve been needing,” I reply crossly.

“God loves you whether you choose to feel it or not,” he snaps, but then composes himself.  “The Bible speaks of war.  Physical and spiritual.  There is another plane that angels fight, but we were born to fight on the physical one- against the reapers.”

“War?”

“We’re always fighting one,” he says sadly.  His steps don’t slow, but he falters a little and I have to wonder what he’s been through.

“So what?  I’m a mortal angel born of earth with a purpose of hunting down and killing reapers?”  I ask with acid in my voice. 

“No,” he says seriously, “they’re hunting us.”

A shiver runs up my spine.

“When I was little, we hid underground in fear, not knowing when we’d have the freedom of the sky again.  Now there are just five of us, six including you, and we fight extinction everyday.”  There is real sadness in his eyes and I can see the pain and tiredness he holds.  He shows me the weapons he carries under his cloak and I cannot deny that he uses them- I can see it in the way he stands and the way he holds them as though they are an extension of who he is.

“Okay,” I say.  I don’t need to fight with him on this.  For now, I’ll travel with him.  For now I’ll let him guide me to my people.