The Fallen Angels Captives

Sunlight streamed gently through the thin gap in my curtains, warm and golden. I blinked awake, groggy, my eyes heavy as I turned my head toward the red glow of my alarm clock through slitted eyes. My eyes flew wide open when I saw it was half seven. My alarm had failed to go off, which made me now half an hour late for work. I bolted upright, the sudden movement sending my sheets twisting around my legs. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I nearly dropped it in my rush. Five missed calls. It was Melissa, who was both my best friend and work partner. My bedroom was small but cozy—and, ok, a little messy too—seemed to close in on me as I scrambled out of bed. The warm purple walls glowed in the morning light, accented with gold that shimmered faintly where the light touched them. My double bedsheets were a matching purple and white, half pulled off the mattress, and the gold curtains stirred gently with a breeze from the slightly open window. I quickly went over and closed it. Staring at myself in the reflection of my wardrobe mirror, I sighed. I would never be slim, tall, or long-legged like a model the way Melissa was. No, five foot two, I was on the bigger side and curvy, soft in all the places society loved to pretend didn’t exist. My deep brown doe eyes—Melissa loved them— stared back at me, but I found them dull. Along with my simple, medium-length, straight black hair. My skin was as dark as a starless night, glowed faintly in the sunlight, smooth and unblemished. Objectively I knew I wasn’t ugly. I had warm doe eyes, a button nose, and perfect Cupid’s bow lips, I had no confidence, though. Guys always wanted Melissa. Blonde, blue-eyed, effortless—like she’d stepped out of some heavenly painting. I was always left sitting alone in the corner of a pub, even on a double date, because the guys would usually end up fighting over Melissa, trying to impress her. And the worst part? I loved that look too, blonde, blue-eyed; it reminded me of angels, and I wanted my own angel. I was Catholic and a virgin, which I could only imagine further hindered me in trying to find a man. Most men weren’t exactly lining up for ‘reserved and awkward’ when ‘wild and fun’ was sitting right beside me, flipping her hair and stealing every spotlight without even trying. I shook myself from my dark thoughts and hurriedly pulled on a simple white T-shirt and jeans. My hair got scraped back messily into a low ponytail, strands already escaping before I’d even finished tying it. Make-up? Yeah, no chance, screw the make-up. I grabbed my keys and raced out the door. The morning air hit me the second I stepped outside—cool, fresh, carrying the faint scent of damp pavement and early traffic. The sky was pale, streaked with soft clouds, the kind of calm morning that felt almost mocking considering the chaos I was currently living in. Jumping into my car, my fingers tapped impatiently on the wheel as I pulled out. I tried to get to work as fast as I could without breaking any speeding limits; every red light felt damn personal. When I parked up in the staff parking lot, my heart was already racing. I threw the car into park, shoved the door open, and jumped out. I slammed it so fast my hair ended up trapped between it. “Are you serious right now?!” I hissed to myself. A couple of passersby snickered as I flailed, trying to find the door handle without ripping myself bald. Panic and humiliation burned hot across my face. When I was finally free, I raced up the stairs of my work building and never had a chance to calm my heated cheeks from the hair incident because my feet chose that moment to somehow wrap around themselves, making me land almost face-first into the stairs if it weren't for someone yanking me back just in time. "Really, Destiny,” came a familiar voice, warm with laughter. “Still as clumsy as you were when you were five.” "What? Me? Never. It's mother's fault for not shooting me out fast enough at birth. Starved my brain of oxygen for too long,” I mock scowled. Melissa laughed harder, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Keep sticking with that story, Des. We all believe it." Melissa made her way back to her office chair, and I tried to hide behind her. Unfortunately, Mrs. Denfold, our boss, still caught sight of me. With her gray hair pinned into a loose bun, glasses perched precisely on the bridge of her nose, and those ice-cold green eyes, I could have sworn she worked as the devil's right-hand man...or woman. Those piercing green eyes had a way of striking right through your own eyes and down to your very soul. At least, that's what I told myself when fear hit my chest and my heart started to pound as I sheepishly made my way past our endearing boss. My grandma had always told me people with green eyes were a little mad in the head anyways. I slunk down quietly into my chair beside Melissa and got to typing on my computer. Opening it up, I saw a new case for us to look into. I leaned forward in my chair, It was a case of apparent demonic possession. Yeah, that's right. I didn't have an ordinary life. Nope, both Melissa and I had always been interested in everything supernatural. We had learned, read, and watched so many things that somewhere along the way, curiosity turned into knowledge, and knowledge into something dangerously close to expertise. Demonology. Whenever something out of the ordinary happened, it was us that friends and family and eventually, strangers came to for help and explanations. To be honest, more often than not we would find something completely normal, but not always. Word must have gotten around because one day our boss had come along and offered us a job to investigate the paranormal and supernatural. Only catch was it was top secret, as in don't tell your friends, your family, no one, or you might possibly die, green piercing eyes your last sight before you left this earth. Ok, ok, I was exaggerating, at least I think I was. All I knew was that it was secret; after all, nobody believed in or knew about werewolves, vampires, etc, existing. Our company had their own cleaning crew, so if people kept complaining why there was no proof? That was why. I had seen for myself how genius they were. Literally, no trace would be left of a supernatural body or CCTV images...nothing, and that's the way Mrs. Denfold liked it. “In ninety-nine percent of cases,” I murmured, scanning the file, “demonic possessions are usually nothing more than some form of mental health issue.” "Yeah, but we still have to check them out,” Melissa said. I glanced sideways at her, a small grin forming. “Want to check it out ourselves?” Melissa grinned back at me, excitement in her eyes. "Wouldn't dare miss an invitation to meet the devil."