AND THEN THE ANGEL FELL
It was as if, even now, the earth wanted to drag him under its skin, talons of stones gripped at his boots, as he stood there, calling him under to its depths. But still he stood, daring the monster to overcome him and take him to his pit. He seemed not to notice the growling of the ground as he stood on the west side of the soccer pitch, on that thin strip of cement that waved paths around the large patch of turf, so students could access the portables for their lessons, normally used for room changes, maintenance problems, or just for the unlucky kids. Thus the area was neither busy nor desolate. Everybody passed them at least once or twice a day, whether or not intending to rest there or not. But that didnt matter, he wasnt here for the rest of the students body's sake. He was here for Becky, his love. It perhaps seemed ridiculous to be standing there now after so long, but then again, it had only been four days, and in those four days, not including the first, he hadnt been in. He had simply vanished as soon as news hit, supposedly him first, before hysteria had struck the school. He had remembered running, but even then he had been dragged back by that of the ghost of his coat pulling him backwards in the wind, but he had run onwards. Muscle had propelled him further and outside, over the soccer pitch to where he had skidded to a halt, and remained in silence. But that was then, and this was now, and still he had not cried for the Beauty. Not once, even some of his friends had begun to become curious of him, but the fact was. He couldn't. There were no more tears to shed from these eyes. No more. The remembrance of crying, reminded him of the night she had died. Monday 29th May 2009. The date was already there in his head, like it had been for several months before hand, it had needed to be, for Becky he had remembered it.

It had been raining as he had waited outside the school gates, it was late and in the light the rain shone green, and nothing could have been more perfect for his princess as he saw her descending the front steps of the school, her eyes on him as she approached in that walk of hers. Her lips had been in that of a small smile as she had curled her arms around his neck and lifted herself to kiss him on the lips, before she had took his hand and led him on, he could do nothing but yield against her bidding. She had always had that control over him, "Love made men into puppies", but she was so much more and so was he. The school had no one around, everyone had gone home, including that of any caretakers who always left last. Such stupidity not to lock the gates, but it was all part of the plan that had been set out since the very beginning, there were no lights except from that of the moon, and the rain that made her eyes shine. She had always adored the rain, and in time he found it pleasing also, but never adored as much as he adored Becky, I it was a apart of her, but herself was much purer to his tastes.
She had led him to the back of one of the portable cabins, as expected, and her pale skin gleamed in the soft light, pricked with rain drops that produced rainbows on her skin, no doubt his own glittered, but his eyes were on her, as he kissed her, leaning her into the wall of one of the cabins, a hand had again wrapped itself around his neck, another by his chest as they closed their eyes in the cold rain. Nothing was said or spoken in the tender act, yet a stone shone on the Beauties hand. A ring, had he proposed? Tentative, he had kissed the angels forehead, her own hands wrapped around him as she pulled him close. This was there last dance together in the rain, the last goodbye.
She had always been too good for this life, and they together made it that they could not be together forever, not here. Just by knowing what he would have to do to accomplish the end result of unity, made it dangerous for them to be together, but necessary for what was next to happen. He hoped he would be forgiven, taking his own life and hers, for her to live a better life, where she was worth, and by taking her life and dangerously walking the line of condemning his own would meet the ultimate end, where they could be together.

Perhaps that's how the fascinating obsession with knives came from, from their lessons to teach each other not to feel pain, for that very night. He could remember the time where she would brutally drag her fingernails down his back, drawing thick lines of blood, how it had stung, but he had to bear it amongst other tortures, as did she, which in the end they were both grateful and scorning. When you could feel no pain, shed no tears, came as frustrating, and highly hard to hurt you. And this was the whole point, all for the day of the death. Sick? No, they did it for love, twisted?...perhaps. So when she did indeed run her hands over his chest and back for what would be the very last time, he tried to feel it, yet ignore it at the same time, as did she, unaware that they were both in effect, ripping each other to pieces, slowly. But despite the blood
on himself, it was that of Becky's, he would try to spare, after all after that night, she would have
shed more than he would from just her touch. But then there was that one then, where she
flicked a nail up his throat, drawing blood, as her nail chipped the edge of his chin, cutting a blood line from his collar bone to the end of his chin. It was then that he moved closer within the time stepping closer also, he would be the one for his "future-wife's" life to be taken by, not time, as she held onto him closer once more. Rain was hitting his back hard, stinging his wounds with each drop. His hands went behind Becky's back to hold her, as she reached up, liek she had in the beginning to let their heads touch, as she moved her lips softly over to his ear, the first words in what seemed hours left her rain stained lips

"I love you"

she had whispered, before she had kissed him. It was then, that he felt the pale Beauty go limp, as his arm caught her as she fell from grace, as her lips pressed into that of a smile, green orbs closed away from the Beast who now laid her on the ground, in silent mourning. He had looked up at the sky, blinking heavy rain from from his vision, to reveal the blurred outcast of the cloudy sky, as rain fell on he and his love, before he stood, now only a black coated figure, as he turned his back on the corpse, two knives sticking out from the pale angels abdomen. Pure blood had begun to spread and leave evidence, as well as wash away others with the rain, as he had walked away. Feeling no regret. He had asked what Becky had asked him to do. He had done it for her, despite his own heavy heart.

He still remained, looking in the direction of the crime scene, the wind had died, and the sky had lightened a little, not that he paid no heed to its hue, as he blinked out of his daydream, as he turned his head slightly to watch an overalled man duck under the tap, who caught his eye, but said nothing, as he stood on the other side and walked over to one of the other employee's and began to talk to him, before he walked off behind the portable in question. Zaniel looked up to the sky, as the light shone down on his features, as he closed his eyes, it was comical how a few nights before it had been raining cats and dogs, and now it was as sunny as anything. The heavens were praising him in his grief, as he let a small smile spread over his lips from what seemed a long time since, no, it was Becky.

Today was Thursday June 1st. It seemed strange by seeing two different months that you instantly the best part of a month had gone by, let alone just around four days. It just didnt seem fair. He looked back down again as the smile slipped away from his face as he looked back down towards the crime scene. The blue and white tape surrounding it nearby was so intrusive, and he wanted to destroy it, but that would only gather unwanted attention. He didnt trust his feet, if he moved he would most likely duck or jump over the tape and barge his way through easily, the man had hard muscle, you could tell from the way he carried himself and the way he stood. As if he were made of ice, body and soul.

Someone would have to drag him away from where he stood, he couldnt do it himself, he just couldn't pull himself away. He almost seemed unaware of all the things around him, as he remained looking over at the portables, he could not recall how long, nor what the time was now, only now and then would those grey orbs close before they would open again onto the same spot. Nobody seemed to bother the coated figure, as if he were indeed a ghost himself, and in parts he wished he were. Gently he sighed into the wind, as muscle moved in his cheek as his lips parted for air. A hand slipped into his black coat pocket as he pulled out a cigarette before he lit it, ignoring it as it wavered before it simmered the white stick now perched in his mouth. Dirt of the devil, he was worth the pain afterall. Though becoming dirty would surely jeopardise his chances. He knew that, but he had granted a wish, and a wish was no sin in the eyes of Heaven, or so he believed.

He watched as signed men walk on the other side of the border, so much like his own life, in a way, he was always 'on the other side' of life, coincidence really, no, it was done on purpose to spite him. He bit the cancer stick lightly, as his eyes watched the back of a white
overalled man, who was seemingly sweeping the place for any marks. The place was clean. Zaniel Niouhre Acardio knew this for several reasons, a few he'd rather keep to himself and others obvious to his eyes. The movements of the white man were obvious, he could find no evidence, no speck of tiny evidence or fingerprints, other than those normal to find on a young girl. It was clear, by the amount of times the man had gone over the place with a comb. He could see it in the mans eyes, he wasnt it seemed a man of God, thus he could not see the answer that was staring him right in the face, foolish man.

It had been early when he had arrived, somewhere between second or first period it seemed, but he cared not much for time. He was still grieving for Becky, like any man should do. It seemed to be the hour break, and he could hear laughter and talking, hushed whispers and shouting, as students started to make their way outside for their hour of freedom. Zaniel breathed in smoke, he didn't care if he wasn't allowed to do so so freely, he had his reasons in doing so, and in a considerable bad mood if anyone told him otherwise would undoubtedly form. Through smoke he could see the disgust in the investigation team members eyes, but again he ignored them, as he stood there waiting, waiting for anyone who he would manage to remember to pull him along with them.

He had done it for her and he was back.