#angel rambles

“Good evening, if you need any help please let me know.” you say without even looking up from the screen. The figure nodded, or at least that’s what you think that was, you only saw the tip of his hoodie.

You expected him to go his way, look around. Yet he stood above you, very menacingly. Aw man. Unwillingly you looked up, coming face to face with the guy. Well face to face was a strong word, you could barely see his eyes.

He was wearing white hoodie, he stood tall, his figure shielding you from the lights.

You couldn’t help but notice his dark hair, stiff, sticking out here and there. He didn’t even stand that close but his shitty cologne stung, it made you teary eyed.

“..Do yall have Meteora by Linkin Park?” he said, voice ragged, nails on chalkboard.

“Mm yes actually.” You got up, trying to ignore the menacing stare of the guy behind you. “We usually have a lot of their albums in stock, if we don’t have something- well that sucks dude but we have fast deliveries."

A dry laugh. “They pay you to say that?”

“Yes actually,” You handed him the CD, “anything else?”

“No.”

So talkative. “Fair enough, if you follow me we can process your payment.” You swiftly returned to your little safe space. The guy placed a few bills on the counter and just walked out. Before your brain registered what the fuck happened he was already gone.

“Damn, he actually left too much..” hehe it’s yours now..

✮⋆˙

You like ordinary, you like something that screams, no personality! no soul! empty!

Your fingers grip the butcher knife.

Evenings were rough some days, yet the routine never changed.

The wound in your arm throbbed, making you involuntarily shake the hands. Head almost light from the loss of blood. That fucker shot you, you have no idea how he even manged to see you, then as if nothing he returned home. Fucking bastard.

Being so ordinary meant that no one really wanted to get to know you deeper, fair by you. You don’t like having people around, they turn up dead sooner or later.

Your footing is light, careful. Stepping slowly to make sure the floor wouldn’t betray you. The man, you think Steve was his name, sat in a dark room. White man, in his late 20s, slightly overweight. The information clung to the back of your head, useless, until you needed to weigh down your options.

Sneaking around came like a second nature, you have been doing this for so long you can remember. You don’t even realise how quickly you are standing behind him, eyes glancing onto his screen. A chat room.

Ah. He shot you because he thought you were a deer apparently, and wanted to spill your guts on his ex-girlfriend's porch. Cute. You leaned in and slit his throat. He was shocked, because he turned around to face you, he tried to scream only to hiccup and gurgle. Blood spilling. Before he fell forward with a thud, the blood got on your shoes.

Finally, it didn’t take as long as you thought. Maybe if you hurry you can fall t in front of your car. The ground would soak up your blood and you wouldn’t have to clean shit.

“There you go, feeding time.” you finally mumbled, watching the darkness spread from the corner of his room before a huge arm pulled the limp body towards it with a satisfied growl.

The laptop was still open, glowing faintly.

You stumbled out of the room, losing the knife somewhere in the process. The walls stretched and shrunk. You were losing too much blood.

Then your limp body fell to the ground. You had no idea how long you were actually laying in your own blood. The faint sweet scent of metal burning the back of your throat. You hope this will go faster, you have shit to do.

You heard the door open, slowly, a few footsteps quickly spreading through the first floor before going up. Ah, at least you were close to the stairs.

Finally the silence cracked.

“F-Fuck- we can’t f-fuh find the guy but we have this w-weirdo.”

“Don’t touch, maybe they are his partner. Judging by the state of the room both of them are dead.”

Dead? You fucking wish.

“This is the third time this month,” a gruff voice sighed. “You think it will let this one go too?”

“I can’t be certain, I still am unsure if he let the other three cases go because we are over our quota or he had a good day.”

“A good day huh?”

“P-Pretty.. too bad you are dead” a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

You felt fingers brush your hair. You wish you could roll over and slap their hand away. Scaring the shit out of them in the process, alas you lost too much blood. So you laid, unmoving, going cold. The process is too familiar, easy to ignore.

“Toby fucking hell, don’t touch them.”

“Ow,” he whined “Don’t h-hit me Timmy, I have done no wrong”

“Let’s move, we have another target, this one is on the run..”

The conversation finally thinned out, warm darkness embraced you. You let it.

It was morning by the time you woke up, warm sunrise tickled your face. You got up stretched, dusted off your hands only to realise your clothes have been soaked in your own blood.

You sighed looking at the small digital clockwork on your wrist.

“Shit, I am going to be late for work.” is what you mumbled first after rising from the dead, before adding “Fuck! they took his wallet!”