My Beautiful Rotting Angel


I was only 17 when it first happened. I was looking up to the roof of our apartment building where a girl no older than I was standing. I watched as she calmly stared into the night sky. I could have sworn she was an angel, flying away… Flying? No, falling. She was falling. Her body hit the pavement with a sickening thud as it contorted into a mess of red and pink on the sidewalk. The air felt especially cold that night. Had I been only on the roof of that building, I could have met her as the human she once was, but instead, we locked eyes as the life slowly drained from her mangled corpse. I didn’t cry, no. I was too shocked at that moment. Something made it different than the times before when my parents, brothers, and sister had met the same fate. If ghosts really do exist, would that mean they haunt the streets?
All of the adults in my life lost hope in me after the day my feelings went away. My only friends were the echoes in my head telling me things I’ve heard all too often. I didn’t even go to school anymore. Nearly every one of my days were spent in the feeling of nothingness. And when I did feel something, it was only a brief and fleeting feeling of pain radiating through every nerve in my neglected body. People say that drugs can take the pain away, but I couldn’t even be bothered to try them. Just save the pills for the next person, right.



“I don’t know what caused this feeling… or the lack of feeling, I suppose. I don’t know what I did wrong. Mom and dad stopped talking to me less than a week ago. I honestly kind of expected the opposite, considering I was their last child. Maybe the pain of their last son had gotten to them after a few weeks. I haven’t even seen them talk to each other since they stopped talking to me. Us three are coexisting in this old disheveled house, as time slowly creeps along.”

“I wish god was real. Maybe he can help me… us. My parents and I. It’s lonely here by myself.”