Fallen Angels: A Fictional Narrative

“I don’t know,” Bass mumbles. “Hasn’t been here since sometime yesterday, thought she went home.”

From his car, he watched as the officers headed furtively into the building, one through the exit Evan had made of the storefront’s window, the other

“No, and the police is preventing anyone from landing too close. Buckhead’s your brother’s district, right? Think he might be here?”

Rain drizzled down onto them and inundated their bodies, clothing and all. They didn’t bother to move out of the way, they simply stayed in one place, both shivering only slightly. The body heat between them kept them from getting too cold and shivering more, but it was clear that there was a chilly tension between the two bodies. They seemed to have this unspoken pain between them that caused a sense of need and desperation. They needed to be touching but after everything that had happened between them, they just couldn’t seem to hold each other in a grip that fit, in a grip that felt right like it had only days before. Their bodies were no longer suitable together, they were no longer molded together to fit perfectly. Their bodies, both physically and mentally, had separated in a way that could not be mended. They could not be sewn back together after the betrayal and hurt that had taken place between them. He had caused her so much agony and as he held her in the rain, he could see the way his lies had affected her. But little did she know, she had affected him too. All the times she had hurt him with her words, they had argued and fought and slammed each other into wall after wall, them still being a couple was shocking in itself. Love like that can’t be broken and fixed. It can’t be torn apart and strung out and shredded and then put back together. Love just doesn’t enough forgiveness for that. Broken hearts can’t ever be fully mended. They can’t be fixed or healed or

Ethan's hand on her arm was at once a shackle and an anchor. His touch forced her to be aware of the energy she had gathered, her skin burning as she was forced to dump most of it or risk it trying to equalize between them. It also brought her a stillness, a barrier against the flood of fear that threatened to drag her down. She wanted to lean on him, to let his strength hold her up. But, she couldn't. Elisa's bright green eye's jumped from Ethan's grey to the unsettlingly similar gaze of his aunt.

With a tired nod at Greer, Bass wrapped a hand around Charlie’s neck. It was the last thing he remembered for a while.

Sky’s breathing was heavy as she dragged herself into her seat, blood poured from her newly broken nose. And her eyes glazed over, she welcomed the darkness; maybe this time she’d finally go home. Memories replayed in her head.

The others shook their heads. “I don’t think you got it back from Mike.” Kim said.

“I should have known she told you, and I appreciate the offer, but, I’ll be sitting this one out,” Charlie replied, looking back to where Bass stood waiting with Jago and the rest of the children, with a soft smile. “My place is here now, with them,” she said, looking back to Murdoch. “It’s up to me to make sure they don’t forget. That they remember where they came

Heart wrenched. I felt as if the best friend necklace that matched hers had been ripped off my neck and shattered into a million pieces. After a night full of hugging and crying, my sadness turned to anger. A war happening thousands of miles away was responsible for not only pulling us apart but also keeping Layla away from her family. Despite the physical distance of the war, I felt as if Layla, as well as myself, were deep in

She never cried for so long. Her heart felt like a crumbled piece of paper, like it could never be fixed again. She would cry and cry like a never ending story. The pain of this situation would hurt her more than anything she thought. She thought that it was the worst thing that could happen to her. What she didn’t know was that it was only the beginning.

“Oh, Charlie,” Rachel gasped, moving from the chair she was sitting in to the side of the bed, “How do you feel, Sweetheart?”

The flood of emotions tumbles out. A stream of questions, one after another, is rapidly fired at him - where did he go, why did he leave, and most importantly, why didn’t he say goodbye? All this time she’d spent waiting in the past, suspended in time, unable to receive any semblance of closure or composure. All the pent up emotions rush out of her and guilt flashes in his eyes. "Let’s go inside first,” he says, “I’ll explain what I

She stormed out of the room, not evening giving him the chance to respond. She could hear him yelling trying to get her back into his room. She ignored him. She could feel the tears falling on her cheeks. She was not about to let him see her cry, they weren’t there yet. She did the only thing she had enough strength to do. She simply sat in the first chair she found, buried her face into hands.

“Yes, ma’am, we are. I am Detective Wallace and this is my partner Detective Johnson. How can we help you?”