I coughed as I inhaled my cigarette. I always coughed, though.
Yes, you heard me right: I’m only seventeen.
I dropped out of high school and ran away from home. For money, I’m a prostitute. It’s not that enjoyable of a job, but it puts bread on the table.
I decided to go see if Tiffany, a fellow prostitute I knew from work, would want to hang out. I exit the alley, check to see if it’s safe to walk, and make my way down the street.
Unfortunately, some idiotic bastard wasn’t paying attention. I looked over in surprise and saw a car speeding toward me. I shut my eyes quickly and felt a long moment of pain before it melted away with numbness.
I felt a soft breeze cross past my face. When I opened my eyes, I saw a white gate in front of me.
“Scarlet Marie Donahue?”
I nodded shakily. “Yes. Where—?”
“What?” I whispered.
“So I’m in . . . Heaven?” I choked out.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
My heart stopped. Well, not in the physical sense, anyway; that happened all ready. But I knew exactly where I would go because of the life I had lived.
I bit my lip. “Yeah, what of it?”
“No!” I gasped. “Not Hell! Please!”
“What?” I asked immediately. “What is it? I’ll do anything. Just not Hell.”
A Guardian Angel?
Back in high school, I had an amazing friend named Erica Saunders. She was beautiful, smart, popular, and when I ran away from home, I could sense she was heartbroken. Don’t ask how, but I just knew.
“My friend from high school, Erica Saunders,” I explained.
Journalist? That figured. She had always wanted to succeed in a career with writing.
“Are you sure?” Justin said, his expression stern. “Once you’re a Guardian Angel, you can’t just quit.”
He shrugged and took a pen out of his suit pocket. He scribbled something down in another manila folder that appeared in his hand and snapped his fingers.
“Wings!” I cried.
I smiled back.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“Good luck,” Justin told me, winking.
And I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t miss my old job.
The diamond began to bleep. Excited, I zipped around everywhere until the bleeping started racing. Finally, when I was directly above a tall office building, the bleeping accelerated.
I zoomed down to the window where the bleeping got faster. I glanced in and saw a tired woman with librarian-like glasses and short brown hair typing over a laptop.
I could hear what was going on inside. Erica’s phone rang; her hand went to it instantly and it went to her ear.
I knew what had happened. Damien, her boyfriend, had canceled on their fourth date. And it was Valentine’s Day.
I noticed with anxiety that the roads were slick with ice from the snow.
I flew down to her car, seconds before it slammed into the other car, and pushed the front of Erica’s car back. It stopped instantly, inches away from the other car.
I went to her car window, put my head threw the window—which I can do, since I ‘m only there in spirit—and whispered softly into Erica’s ear, “Don’t resent me, Erica. And when you’re feeling empty, keep me in your memory. It’s me, a great old friend of yours who is now your protector.”
© Copyright 2016 MidnightQueen12. All rights reserved.
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