Max

Max... I love you. You are a creature of extraordinary beauty, incredible grace. I saw it at once, back when we were kids. You're an angel Max, a real, honest to god angel.

You are an angel, because my father made you that way.

My father, who saw the same... destiny; yes that's the word for you. My father saw the destiny in you, and he nurtured it. So much that I actually had to make myself into...into THIS! I am not like you. Look at me. A patchwork merge of Frankenstein and the Wolfman.

When we were kids, and there are days that it feels like last week, I saw you. You were out in the courtyard at the School, with my father standing next to you, and with the sun shining through your wings. You had them stretched out real far, just for the fun of seeing you had wings. I went running to dad, and I begged him to tell me. I said "Daddy? Is that an Angel? A REAL Angel?"

And he said "Yes. Yes she is. But you aren't meant to be near her. Not yet."

I watched you beat the air with your wings, power to match your grace, and I knew he was right. I wasn't meant for something like you.

Then I grew up. I grew up real fast. I grew up when he took you away, to the place in the mountains and I knew.

My father had gone with his angels, and left me behind in my cage.

You got heaven, I got hell, and you never came back. And the only time I could get near you, near those wings, near My Angel, was to hunt you.

Yes, I enjoyed the hunt. How could I not? You were such magnificent prey. And if I had brought you back, then at least your destiny would have some effect on mine. The only time Dad seemed to notice I was in the room was when he was asking me for an update on catching you. I had to bring you back max. I had to. How could I not?

Max, I love you. You're everything in the world that I want to be in every way. And I hate you so much, because you treat it like a personal insult.

How can you run from this? How can you hate this? How can you not want to be this? You treat everything I want like a plague, like my father is the Devil himself, who takes personal glee in tormenting you. Well he doesn't. I was granted that honor. Have you ever seen yourself max? Have you ever seen yourself in the mirror? Do it some time. Stand in front of a mirror, and spread your wings out as far as they will go, open a window behind yourself, and let sunlight filter between your feathers. Do that and you will see what I saw.

You are an angel Max.

My father is not the devil.

The Devil does NOT create Angels.

And when you escaped, my father wept for you. Not just for your loss, but for the loss of your... destiny. There's that word again.

I wept for you Max. Alone in my room. Erasers are not allowed to weep. So it had to be my secret. I saw myself in the mirror and I knew, I would never be an angel. Look at me. I'm a Monster.

I had fantasies too Max, we all did, and people who live in cages need to keep their wings inside. You had them inside and out. I could hear you talking through the cages. Pretending you were in a house somewhere, with little Angel of the spooky eyes, Gaz, Nudge, Fang. They're all there. My father is there in your dream. I am not.

I had fantasies too max. You were in them. In my dream, i had wings too, and we flew forever, seeing if we could outrun the dawn. We always did, and all the people down below would point up at us and marvel, for we were such incredible beings.

In my dream we would land, and we would tell each other jokes, and laugh and play games that only we could play. In my dream you were more than my friend, and my father would play with both of us.

In your dreams, he was your father. That was my dream too.

I hated you so much. You had my dream, and dared to hate me for having my own, that was so similar.

My father made another you. Another you. I hated you so much in the moment I saw her... You were gone, and I was waiting for him to realize it.

In a way, I was waiting for myself to realize it too.

But my father HAD realized, he had known we couldn't expect you to come back, so he... he ignored me anyway, and made a copy of you. Because even a raw fake Max, was better than his own son!

You think I was hard on you Max? You have no idea! That other one, my father had words with her, tried to make her be like you, but think like me. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor, giving me her as a consolation prize. But he wasn't, because the more she thought like me, the less she was like you.

I liked being with her though. Dad was going mental trying to figure her out. He had my problem. It was impossible to tell where you ended, and she began, because she was such a good copy. At least, on the outside.

I hated her so much, but not because I wanted to be her. I hated her, because I wanted her to be you.

He made a copy of you Max. You were gone, not coming back, and I had made myself his right hand, his sword and shield, the best he had, and willing to follow any wish he cared to ask fulfilled.

And he made another you.

How many twists do I have to put my body through? How many mad schemes do I have to volunteer for? I knew I was a monster. And I knew it couldn't last, but I was desperate. I had the power, at the cost of my future. How long does one like me live? Three years? Four? Five? They never tell us. We never know.

Now I know.

Max, would it have killed you to spend some of your long, long life with me? I was desperate. I would have done anything. I would have torn your wings clean off, but then you wouldn't be an angel any more.

I love you Max. You're everything I want to be. And I hate you, because you can't accept that. You call yourself a freak? Max... Why? How could you see yourself as anything but...

What?

Can't think. Mind is starting to shut down. Good. I can't keep thinking this way. It's too painful.

Max will live. She doesn't have a shutdown date. She and her flock are meant to be. They are touched by Destiny, and those with destiny can't die young.

Not like me.

The little one, the mind reader, she's come over to Max, looking at me with those really spooky eyes. But her gaze is nothing but sympathy. She whispered something in Max's ear, and I wish my Eraser-hearing worked enough, just enough to let me know what she said.

I want to know even more when it makes max lean down and whisper so soft in my ear.

"Demon's ARE fallen angels." Max whispered quietly.

Her touch is light and cool on my forehead. It is a benediction against my skin, and I can feel tears pricking my eyes.

Demons are fallen angels.

And I believe you Max. You are an angel, just the way my father made you. Just the way my father made us.

I can feel it all shutting down. My eyes, my father gave them to me, the better to see you as you move in matchless grace. My hearing, slowly fading. Good. I don't want to hear you're choked breathing. You could not possibly be crying for me, Angels do not cry for Demons. My muscles, fading fast, I cannot lift my arms. I could bend steel, but I cannot touch your face now. My mouth, going slack. I never knew your kiss.

Fang is over there, pretending not to notice. He is jealous, I can tell. I know, because I have been jealous of him a lot longer. But not right now. I can't be jealous of him now. He loves you Max, and he wants you to feel the same. Please, PLEASE, don't take this one thing that I want, and see it as a burden. Fang, this is not love, it could never be. Not from here, this is compassion. Angels are full of compassion. Even for me.

Huh. Dying has such a way of sorting things out.

I watched a TV show once, about a man who died, and at the end, an Angel came to carry him to heaven.

I'm not an angel. I'm a Demon. A monster. Just the way my father made me. I don't get to go to heaven, but I do get an Angel to show me the way. More than perfect.

Tears, on my face. Not mine. Hers. An angels tears. They run down my face. I am not aware of my body, I am not aware of my life, but I can feel her crying for me. So sweet.

I never knew your kiss. I have your forgiveness. That will be enough.

Time to die.