The Black Parade

I sat down and went through them all, putting the envelopes in one neat pile and the cards in another with the trinkets and stuffed animals in the middle. Maybe it was a good thing Michael wasn’t around, because I couldn’t seem to stop crying, though I was smiling through my tears. Even in writing, I could feel how much he cared about me—someone he had never even met.

 

The letters for my sixth through tenth birthdays were all simple and colorful, but the ones after that began to get serious. He didn’t divulge his own whereabouts or the fact that he was a Seer. Most of them said that I need only know that he would look after me one day when I was ready.

 

“You may be asking yourself who I am or why I’ve been writing you, but just know that I want to make sure you are safe. That is what your mother would have wanted for you, and what I want for you as well. I know that right now things seem at their darkest, but there is an old saying: sometimes it’s darkest just before dawn. There is a dawn for you, and me, and for us all. So hang a night light by your bed and wait for the sunrise, angel.”

 

A.B.

 

A fresh wave of tears tumbled down my cheeks, but they weren’t sad tears so I didn’t mind. I wiped my eyes and took the letter to the fridge, clipping it on there with a magnet. I had fought in a war. I had nearly died three times in the past three months. I had been broken and beaten and bloodied. I had lost my mother, my lover, and the man who may have been my father figure if he had lived long enough. I had killed. I had suffered.

 

But for once in my life, I had love and no one could steal it from me.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 27

 

 

 

During the first month without Michael, I felt like a quarter rolling around in an empty piggy bank. My apartment felt hollow and I rattled around it, lost, aimless, and uncomfortable. I hadn’t realized how much time he occupied in my daily life. During the day, I’d go to work and when I got out, he would wait for me. Ever since Belial abducted me, he never let me leave work to catch the bus by myself. I had tried and failed to convince him not to waste valuable money five days a week on the bus fare, but he never listened. On weekends, we went to movies and plays or walked in the park or perused the bookstores to collect literature I didn’t have yet.

 

The silence killed me. I had my laptop open constantly to play music to combat the quiet. My weekends were spent sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading. I deleted “Golden Brown” from my playlist and avoided every single sentimental love song I could just to stay sane.

 

My dinners went back to being simple: tuna salad, spaghetti, fajitas, and lasagna. I just didn’t feel like trying new recipes yet.

 

Lauren immediately knew something was wrong. After a week of my unresponsive behavior, she dragged me into the bathroom at work and demanded to know what was going and where Michael went. I merely told her that we weren’t seeing each other any more because his job took up too much time and he couldn’t be with me. Part of it was true, after all. She believed me and offered her sympathy, promising to take me out to meet guys. I declined the offer. I wasn’t ready yet.

 

The second month wasn’t as bad as the first, though the urge to start drinking again got worse, so I started attending local AA meetings. Gabriel checked in on me every other week, sometimes by a phone call, other times in person. I never asked him how Michael was doing because I knew, to some degree. While flipping channels, I’d heard about some of his performances on the local entertainment news. The Throwaway Angels were making their way to the top. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

 

The other problem was that my nightmares got progressively worse, and it wasn’t just dreams about killing Andrew or Mulciber choking me to death. These dreams involved someone who knew my inner darkness and could bring it to life whenever I fell asleep.

 

I stood in a pure white field, much like the one Andrew and my mother had brought me to, but something was different. Wrong. In front of me stood a pane of glass that was a thousand feet high and a thousand feet across. On the other side, I could see the silhouette of a man walking towards it. I squinted, stepping closer to see. My breath caught as he came into focus.

 

Michael stood there, his beautiful silver wings flowing from his back, dressed in all black with the most mournful look on his face. He said nothing, merely lifted one hand and pressed it to the glass. I didn’t understand why, but I did the same. I couldn’t feel the warmth from his hand. The windowpane was too thick. God help us.

 

Then, slowly, the glass began to darken at the corners, spreading downward until it swallowed Michael’s image in a rush of silver. It had turned into a mirror and behind me there was another man. A man in a suit with black hair on either side of his face and a serpentine smile.

 

I whirled around, a scream building in my throat, as Belial reached out and placed his gloved hands against the mirror, trapping me between them. He was so close that I could smell the metallic scent of blood on his breath.

 

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