Demonic Angel - Matt's Tale

A demonic angel with tattered wings,
Sat on a headstone writing of shattered things,
I watched from a distance as he started to cry,
And went over to comfort him, to tell him it’s alright.

From then on me and my angel were friends,
But neither of us expected such a brutal end,
But then I started to see the bruises and cuts,
I didn’t ask why but I worried so much.

One day my demonic angel wasn’t seen,
I went to his house but he wouldn’t let me in,
I called up his phone but he wouldn’t pick it up,
And then I decided enough was enough.

Me and Scott, my second best friend,
Went to his house as the day began to end,
We knocked on the door, there was no answer,
We phoned up his mobile, again...no answer.

Scott began to worry and we went round the back,
Our angels parents were out but he was at home,
Sitting on his window ledge, writing in a tome,
We called up to him as we banged on the garden door,
But he didn’t want to see us any more.

The next morning we set our plans in place,
Me, Scott and Katie, our hearts filled with confusion and hate,
Went to our angels house to ask what was going on,
And his dad told us that our angel was moving on.

Scott was his closest, most daring best friend,
And he knew that the groups friendship wouldn’t suddenly end,
He knew that there was something unwanted going on,
And he was determined to put an end to it,
So our plans began.

If our angel wouldn’t come out and talk to us then,
We’ll just go in and make him explain,
Because he’s not someone to just turn away,
When friends are still waiting, willing to stay.

We waited for a few days and the distance grew,
If we passed in the street, he’d ignore us and we too,
Decided to act like he didn’t exist,
While plans formulated and we searched through the mist.

On the morning of the fabled forth day,
We met up on the corner and walked his way,
Towards his house which sat silent alone,
Amid the Saturday morning chaos all around.

When Scott knocked on the door his mother opened,
He asked if our angel could come out and talk,
She immediately answered with a snappy retort,
And told us to leave, we were not wanted here.

While Scott kept her busy, an argument brewing,
Myself and dear Katie went round the back,
Picked the lock on the garden gate,
And wandered into the house.

We’d been there many times before,
We knew the way upstairs and to our angels room,
It wasn’t as light as we once remembered,
It was darker, more desolate and most light had faded.

The window seemed blocked, the wood seemed tarnished,
The bed was unmade and a shock lay upon it,
Our angel was broken, his spirit shattered,
His once bouncy aura now lay in pieces, unmoving.

He was sleeping, but not peaceful,
His hands clenched and figure curled up,
Worry in her eyes, Katie shook him awake,
His eyes were so empty, we thought he would break.

He seemed lost and confused as to why we were there,
His mind was still trapped in an unknown nightmare,
As he sat up and told us to leave,
I saw the bruises and demanded knowledge.

He wasn’t as feisty as he used to be,
And gave in to Katie and me,
He agreed to meet us in the coffee shop the next day,
And so we crept out the back and were on our way.

The next day couldn’t come quick enough,
And we all paced, nervous as we waited for 2 O’clock,
At ten to the hour we met at the shop,
Grabbing a table by the window and waiting for him to come.

Our angel arrived nearly ten minutes late,
But he looked so broken we didn’t say anything,
He ordered a drink and stared into its depths,
As we wondered where to begin.

Scott started the conversation, his confidence growing,
And we listened intently as our angel answered,
“My dad didn’t want me to see you guys again,”
It wasn’t exactly the answer we were expecting.

Our angels father, Paul, was his name,
Always seemed to like us, he’d join in with our games,
But clearly we’d done something wrong,
Which we needed to put right before there was a fight.

When we asked what we’d done,
Our angel laughed humorlessly and seemed to fight with himself over the answer,
“It’s nothing you’ve done,” He replying in a monotone,
His eyes searching his mug, hoping for a hand in explaining.

“You see, my father has a split personality,
Around people he’s the average caring type,
But alone he’s a... well, a heartless git.” (1)
We had no idea what he meant and all too soon he had to leave.

That night as we all lay awake in our beds,
We all put the pieces together in our head,
We’d seen the cuts on his wrists and all the bruises,
The cuts were his own, that we knew for sure,
But now we contemplated what we’d learnt we realized a ghastly mistake.

Recalling conversations we’d had in the past,
Our angel had told us his life was a hell,
And as much as he liked demons and Satan,
He didn’t like this pit.

We’d all been thinking the bruises were from games,
Skateboarding or paint balling mistakes,
We all knew what a klutz he could be,
But now we knew, the bruises weren’t from he.

At 3 in the morning I phoned up Scott,
Luckily our resident daredevil couldn’t sleep,
And I told him everything I suspected,
And he replied that I wasn’t the only one.

We waited until morning to tell Katie,
And she agreed with what we thought,
But none of us, insane as we were,
Wanted to ask our angel, in case we were wrong.

So, Katie decided to call in reinforcements,
And we’d ask Paul outright,
If we were wrong we’d apologize to him,
And if we were right....

Reinforcements turned out to be Ben, Luke and Chris,
With the added help of Scott's brother David,
With the new four hanging back, just in case,
We knocked on the door sharply and angrily.

I doubt if Paul knew what he would find,
When he opened the door to see seven daring teens,
All dressed in black with spiky jeans,
But now he knows what happens, when he hurts our angel.

Our suspicions were true and we whisked our angel away,
He stayed with me for a few more days,
Before staying with his uncle who lived a few doors down,
And now he knew that his pain wouldn’t just be his own.

For a while it seemed as if things were at peace,
He was content and happy with life as it was,
But then things were changing:

Ben moved away to Wales and we didn’t see him for ages.
Scott was distant, studying taking up all his time,
Luke was head over heels in love with some guy we didn’t know,
While David and Chris were drinking at parties and having a wild life.

Our angel was scared, thinking he’d be forgotten,
Even though we’d told him that we’d never leave him,
He seemed to forget that even when he had acted cold to us,
We had stayed by his side, refusing to give up.

Sensing weakness his dad decided to taunt him,
Telling him that he was worthless and that in the end we’d all leave him,
Saying that we’d move on because we were smart enough to go somewhere in life,
That we weren’t weak, unlike him.

Our angel couldn’t take it any more,
He wanted to get out,
He wanted to run, to scream and shout,
He wanted to escape, to die.

He was alone in the house,
Weeping and screaming,
Searching for a way out,
I still don’t know why we left him alone,
We all knew something was going to happen,
He was too calm around us,
The calm before the storm.

Pulling out his iPod he switched it to the Black Parade,
Before searching the house for any pills he could find,
And taking out a cocktail glass,
Pouring them in he went into the garden,
Just as rain began to fall.

He sat crossed legged on the grass,
And took the pills, three at a time,
While listening to the song,
Tears falling down his face,
He knew that people would miss him,
But he couldn’t do it...he couldn’t carry on.

His neighbor was the one who saw it,
We’re all forever grateful to her,
If not for her, he’d be dead now.

I’ll never forget that day,
Me, Katie and Luke running to the house,
Through the kitchen and into the garden,
His iPod was still lying there,
Next to a note and some pictures of the group together.

It seemed like hours, waiting in that room,
His uncle, Mitchelle, was pacing all the time,
While we waited for the doctors to tell us,
What had happened to our angel.

I don’t remember much of what they told us,
My mind only registered the words ‘stable’ and ‘coma’,
The following days passed like asthmatic ants with heavy shopping,
They crawled by, and our angel still didn’t wake up.

All those nights I dreamt of a funeral,
A church of silver and gold,
And a shadowy figure sitting on a headstone which read his name,
I remember waking up screaming for him.

Sometimes I would ring my voice-mail up,
Just to hear some of the nonsense messages he left me,
In one of them he just rambled on about cookies,
Sometimes, it just made it worse.

The days all molded into one,
Time held no importance,
Days were either bad, or worse,
On some days I contemplated suicide,
It was only my friends reassurances that he’d get better which kept me here. (2)

Then it happened,
At nearly 5 am I got a call from Luke,
He’d been at the hospital all night,
Our angel was awake!

When I saw him it took all my power not to glomp him,
He was looking sad, he didn’t want to live,
Before I walked in the room I saw Scott sat against the wall,
He was grinning from ear to ear as he slept.

A demonic angel with tattered wings,
Sat on a headstone writing of shattered things,
I watched from a distance as he started to cry,
And went over to comfort him, to tell him it’s alright.

This angel...was Matt.