The Fallen Angel

• Fantasy
• Action and Adventure

								
Morning run, shower, breakfast, and school. Kaily did everything she needed to do before 8 am. Some of her friends said she did more than most do in a day. She took pride in that. Kaliy woke up at 5:30 every morning as a way to distract herself from the night terrors she gets every night. She ties her loose shoelaces on her feet and begins her run on her watch. Seeing the sun rise, breathing in the cold air creating a rhythm with her steps. Kaily turns on Wilshire to get back to her house, completing 3 miles before 6:20. She gets in her pink-tiled shower to wash off the sweat. Mr. Wriggles was standing in the tub. His cold eyes met mine. I put my purple shampoo in my hair, washing it off to let my conditioner sit for a few minutes. My friends always compliment me on my shiny hair; I tell them that it’s natural, attempting to keep the secret all to myself. I put on my uniform, applying concealer over my blemishes. His cold hands touch my shoulders, but he no longer scares me. My parents told me he’s not real. So did my doctor. No one ever believes me. He always gets in the car with me to go to school and sits in the left seat of my mom’s car. As we passed by the tall trees in my driveway, Mr. Wriggles begins to scream. 
“Stop it,” I said. “Mr. Wriggles, stop it!” My breath began to rise, I couldn’t believe him, he never does this. 
“Kaily what’s wrong?” my mom said. “Let me pull over just please calm down.”
 I began to scream with him, our blended screeches filled the car. My mom turned her head to see what was wrong as a semi-truck approached us on the street. At this moment Mr. Wriggles stopped screaming, flashing a big grin at me as he looked behind me. Everything turned black. I woke up in the hospital, wondering how much I was missing in English. He was lying beside me, his cold body comforting my paralyzed one. A nurse came in 20 minutes later, informing me that my mom died. My dad woke up from his chair, as he locked eyes with his conscious daughter he began to weep. Mr. Wriggles and I looked at my dad with confusion. I guess I hadn’t truly grasped what had happened. It still hasn’t, 6 months later. My friends constantly ask if I’m okay, pushing my wheelchair to each class I share with them. I do miss getting up to run. This is all my mother’s fault. She drove us into the accident. I knew she had a history of mental health problems, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I lay in my bed with Frank Ocean playing on my speaker, tears streaming down my red face. I curl up into a ball, needing something. I don’t know what. I wish someone could tell me. I know something is wrong with me, maybe my head. 
“You’re perfect,” Mr. Wriggles whispered. 
He’s the only one that’s been able to comfort me through this hard time. All my friends have told me I’m crazy, and they all look at me with pity in their eyes. The paralyzed freak. I used to be popular, liked by the majority. I want that back. He said he could give it all back to me. Only if I did one thing. I’d have to give my body to him. This took a lot of convincing, but in the end I gave up. I understood what I needed to do to get my life back. It would be painless, he said. I went to school one last time, trying to grasp the bright blue halls I walk everyday, finally paying attention to my teachers. I waved my friends goodbye as my dad carried me into the backseat of the car. We drove past my old running route, nostalgia hitting me like a brick. I went to my room telling my dad I would work on my homework. I did my math homework, finished reading the documents for history, so I packed everything in my backpack. I wheeled my chair next to my bed, dragging myself to lay down on my bed. I looked up at my ceiling, taking one last look at my posters with my favorite albums. I took one last deep breath.
“I’m ready,” I said.
I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling someone standing next to me. I felt Mr. Wriggle’s cold hands grab my arms. I began to gasp, my lungs feeling tighter by the second. My skin began to turn white, an unearthly screech left my throat. I began to see my mom, my kind friends waving at me in the distance. I made it back. I got my life back. 
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