Gale slipped a sushi cube into his mouth, the chopsticks rubbing his lip as he did. He let the smell of the wasabi and soy sauce flow into his nose, savoring the taste of the gourmet white rice and fine fish with it.
He looked out the floor to ceiling windows that encompassed all but one side of his fathers dining room and living room. The black marble floors shined with the lights of New York City, and the fire in the stone fire pit in the center of the room was the only light beside the one coming from his fathers cracked room door.
It scared him, sometimes. How high up their apartment was. The penthouse of one of the tallest apartment buildings in the city. Not to mention, also the most luxurious.
He swallowed his bite of sushi, going in for another. The sound of an expensive, professional pair of work shoes echoed across the floor, and the light from his fathers room grew brighter as he walked into the dining room. "How are you?" Came his voice, smooth like honey. Gale swallowed his food. "I'm okay. How was work?" His father made a face. "Devilish, really. The accountant really does need some manners... she had the stupidest romantic look on her face when I walked out today. I hate her. Can't she even tell I'm too good for her?" He walked to his seat at the opposite end of the marble table. Gold leaf rest atop his elaborate looking tenderloin steak, the mark of a rich man, he always said.
"Gold leaf. Elegant. Beautiful. And rich," came his fathers voice in his head. He didn't talk to his father much, on account that his job took up most of the time he had, but also because he was a straight up jerk to every living thing.
According to him, they were richer, more beautiful, and refined than everyone else. Gale just thought they were jerks. All his father did was take from people. Gale just wanted to help the world. Make people happy. Follow his dreams. But when asked how exciting it could be to help people or be a musician, all gale's response was, was "how dreadful. You'll be my apprentice. You need to take on the family heritage. There's a reason we're rich, beautiful, and perfect. We need to be to hold up this world. We need to keep the balance."
It sickened him. But he didn't remark. He did what his father told him.
Why? Because he was afraid of his father. So afraid. He could never stand up to a being like him. He would die in a matter of minutes. And what would be accomplished then? Nothing.
"You know," his father started, breaking Gale out of his thoughts. "I have a right mind to believe we're talented too." Gale perked up. "You mean...you think my passion in music is good?" His father made another face. Of course. What did he expect? "Oh heavens, no. I just mean that we really do have quite the nack to attract the good things, don't we?" Gale sighed. "Yes father." He said stoically as he finished off the last bite of his sushi, washing it down with his green tea. He thanked the cook, washing the pans in the kitchen, as he left. He ran up their see through stairs, holding on to the railing, glancing with hatred at his father as he went out of sight.
"Jeez" he whispered to himself as he shut his room door. He sat himself down on his desk chair, wheeling towards the full length window. His finger touched each little light of New York. He rested his head against the glass, feeling the coolness seep into his skin.
He listened to every little sound he could. The honking of horns, the voices of the people, sirens, wailing babies, the clatter of footsteps among the concrete jungle. He really did love New York. He winced as a scream entered his ears. Another. A girl. Pleading. Begging. Screaming for someone. Anyone. Another voice, whispering at her to shut up. Her screams were cut off, followed by muffled sobs. The sound of duck tape.
He had to find her. He had to. He knew this was happening. He had to help her.
He walked over to his balcony, covered with sides and a small roof. He took a deep breath. He stood up on the railing. He spread his arms wide.
And he fell.
He waited for around three seconds, and then lifted up high again. His wings, black with red on the tips of the feathers, glided with the wind. He'd forgotten how much he loved to fly. Perks of being an angel. He laughed at himself, and listened again for the girl. Again, he heard muffled sobs. But also the scraping of something metallic.
"Gotcha," he said to himself, heading towards the alley in which it was eminating from. Careful not to land to loudly or be seen, Gale lowered himself around the corner from the noise.
He peeked slowly around, looking at a brown haired girl, her phone thrown to the side and crushed. Another man, clearly the criminal, stood pacing in front of her. He seemed to be thinking. The girl let out another sob that racked her body.
"Now," he whispered, retracting his wings. He swallowed, bracing himself for unexpected gunfire or worse. He revealed himself, making purposefully loud steps. The criminal turned around swiftly. "Who the hell are you? Get out." Gale lifted his hands above his head. "I'm only here for the girl. If you let her go, I won't call the police." The guy scoffed. "Yeah right. If you're not gone in three seconds, I'll shoot you." Gale kept his ground, bracing himself. He inhaled in surprise, the few bullets hitting him. He staggered, falling back from the impact of the bullets. The air had been knocked out of him.
The guy was a good aimer. One in the head, one in the chest, and one in the throat. It certainly hurt, however, he was fine. Thanks to both his mother and father, he was immune to any mortal weapons. If they were blessed they could do any damage a normal one would do, but he would heal in around 24 hours. The only weapons that were fatal to him were ones from the deep realms. Or anyone from the deep realms. There were barely any weapons in heaven, and he'd never seen them. So that was unlikely. However, his father held a huge supply of weapons from the deep realms in a large safe in their apartment.
Gale lay on the concrete for around a minute. The criminal had gone back to pacing around his victim. Gale got slowly up, and the girl tried her best not to look surprised, but she couldn't help it. The criminal turned around again, wide eyed. Gale dodged the bullets as best he could, sprinting to the man and hitting his arm with such force that he dropped the gun. He gawked at gale briefly before unsheathing a blade, which he held to Gales chest.
Gale just smiled devilishly. A look of fear grew in the mans eyes, and he tried to impale Gale, but his knife just slipped off. A little pinch, nothing more.
The criminal just stepped back, petrified. "As I said, I need to take the girl away. Thank you." Gale said, walking past him and untying the girl from the chair she was in. He removed the duck tape from her mouth, telling her it would be ok. They walked casually out of the alley, the girl still shaking, the criminal gawking at Gale.
He sat her down on the sidewalk. "Are you hurt?" He asked calmly. She stuttered. She gave a look of disbelief. "A-are you hurt? You-you..." she touched his body where the bullets had hit. "You're not dead. H-how could you...?" Gale smiled a little. "I heard you. I wanted to help. I figure that if I can, I should. What matters is that your safe." She exhaled, overwhelmed. "Right, well... thank you. You..you saved my life. What's your name? I'm Jessica..." he smiled a little more. She gave a different look. A surprised one. "Oh! I know who you are!" Gale grew queasy. She...couldn't possibly know he was the son of...satan? Could she? Or an angel? He kept a straight face, only playing with his collar. "Your Gale Morningstar, right? Your the new kid at my school! I've seen you around." He exhaled a sigh of relief. Thank the heavens. She didn't know. Well, she knew a little. But he'd shown people his powers before.
"Yeah. I'm Gale. Hey, maybe we should get lunch tomorrow at school?" Jessica smiled. "Sure! But right now i have to go to a hair salon and reapply my makeup so my dad can't tell anything happened. See ya tomorrow, right?" Gale glanced to the side casually, then back at her. "Sure! I'll be there." She nodded and waved a goodbye, walking away. A few people looked at her, but they quickly went back to their regular New York walk.
Gale went again into the deserted alley, looking to see if the criminal was still there. Nowhere in sight. He opened his wings, black and red feathers spread wide, and took off.
He flew high above the city, counting all the lights he could. He laughed again, watching the moon rise. Curling his wings in, he dived down, swooping past the top of the Empire State Building. Whooping, his voice echoed above the city. He opened his wings again, and lifted back up, heading to his apartment. Hollering a bit more in the adrenaline rush, he landed on his balcony.
Breathing hard, he retracted his wings. He went over to his mini fridge, stocked with Coca-Cola, and he popped open a can, the familiar pop and fizz following. He took a swig of it, walking out of his room. He choked on his next swallow. His fathers arm hit him squarely in the chest, and he stepped out from behind the back of his door. Gale coughed a few times. His father waited for him to finish. When he did, a disturbing voice filled Gales ears.
"Why did you save that girl? Why did you show her your powers? Have you done this before?" Came from his mouth in a voice that sounded like many. Gale stopped short, still shocked his father had even known. Gale exhaled. "...why should you get to know exactly when I'm doing what? It's my business." Gale regretted saying anything. His fathers eyes grew a blood red, glowing. His hand glowed as well with the same red. It flew to Gales throat. His father slammed him up against the concrete wall, crushing his windpipe. His hand burned his flesh, and caused excruciating pain. Gale grabbed weakly at his fingers as he was lifted nearly two feet of the ground. He tried to suck a little bit of air in, but that only made it hurt worse.
His father smiled at his pain. "Answer me. Now." He let him go, and Gale fell to the floor, clutching his throat and coughing. It hurt to even breathe. Each breath was scorched. He feared he couldn't even speak. Not that he wanted to.
His father grew impatient. "Speak! Or I'll do far worse!" Gale let out a painful sob mixed with a cough. A tear of pain streaked down his cheek. It sizzled on his boiling hot skin. That's what happens to demons when they're upset or mad or hurt. They burn. Gale swallowed painfully. "I-I just wanted t-t-to hel-lp... please-father, stop..." his father gave a dissatisfied look. A claw extended from his finger. "Do you have any goddamn idea how the hell dangerous that was?! Showing one of those-those... things-your powers?! We could be found out! I only have one chance to live on earth, and I plan on using it wisely! Not getting sent back to hell for my retarded son who still hasn't learned the rules!"
His claw like finger lifted to his throat, and Gale shut his eyes. He swallowed again. Painfully. "If I catch you showing your powers to humans again....no one, and I mean not a single creature in the underworld or the heavens, including the dimwits on this planet you so love, will ever hear your voice again. Am I clear?!" The spot the claw rested on Gales neck stung a little, letting a warm drip of blood cascade down his chest. Gale nodded furiously, letting out a very quiet sob. His father backed away from him, removing his hand from his neck.
"Well then. How about we carry on then, son? Lovely evening, isn't it? The couch is free tonight, if you were wondering. I'll be working in my study." He walked off, down the stairs. Gale waited till the door shut, and he collapsed onto the ground.
He sobbed quietly, clutching his injured throat. It burned terribly, and felt like it would be crushed for days. Getting up slowly, he walked weakly towards the bathroom, shutting the door.
He looked at his throat in the mirror, grimacing at the heavy bruising and flaking skin. The dot of blood had left a trail as well. He winced and tried not to react, watching himself swallow painfully in the mirror. He sighed, opening the drawer under the sink, and grabbing the roll of white gauze always kept in there.
They really only had it for guests. Eerily enough, he was never allowed in the house when a guest was over. Each time he would come back, and a new roll of gauze would be in its place. He unwrapped the fresh roll, pinning it gently to his neck and coiling it around. He stuck the end of it to the rest, making sure it wouldn't come loose.
He exited the bathroom, turning the light off. He walked slowly down the stairs, glancing to the side, paranoid that a maid would see him. Luckily, there was no one. He entered the kitchen, grabbing a cup and sliding it under the coffee machine.
He let the cup fill up with warm water, and he put a tea bag in. When the tea finished, he stirred it a bit, and went over to the living room couch, sipping quietly and grabbing the remote. He went to Netflix, of which he was addicted to. He'd been binge watching lock and key, a show where the kids find magical keys in a house they inherited after their dad had died. He was obsessed with it.
After a few hours of lonely lonely netflix and chill, he decided to go to his room and sleep.
He stood up, letting the blanket he'd been curled up under fall off of him. He turned the tv off, dropping the remote on their glass coffee table. He winced at the clang, but nevertheless picked it up and placed it back. The only light came from the city and his fathers room.
He walked over to the window, leaning against it. If he wanted to, right now, all he would have to do would be to just crash through the window and fly away. He would be free. Free as anyone else was. But what would happen if his father found him. He sighed, feeling the bandages on his neck. His heart leapt in erratic beats, and it made his eyes water. So fragile. So insecure. So unstable.
No. No, he couldn't let himself feel like that. He had to be strong against his father. He couldn't be afraid, or weak. He inhaled deeply, and let all the air out in a big huff. He swallowed hard, trying to loosen the lump in his throat that was his heart. He ran back upstairs, into his room. He climbed up to his loft bed, and whispered a goodnight to the city he loved.
And a death wish to his father.