Angel’s Keeper

CW: suicide, kidnapping, violence, abuse

Angel doesn’t remember the last time she slept.

    She lays motionless in bed, staring out of the window into the distance, where a large black crow has perched itself on a thick tree branch. There was a raging storm overnight that blew the normally securely sealed windows wide open. The curtains are still billowing in the howling wind as the cold, damp air floods the room and settles on her skin. Goosebumps prickle all over her arms.

    Angel doesn’t remember seeing a bird this black and huge.

    There’s a soft knock on the door. Devin pokes his head in, a tender smile on his face. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

    The wind whips his mop of jet black hair away from his forehead. His eyes narrow to the windows that are now swinging back and forth with every gust of wind as he pats his hair down. “Why are the windows open? It could be dangerous.” There’s a slight edge to his voice and an alarmed look on his face. Devin wants to throw himself at the windows and shut them close, but he’s worried that his sudden action may scare Angel. So he holds back, just for a short while, he tells himself.

    “I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I don’t remember.”

    “Are you sure, sweetheart? Was it the storm last night?”

    “Probably,” Angel says nonchalantly, then opens her arms. They’re shaking. “Devin, come here and kiss me. I need you.” 

    Devin doesn’t go to her immediately. He folds his arms across his chest, evidently crossed. “Angel, you have to promise to tell me when such things happen. I’m worried for your safety, you know.” 

    “How can I tell you when I can’t leave the bed?” Angel retorts. “I’ve been so weak since forever, Devin, and I haven’t been sleeping for God knows how long—“

    “What did I say when you can’t sleep at night, sweetheart? I said to think of me, didn’t I?” Annoyance laces Devin’s voice but he steadies it, trying to stay patient.

    He walks over and sits on the bed, towering over her small frame. His eyes glaze over Angel’s body; although she’s frail, she looks healthy. Her skin is pale and pearlescent, glowing in the sunlight, despite the lack of sleep she was complaining about. Her arms and legs have a decent amount of muscle and are kept in shape. Her chest and curves— Devin stops himself before his mind can wander elsewhere, as he can’t be thinking about that. She’s sick and bed-ridden. At least he’s certain he’s keeping her well fed. 

    Angel doesn’t reply, her lips pouting.

    “Sweetheart, don’t be difficult,” Devin coos, “I brought you breakfast in bed. After that, we’ll take a shower, then you’ll take your pills to feel better, okay? Wouldn’t you like that?”

     Angel’s lips twist into a satisfied smile. “Of course I do. But first, you’re forgetting something.” 

    Devin doesn’t need a second reminder. “I think I know,” he murmurs, his voice dipping an octave lower as he brings his hands to the nape of her neck and crashes his lips against hers.

    Two and a half hours later, Devin is carrying Angel bridal-style back to her bed. It’s as if her legs are paralysed, although in reality they are not. Everything has to be done for her— from feeding breakfast, to showering her, feeding her daily medications, bringing her to do her business. Angel can’t muster the strength in her to carry out any of these activities of daily living. The only thing she feels that she has been doing all along is staying awake and thinking of Devin. Appreciating Devin. Loving Devin. Worshipping Devin. He’s her everything, and she’s convinced she can’t live without him. She knows that he had sworn his life to her by becoming her full-time caregiver when she fell sick and got bed bound.

    “Devin?” Angel asks timidly, knowing she has to expect the worst. Devin hates it when she talks about this, but as always, she’s pushing her luck. She knows Devin can never stay too mad at her. Her arms are still latched around Devin’s neck as he lowers her on the bed and slips in beside her.

    “Yes, sweetheart?” Devin says softly, burying his face in her freshly washed hair that smelled of apples and vanilla. Her blond hair is still damp from the shower, the water droplets sparkling under the bright fluorescent light. Devin had shut and sealed the windows tight earlier as quickly as he could, making sure they wouldn't ever be flung open by any rainstorm again. He makes a mental note to stick the black out curtains to the wall to make sure they’ll block out sunlight completely. He believes it’s bad for Angel’s skin. 

    “Will you ever bring me out? It’s kind of depressing being stuck in this room all day.” Angel pouts once again. She glances around her— it’s the same white walls she sees everyday, empty and bare with no decorations. Apart from the window beside her bed, there is a small wooden cabinet, but that’s it. 

    Devin is quiet. Angel has been pushing his limits for a while now. At this moment, he feels that she’s overstepping. He tries to push down the anger simmering in him, but it isn’t working. He climbs out of the bed.

    “Devin?” Angel whimpers.

    He decides not to further the argument, instead to be the bigger person by avoiding the conflict. “I’m going to go downstairs for a bit.” he says, pressing his nosebridge with his thumb and index finger. Devin doesn’t wait for her reply before leaving the room and slamming the door shut.     

    “Fuck,” Devin curses under his breath as he makes his way down the stairs two steps at a time, “Fuck!” he yells aloud to nobody in particular. His deafening shout echoes around the living room, but it doesn’t reach Angel’s room as it’s soundproof. He can’t let anything bad happen to Angel’s ears.

    “I fucking love her so much, she’s so beautiful and gorgeous and everything I love in a woman. But why does she keep acting like a brat?” Devin cries out in hysteria, violently clawing his scalp and tugging at his hair. He feels like he’s losing it. Slowly, she’s trying to assume control of him. He can’t let her do that.

    Devin throws the cabinet open, rifling through the contents frantically as if what he’s been keeping stashed in there wouldn’t be there. To his relief, everything is just in place, but now messily strewn all over because of his impulsiveness. Small containers of pills are now toppled over among each other, the arrangement in a disarray. But it doesn’t matter to Devin. They’re all steroids— different drugs of the same class to serve one purpose. He gingerly picks up the containers and examines their labels. To give him a sense of security. Prednisolone. Dexamethasone. He looks at Methylprednisolone. He’s been meaning to give those to Angel to try. Maybe he should try it now. Maybe it could warn her to keep within her line.  

    Devin’s fingers are trembling as he fumbles to pour the methylprednisolone pills into a small plastic cup. Suddenly, there’s a sharp rap on the main door, and he freezes.

    “Devin? Are you in there?” Devin recognises the hoarse voice that belongs to his high school friend, Caleb. He lets out the breath he has been holding, unsure of what he was expecting. Caleb was one of the jocks in the football team he had gotten along with pretty decently, and after graduating high school, Devin has only kept in contact with him. Occasionally he invites Caleb over to hangout, play video games and drink beer. Caleb doesn’t know about Angel though, Devin has kept her a secret locked away, and he has been doing a good job so far. 

    “One second,” Devin calls back, then closes up the cabinet and heads back up the stairs to Angel’s room.

    Angel is crying, her face streaked with fresh tears. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and she’s hugging her legs.

    Devin’s heart goes out to her, and he almost feels sorry for the way he had treated her earlier and the anger he had towards her. But then he grounds himself and firmly makes up his mind. The room is soundproof anyway. No sound can travel in and no sound can travel out. He closes the door and locks it.

    “Why did you pop by, Caleb? I don’t recall inviting you to hangout.” Devin opens the main door to greet his friend. He always makes sure to agree beforehand with Caleb if they’re gonna hangout so he doesn’t get surprise visits like this. He tells Caleb that he has his own schedule at home being a Youtuber, having to livestream at specific timings so as not to let down his viewers. He lets Caleb in and shuts the door behind him.

    “Well, uh… can’t I see my best bud? It’s a Sunday, and I’m bored to death at home.” Caleb says, plopping down on the sofa.

    “That’s a first. Ever since college started, your weekends are always spent at the clubs. Girls have never been boring for you.” Devin jokes. “Sometimes I envy you. Not that you’re a pharmacology major though.” He offers his best friend a canned soda from the fridge as he flips between the channels of the TV, trying to kill time.

    “Hold it,” Caleb says suddenly when the channel lands on the news channel.

    The news anchor reads: “Investigations are still ongoing for the case of Angelica Reynolds, the woman who has been missing for the last few months. The police seem to believe that…”

    “What’s so interesting about this news?” Devin rolls his eyes. 

    “Angelica Reynolds— she was from our high school. Don’t you remember her?” Caleb jabs his finger at the blurry picture of the girl on the screen. 

    “No, I don’t.” Devin says indifferently. “What makes you think I know her?”

    Caleb looks Devin straight in the eye, a look of confusion arranging on his features. “She was the head cheerleader. You had a big crush on her. You talked about her nonstop. Are you alright, Dev?” He flicks his attention back on the TV, at Angelica’s signature strawberry blond hair. 

    “Are we talking about the same me?” Devin grins, as if this entire situation is amusing to him. “I have never heard of this name nor seen this girl in my entire life…” he leans closer to the screen to scrutinise the picture.

    Devin’s face pales. Realisation dawns on him. Of course he’d recognised her. That girl is sitting in the room upstairs, crying her eyes out.

    Devin seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in. He shifts his gaze to Caleb very slowly, as if moving a little quicker would expose him. Caleb is staring back at him warily, and there’s a look in his eyes that tells Devin that Caleb knows he’s not letting on something. He draws in a sharp breath.

    “Caleb, I’m not feeling too well,” Devin lies, clutching at his stomach. He makes a big show of doubling over and groaning. “I think I’ve had a few too much caffeine this morning, you know how milk really opens my bowels…”

    Caleb struggles not to give his incredulous expression away or the fact that he’s stalling for time. The strange discoveries he had made the couple of times he’d come over to Devin’s to hangout plays in his mind. Devin’s paranoia about going upstairs, claiming about a non-existent dog with trust issues when Devin had dog allergies. The strawberry blond lock of hair and the containers of steroids under his couch, which was alarming to Caleb with its negative side effects like muscle thinning, weakening bones and insomnia. Devin seems to believe that sweeping his secrets under will keep them hidden. The last straw was actually seeing a slender figure by the window this morning, their long strawberry blond hair whipping wildly in the wind.

    “All the more I should stay, right? To look after you?” Caleb eyes him cautiously.

    “I don’t need taking care of,” Devin grunts, annoyed. 

    A tense silence hangs in the air as Devin gets up pretentiously like he can’t walk with his stomach gurgling. Caleb’s eyes are on him the entire time. He shuffles slowly to the kitchen counter, then opens the cabinet, reaches to the top and takes a small red container at the corner.

    “Diarrhea medication,” Devin tells Caleb. “I can take care of myself. I would really rather you go.” He urges his friend, praying that he wouldn’t be so stubborn and just leave. He knows that Caleb has an inkling, from the way he brought up Angelica and the look in his eyes. Anxiety is crawling up his spine. Devin has never been this panicked; he’s struggling to keep his voice steady amidst his growing apprehension. 

    “Oh, well, I wouldn’t.” 

    Devin takes it as his cue. It doesn’t matter what happens next. He has already planned all this out if something like this were to happen. He grabs the ceramic flower vase on the counter and hurls it at him. It shatters into shards all over Caleb, the force pushing him onto the ground. Fresh red blood oozes from where he is clutching his head. Pained moans escape his lips as he collapses, the blood running down his arms. 

    “Y-you’re—too—late,” Caleb struggles to spit out the words, blood sputtering from his mouth. “T-The police—they’re coming. C-Coming for you… kidnapper.” 

    “Shut up!” Devin screams.

    Angel’s door bursts open just as the front door is flung open. Devin locks the door and pushes the wooden cabinet by the wall to block the door.

    Angel is watching Devin with bewilderment the whole time as he drops to his knees at her bedside.

    “Angel, let’s go,” Devin says breathlessly, “We’re going together. I’ve dreamt of this my entire life.”

    “Where?” Angel asks innocently. 

    Devin takes the red container from his pocket and reveals the contents: two white capsules. The room door is loudly rapped on as police on the other side bellows at Devin to open up.

    “We don’t have much time. We have to eat this medicine first.” 

    Angel doesn’t argue. She just knows that whatever Devin is asking her to do, it’s the right thing. She takes one of the capsules and pops it in her mouth just as Devin does. Then he links his hands with her as his eyes bore deep into hers.

    And when they are both frothing at their mouths, their lips upturned into smiles, their eyes empty and peeled open, the door is kicked open, collapsing before them.