Flash: Fallen Angel

Image by marcolm on FreeDigitalPhotos

“I’m so sorry.” The man hopped on one leg trying to get into his pants. “Sorry, so sorry. I… I’m sorry. Sorry.”

Sarif shyed her soulful, tear-filled eyes away from the man and his still excited prick, biting her abused bleeding lips. Hiding behind her blonde tresses, she turned her face into her shoulder, curling her legs to her body and gripping the angry red and purple bruises on her arms while holding the sheets to her breasts. Behind her, pure white wing spread wide, proclaiming her angelic heritage.

The man kept up his sobbing non-stop apologies, sticking his arms into the shirt and buttoning it up, missing several connections in his haste. He left one shoe behind when he slammed the door, running, trying to escape from his guilt. It chased him from the apartment and down the hall, into the rest of his life. Rage and self-hate grew daily as he never could forgive himself; anger at his unholy actions brought his fists up again and again, striking out at others in blame for his own failings, until his destroyed future crushed him.

Waiting, waiting, just in case he returned, Sarif held the pose, not moving, thinking on her short time with her rescuer. Just two days ago, the man had discovered her bruised, broken body from the side of the road after another one of the unending clashes with her opposites in the Battle. Caring and eager to help, he bathed her wounds while his eyes stared at her glowing soft wings. Her diety-blessed healing, restoring her within hours, astounded him further. Since he first lifted her up out of the muddy trench, the man never left her side, rapidly falling in love. Being human, sexual frustration slunk behind like a jackal, waiting for moments of weakness. Possession flared his emotions, one log upon another in the bonfire of his unhealthy desires: his angel, his love, his rescue, his female. Until the only thought remained, the coveting of heaven’s own, a single concept, — “his”.

Finally assured man wouldn’t be returning, Sarif started laughing. Full body shakes took her, slipping the sheet down perky, eternally-young breasts to pool around slim girl hips. Never had she had a man succumb to her temptations so quickly. A new benchmark for her to break. Why humans thought her kind were wrinkled, red, horned, and ugly, she would never understand. They were fallen angels; no one had taken their wings.

(Words: 409; First published 10/27/2019)