When Sparks Fly (21 page)

“Because some stories thrive in the middle, without an ending. If you meet me then it will be over and I don’t want it to be over, not yet.”

I read her reply, dissected it until I couldn’t breathe. I believe it in the fiber of my soul, Raven is my Angel. All I can do is wait now. I know Jeremy will confront her with our conversation and she’ll do one of two things: admit the truth or continue to lie. My bet is on the lie and that right there makes me extremely sad because I
want
this to end. Not her and I, but me and Raven. If Angel misses me then she needs to fucking say it. If Angel wants to be inside my head, then it’s hers. I’ll give her the thread to sew herself inside. Angel is and always will be my scar, not Raven.

I stare at my computer screen, wondering what words I should type to Raven. She needs a reply, one that might open Pandora’s box. My fingers begin moving like they have a mind of their own, which often is to be the truth.

“Or maybe it could be the beginning of a story that never had an ending,” I type and wait.

Seen. She’s read the message and I fidget while the box alerts me of her typing.

“All stories have endings, don’t they?”

I sigh at the defeat I believe she feels.

“Do you believe that stories begin on the first page or is it possible that a lifetime occurs before the first chapter?”

“When I open a book I imagine the prologue. So no, I don’t believe the first chapter is truly the beginning. I believe stories have beginnings well before the first chapter, even before the prologue.”

“So what would make you think a story ends on the last page?”

Her response guts me open. “Because on the last page in my story I said goodbye when what I really wanted to say was please stay. When you asked if my heart had been broken before, I didn’t explain it well. I should have said that I broke my heart by breaking his. That was the end of my story because that was the end of us.”

What am I supposed to say to that? She has to know I’m on to her and we’re still stuck in the mud of bitter truths and half lies.

“A true love story never ends, Raven.”

“Is that why you wrote Fallen Angel because you believe in redemption, in second chances?”

I wrote Fallen Angel because the story of us wouldn’t leave my head. And it’s not about us, not entirely. The story written on those pages is very fictional, but the symbolism is not.

Aria always believed Micah was her angel sent to protect her from evil. His light shined in her darkness, making her believe in spirituality and love. His art was magnificent and his touch was divine. Then one day Micah vanished without a goodbye, leaving her vulnerable and weak, taking with him her heart. Her body once a canvas for his exploration became a hollow vessel of broken pieces.

Landon spent a lifetime watching Aria with rapt attention—waiting, wanting, but she never knew. He felt jealous rage over the constant affection she bestowed unto Micah when she wasn’t his priority. His own heart broke at seeing her pieces scattered in the wreckage of a break up. Micah might have been her angel, but she was his and he wanted nothing more than to unclip her wings. From agony and despair she found contentment in his love for her. Little by little he brought her back to life with messages of hope.

Just when Aria began to breath again, Micah returned only to steal the breath right from her lungs.

And so began a dance with the angels—one fallen and one midflight. Only one choice would silence the demons, the other would sentence one to a life of misery. Will it be the fallen angel, Micah, or will it be the protector, Landon, that wins the heart of Aria in the end?

“I believe in both, yes,” I reply, thinking about the story I wrote.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“How did you choose?”

“Choose what?”

“For Aria. How did you choose between Landon and Micah? I mean, you could have written it anyway you wanted. Why Micah? He abandoned Aria and she just forgives him. I felt bad for Landon.”

Because I’m Micah and I wanted you to choose me.
I bet she did feel bad for Landon being as though that’s how she chose, right?

“Hmm… So you think she should have chosen Landon because Micah was a selfish son of a bitch?” I feel angry and I shouldn’t. She’s right.

“No, I didn’t say that. I think Aria was brave to choose Micah. She could have chosen Landon. He was after all safe and comfortable. With Landon she didn’t have to fear being heartbroken again.”

“And with Micah she did?”

“Yes. He was an artist, traveling the world while she was home falling apart. He walked away from her before. How could she trust he wouldn’t do it again?” So that’s it. I left her before and she didn’t trust her heart with me.

“Perhaps, Aria was foolish in the end. You never know what happens after the epilogue. She could very well have reeled him back in, forgiven him and then killed him one night in his sleep for pleasure. She could be a sadist. Slicing open his chest the same way he did hers when he left. It’s fiction after all.”

“Oh, my God. That’s sick. Aria is definitely not a sadist. Masochist maybe.”

“Masochist? Why?”

“Because she took a risk. She knew it could be painful to be with Micah again, but she believed with that pain could be amazing pleasure. She chose the one who hurt her without a second thought. His touch ignited her and she was consumed, possessed by him. He wasn’t the fallen angel. She was. I think I envy Aria. She did something I couldn’t do.”

I gasp and run my hand into my hair. My breathing becomes shallow and I find myself aching. For her.

“I think I envy Micah,” I type.

She doesn’t reply and when my newsfeed refreshes and I see a post made by her, by Raven Elise, I want to scream.

Fear will pass, but regret will last forever and I… I regret so much. Living in a lie protected me from the truth, the truth that I no longer had you. I pretended, danced in guilt and I’ll remain here alone in the storm of sorrow with my secrets as company. This is my own beautiful hell where you were once my devil. But the flames are licking now, they burn because it’s all too real and I think you know. Your raven feeds on the carnage of the damned, and inside her beak are angel wings that once belonged to you. Just a nibble became a full on frenzy of hunger and now she’s ashamed of the dark creature she’s become. It’s just that in the darkness are the whispers of the fallen and it’s the fallen that she craves. She can’t stop the hunger. She can’t forget the taste of sin on her tongue. Addiction leads to lies and lies become walls and behind those walls hides a secret. Will you keep it?

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

‡
Chapter Five

Angel

He knows Raven is Angel. He has to. It’s not a coincidence that our conversations have become dangerously close to confessions so I write the status like a person possessed by a demon and I wait. I speak to him in his poetic language, laughing at the comments below from strangers that don’t know me. The Internet, especially in the book world is full of deception.

Oh, my God! Are you testing the waters as a writer, Raven?

Is this a teaser? If so, what book? I want.

Damn, Raven. That’s deep.

Then there’s his.
And you said you couldn’t write. My ass.

“What’s this I hear about you creating a fake Facebook account so you could stalk Kane?” Avery says, peeking her head into the doorway.

I sigh as I close my laptop. “Damn, Jeremy. I told him I would talk to you about it.”

“So it’s true?” Her voice squeaks.

“Yes, it’s true, but it was supposed to be innocent and then… then it wasn’t and I… Fuck! I should have told him the truth, but I didn’t and now it’s a mess because he knows.”

Her eyebrow lifts so high. “He knows?”

I nod my head. “Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure or definitely sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

I explain the book dedication and what he said to Jeremy. I explain our conversations and innuendos. And then I tell her about my post as Raven. I even open my laptop and show her things.

“Wow!” she whispers. “You’ve gone mad, Angel,” she says, falling back on my bed.

I have. It’s not a lie. “I didn’t mean to. Honestly. I created the page with the intention of just telling him that I loved his books and maybe read his posts and shit. I never imagined he’d begin to trust me and pull me into his circle. I never once thought we’d message daily and be friends.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

I sigh heavily. “I don’t know. Cry.”

Avery turns on her side and looks at me. We’re facing one another and it reminds me of high school. How she and I would lie on the bed and talk about boys then watch hours of the Step Up movies.

“He doesn’t sound angry about this, Angel. If anything, it seemed as though he was a willing participant, like a game.”

I laugh. “It’s like this quote I read on Pinterest. ‘We’re all in the same game, just different levels. Dealing with the same hell, just different devils.’”

Now, she laughs. “Okay, Kane is obviously rubbing off on you with all this deep shit.”

My phone pings on the nightstand and she reaches over to see it. “You have a Facebook message,” she says. “Or maybe Raven does.” She winks at me and nudges me to open my laptop because I don’t have the app on my phone to allow me to read messages.

“No, you need to get out. If it is from him I think I want to read it alone.” She gives me sad eyes and a pouty face. “Please?”

“Okay,” she says with reluctance, but gratefully she retreats and I sit up in my bed steeling myself for his wrath. I hold my breath thinking this is it—the moment I say goodbye to Kane once and for all.

I open my laptop and find that I don’t have an email from Kane on Raven’s page. Confused, I reach for my phone to find out which Facebook page I’m signed in to and gasp when I realize that it’s my personal one. Kane messaged me on my own page. I turn back to my laptop and sign out of Raven’s page and into my own. I swallow down my trepidation and stare at the friend request I have from K. West. I open his page and stare with longing at his face. My finger hovers over the accept button when another ping alerts me of a notification. My eyes widen and my heart skips a beat when I see that it’s a second friend request, but this one is from Kane Michael West.
What’s this mean? Oh, my, God.
I accept both, then I look that I now have two direct messages.

I click the top box and bite my lip when I see one is from K. West and the other is from Kane. Confusion crinkles my brow and my fingers tremble. I open the one from K. West first.

“Addiction leads to lies and lies become walls and behind those walls hide a secret. The secret is that you are my, Raven. Now, will you please release her wings and let her fly to me?”

Oh, my God! Without replying, I open the second message from Kane and my eyes well with tears.

“If you missed me, Angel, you should have just said so. I’m right here. Being as though your alter identity and mine have been friends for over a year now, I think it’s only fair that you and I become friends again as ourselves. Don’t you?”

I bite my lip so painfully and stare at the computer screen. I don’t know what to say. I’m scared shitless. I roll the words around in my head until I think I know what to say.

I reopen the email from K. West and reply. “She’s released and yours.”

Then I open the one from Kane and type the words that scare me the most. “I miss you,” and I wait.

Kane replies, not K. West and I smile. “I miss you, too. I’m not sure whether I want to strangle the life out of you or kiss you senseless.”

I laugh at his response, relief rippling away. “I think the sense left me a long time ago.”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty brilliant if you ask me. You had me fooled, Raven.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“What gave me away?”

“The truth in the words you weren’t saying. You’re frustrating, do you know that?”

“Yes.”

“And confusing.”

“I’m aware.”

“What does this mean, Angel? Where do we go from here?”