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“I don’t know. I don’t know if I will be OK.
I used to help people and then move on.  I couldn’t stay around for long, not without them noticing that I am
eternally youthful.
I’d miss them, but I’d soon distract
myself with my new assignments. But you, you changed that. I am different.
It’s irreversible, I can
’t go back to how I used to be.
I am forever altered and I have no idea of how I will cope with
just being an angel again.
But it will make it easier for me if I know you are living your life as if I never came to you.”

“
I’m irreversibly altered, too.”
I was panicking now, time was slipping away and I ha
d nothing of him to hold on to.
“Please think of a way that you can just l
et me know that you’re alright. What about feathers?
Didn’t you say angels left feathers for people?”

“We do.”
He hesitated.

“Can’t you do that?”

“Will you move on, if you’re always on the look out for messages from me?” H
is eyes searched mine.
I looked away, trying to avoid the questio
n, but he wasn’t letting it go.
In the end, I stumbled over the words:

“I’ll try.”

“That’s not good enough
.
If you want me to find a way to contact you, y
ou have to promise to move on.”
His eyes pleaded with me to promise, and I could feel my eyes pleading w
ith him not to make me promise. My heartbeat filled my ears. I closed my eyes. I’d lost.

“I promise.”

He kissed me, holding me close, relief cascading through his body.

“Thank you.
”
He said the words like a prayer.

I was sobbing, unable to stop myself, unable t
o be brave, for my sake or his.
“It’s re
ally going to be over isn’t it?
This is really the end?” I cried.

He nodded sadly. “The Dominion do not change their minds.”

The clo
ck chimed.
Midnight.

“Marty?” I coul
d hear the begging in my voice.
He kissed me, a passionate, yearning, insatiable, goodbye kiss.

“I love you, Claudia.” His voice was cracked, broken.
Like both our hearts.

“I love you.” The lump in my throat didn’t prevent me from speaking the truth.

The clock continued to chime. I stared at Marty.
He started to become pale, the window frame be
hind him becoming more visible.
I touched his face, watching him fade away, beco
ming more and more translucent.
He reached out to wipe my tears away with his thumb, but this
time I couldn’t feel his touch.
He melted away and I was left looking at the window, watching the snow fall soundlessly.

Chapter 16

I don’t know how long I stood staring at where he’d been standing. I cried soundlessly, as I waited for him to reappear, unable to believe he was truly gone forever. My tears echoed the descent of the snowflakes outside; an endless supply of broken dreams. As the time passed, and I realised he was not coming back, the silent tears became uncontr
ollable, primal howls of pain.
I col
lapsed to the floor, shattered.
I sobbed until I didn’t have any more tears left, growing colder
with every moment that passed.

I would have
stayed there, broken, forever.
The only reason I moved was the thought of Marty watching me fall apart, desperate to make me
better, but powerless to help. I wondered how he was feeling.
Was the pain compounded for him, dealing with his own gri
ef and bearing witness to mine?
Did the sight of me, heart ripped apart, m
ake him regret ever meeting me?
The thought produced a fresh batch of
tears and an ache in my chest.
I had told him it was better to have loved and lost, but right now the pain was too overwhelming to find anything positive to hold on to
.
I couldn’t h
ave him wishing we’d never met.
I considered how I would feel, if our places were switched and I was looking down over him, ob
serving his pain and suffering.
Yes, it was definitely harder for him, and I had to try to be stronger, I couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Still crying, I pulled myself up to a sitting po
sition and rested on the floor. It was a start.
For a fleeting moment, I was reminded of the time when Marty had left me crying in the hall, how he had come back and carried me to the so
fa.
What would I ha
ve done if he hadn’t come back?
I would have eventually risen and repaired my life,
surely. I decided to stand up.
My legs felt like jelly, numb from spen
ding so much time on the floor.
I staggered up to our bedroom, remembering that
it was just my bedroom now. I looked around the room.
It was exactly
as I had left it this morning.
Everything I could see was in its place, the room still had its familiar comforting scent, there was nothing
noticeably different.
It was hard to accept how much life had changed
in the few intervening hours.
I’d almost been killed by a falling stage light, been saved by the love of my life, been summoned by powerful angels, and
then lost the love of my life.
Part of me hoped it was all a bad dream and if I could wake u
p I’d be safe in Marty’s arms.

I crept into the bed, no
t bothering to brush my teeth.
Marty’s scent still lingered on his pillow and I gratefully pressed my face into the soft cotton, longing to capture the way it felt to embrace him. I tried to imagine him being here with me, clinging onto the memory, refusing t
o let it fade away like he had.
I stayed in that position, breathing in the precious aroma left on the pillow, until I drifted into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, I had that moment when you first wake up and think everything is OK, before the memory of the events that had occurred the previous ev
ening came flooding back to me.
My stomach churned a
s I recalled the awful details.
It wasn’t a nightmare, it had been
real, and I was now alone.
I struggled to stay st
rong, to not break down again.
I had no idea of the time, and as I glanced around the room, trying to locate my mobile phone, I noticed Marty’s book where he’d
left it on the side of the bed.
I immediately picked it up, desperate to h
ave something tangible of his.
I held it against my chest, as though it would be
able to mend my broken heart.
I
turned off the bedside light.
It was still dark outside, and I
no longer cared about the time.
I had nothing
worth getting up for.
I lay on my back, in the darkness, still clinging onto Ma
rty’s book, too upset to sleep.
I cried constant, silent tears, which raced down the side of my face and made my hai
r damp where they came to rest.
I hoped Marty wouldn’t be
able to see me in the dark.
My thoughts were also dark, and I started plotting ways to kill myself, if I ever fou
nd the energy to leave our bed. I knew I wouldn’t do it.
The only reaso
n standing in my way was Marty.
There was a twisted irony – I couldn’t live without
him and I couldn’t die for him.
Still, it gave me something to focus on other than my pain and I tried to conjure up elaborate plans that I knew
I wouldn’t see to completion.

I’d fallen asleep again, waking with a start at the sound of
the telephone ringing.
It was light outside the windows, and I knew from the almost blue glow of the light and the excited shouts of children, that
the snow had settled overnight.
I struggled to pull myself upright and reached to the bedside table for the phone.

“Hello?” I sounded groggy and weak.

“Claudia?
Are you alright
?” Aunt Sandra’s voice replied.
She sounded concerned.

I swallowed, trying to m
ake my voice sound more normal.
My mouth was dry and I now regretted no
t brushing my teeth last night.
I had a lot of r
egrets about last night though.
“Yeah, I’m…” dying of a broken heart? Depressed because my angel-love left me? Irreparably destroyed? Planning elaborate methods of suicide?

“Hung over?”
Aunt Sandra guessed.

I sighed.
“Something like that.”

“You students. You sound really bad.
And you’ll get no sympathy fro
m me, it’s all self-inflicted.”
She giggle
d and I felt like crying again.
My wounds were self-inflicted, I should have asked Marty to leave before I fell so deeply for him.

“I know.” I was struggling to speak.

“How’s Marty?” Hearing his name cut like a knife, I flinched involuntarily.

“He…he’s left.”

“For a lecture?”
Of course, she still th
ought he was a medical student.
Part of me desperately wanted to play along with her assumption, to create a pretence where I could expect to see him walk through the door at any moment.

“No…he’s left…” me, I thought, “here.”

“What? He moved out?” Sandra sounded shocked.

“Yes.”  I bit my lip to stop from crying, staring at the ceiling in an effort to stop my tears spilling over.

“But…he was perfect.”
I could almost hear her jaw drop to the floor over the phone.

“He was.”
A sob broke through my voice.

“Claudia, when did he leave?” Her anxiet
y made her voice sound clipped.
I could imagine her worrying, thinking I would no doubt fall apart again, and wondering who would be able to look after her children if she had to come and pick up the pieces of my life again.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm her fears, even if they were entirely right. I could never explain why Marty’s leaving was having
such a profound effect on me.
Nob
ody would ever understand this.
“Last night,” I said, finally.

“Why?”

Her simple question w
as the hardest one to answer.

“Claudia?
Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Why did Marty leave? Did som
ething happen between you two?”
H
er perceptiveness startled me.
I figured there was no reason to lie about my feelings now, I just had to keep his secret safe.

“Yes, we fell in love.” My attempts to hide my distress crumbled away, and my voice crackled with emotion.

“Claudia, I hate to ask, but why did he leave?”

My body shook with a huge sob. “He had to help other people, really far away.”

“He’s v
olunteering abroad?
He’ll be back someday, maybe you can pick up where you left of
f.
You’re both so young, if it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.” Sandra was always the eternally hopeful romanti
c. I hated to burst her bubble.
Her assumption about him working abroad made sense and I’d use that if
anyone else asked where he was.
It was as close to the truth as possible.

“I hope so.” I knew it was hopeless, but in my head I pictured a daydream, where the Dominion realised their error and sent him back to me. I revelled in the montage m
y brain created of our reunion.
Reality felt like a slap in the face when I opened my eyes.

“Do you want me to come visit you?” I could hear the wheels in motion in Sandra’s head already, planning how to explain to her children she was leaving them again, wondering which train she could catch, how long I wou
ld need her to stay.
I didn’t want to burden her.

“No. I’ll be fine.
It’s just still raw,” and open and gaping, and pouring blood out of me, I thought.

“He only just left
, time heals everything.
I’m here if you need me, just call and I can be on a train.” There was the faintest tinge of relief in her voice, which I hoped was because she thought I was alright, not because she had escaped a trip to see me.