This was a story idea snippet. I wrote it about a year ago, and my girlfriend and I both said it was too heavy to write back then. It's one of the most brutal serial killer type books since American Psycho. I have a lot of other stuff to write, but I did write the introductory chapter. Angel is not the actual title, of course, but I learned to keep my titles secret until I publish. Call it superstition.
She traveled between two worlds, never knowing which was which. Heaven? Hell? By the time she got there, she had forgotten.
But in the meantime, while traveling, she was aware. Mostly aware. She didn't have all the answers, making full consciousness impossible.
How could the devil love her more than her own family, she wondered. Wouldn't that mean they were the real devils, here? She tried to think in other terms, but, no, she wasn't human. She was Angel.
Why, then, did she have human memories?
It was her understanding that humans died and became angels like her. Except for the ones that don't. She didn't want to think about them. But that should rightly leave her with a single himan life to remember, at best.
She remembered many.
Parts of many. They were occluded, hazy. It was like watching a movie through a pane of frosted glass.