My name is still whispered in the halls of death. Like a secret, I am shared from ear to ear. Who am I? That is the wrong question to ask. Maybe the right question is “Who was I?” That is for you to find out.
It was the winter of 1923 when my mother brought my cursed life to the world. I don’t blame her. How was she to know that I was going to end up a monster? I didn’t cry when I exited my mother’s broken body. Was that a sign? With her nimble hands she held me so close. She would look into the blue eyes of a beast and say,

“Welcome home Abel. Welcome to the world.” With those six words, she took her last breath. I had killed the one person that brought life. A monster I was from the womb. I grew up with my father. He was a strapping man, who saw justice and yelled of war in the world caused by the man Adolf Hitler. When I would need punishment, the light I would see was from the basements square window in the door. In there, my father chose his way of beating and would make sure the next day that I was unable to move from the old bed. It was the same bed I made my first entrance. He would shout such things like,
“You are the disgusting life that took my wife.” Or things like, “You have no place in this world, but hell and one day, I will send to there.” Eventually, I was able to recite each insult my father gave me. In fact, I was able to predict which one would come spitting out of his lips. Each time another scar was made on my body, I just let go of the world. That day, when everything happened set my fate in place. As my father raises his hand to strike my bare back, I turned and faced him. This didn’t stop the old man from hitting the child that took his love away. His big hand came down to embrace to soft skin below my eyes, which were now grey. I didn’t cry, instead I opened my mouth.

“Did mother welcome you to the world? Did she make you at home or did you force her into here?” A small voice that never spoke triggered a bigger anger in the man that was already angry. His belt was removed and began whipping the skin that was already bruised. Not another word did I say. Not in fear, but in madness. From my pocket I took out a stick that had a pointy tip. On days like this, the outside became my soul and the wind that blew the brown hair that was to my ears away from my face was my heart. My fragile body would sit on an old rock and from a cabinet; a knife I stole would begin to cut the stick like my body was. Now it was a carved piece of my life that was being plunged into my father’s chest. I did not cry a single tear for the man that has cried many in the loss of his heart. His eyes became wide in surprise and I looked right in them.

“You can go live with the women I took now. Goodbye.” My cold words were like the cold breeze that hit his neck. There was no sympathy for the unloving and the nonliving. I lay his unmoving body down on the cold floor, leaving his almost black eyes opened. I want him to see me walk away. From the witness tile, I walk unto the wooden stairs that led to my eternal freedom. At the top, I looked around what I called my cage, once more before quickly slipping my faded shoes on from years ago and grabbing the dead man’s jacket from the coat hanger. My pale fingers reached toward the door knob that seemed to keep me away before. Turning it, I smell the fresh air and the small snowflakes that came whirling to my slim face. The sudden coldness on my cheeks started to melt away. How familiar it seemed to me. This snow was the second to welcome me to this world, and I intended to embrace it. I took that one step of freedom, then another. Slamming the door, my feet excited to move, began to run as fast as I could. Eyes wide open, arms moving as quickly as my feet, I was free and I was never going to go back.
When night approached, fears that werenever possible to have as a young boy never flooded my head. It was as if I lost all touch with anything that meant to feel.My feelings were locked away in a box I have buried deep inside, how do you suppose I get them out?The nearest house to me shined with a yellow glow. With that light alone, I could see that is was painted completely blue with white outlining. The door seemed to be a giant to my frail body. My hands, shaking with the blood that flows in my body, reached to knock on the glossy wood. A plan already formed began to play in my head like a movie behind my eyes. With only one thud sounding knock, a girl no older then I in her night dress laced in white opened, sealing her life in my hands. I smiled politely. “Is your mum home dear child?” I may have only been thirteen, but my voice was one of a man.Growing up in the house of my father, you had to. The little girl nodded and walked away only to return with a beautiful middle aged women. She looked at my hands, quickly grasped them and look into my eyes with almost pity with a dash of horror.


“My boy, what has happened?” I hid my smirk that wanted to creep onto my face which went straight to needy.

“My father ma’am, my father was murdered.” Her face, horror struck and confused, automatically told me I had a place to sleep. With a gentle hand placed on the lower part of my back, she swiftly guided me to the bathing room. Inside the sea of blue, I had heard a radio playing what should be happy news.
“In Germany, Adolf Hitler is arrested for attempt to seize power.” My father would be sitting in his old, worn down chair with a beer and say to me,
“Son, that is one less monster in the world.” Oh if my father got to see me now. I wouldn’t be any better than the Nazi that still killed after his master was caged. But now, instead of a cheer I had a woman turning the warm water on, demanding that I bathe and be clean of any “torturing” thoughts of my father. I did as she commanded, but the woman was unable to escape. She was going to die; her daughter my prize.
While I was still a caged bird, I had a dream. It was a message from the angel of death himself.
“Do tell me Abel, will you be the heir to my thrown?” Those words were the only spoken for truth. My answer was my eyes that had opened from a life changing sleep. I, Abel, will be the Angel of Death; I wasn’t going to fail my duty. Hushed whispers I could hear from the room I was in. Soaked in water the fell down my body, I stood. Without and cover, I walked to the woman in silence, for death hurts less if you do not expect it. With eyes of a caring mother, she looked down and I motioned for her to bend down to hear my whisper.

“The blood that now runs in your drains was the blood of a man that deserved to die by my hands.” In horror, the women put together what I had said and put her arms up to defend her. It was useless, for I still had the sharpened stick that now was plunging into the soft skin of the mother’s stomach. No heartbeat, no longer did life run through her veins. Her daughter now stands in the doorway of the bathing room, her cotton white night dress becoming wet from the water on the tile.

“Her time had come. Dear one, I am the Angel of Death and I need someone to come with me and learn my ways.” I saw nothing in response from her. My hands, covered in the fresh blood of her mother, stretched out.

“Take my hand. Come do the work of God with me. Be an angel.” The child raised her hand to grab mine. I grasp the hand tightly, and wickedly flash a devilish grin.
Leaving with now a pack of food and clothing, I was ready to go. My shirt was long, probably a man’s that once lived in that house. The pants were longer then my legs, but I could handle it. No words were spoken between us, the girl and I. Even so, I could hear her heart which said everything. It was as if she was calm, but there was a chill going through her body. Her blood was pumping from her tiny heart so loudly, I wanted it to stop. As tempting as it was, I restrained myself; I needed her to get through. My flawless life was all she knew, all I ever intend her of knowing. We were walking now, just up the road to a little town.

“Angel?” An innocent voice spoke.
“Yes dear child?”
“What do you plan to do when you reach town?” My smile was being slowly wiped away from my face. Still holding her hand, I turn to her.
“Do you not trust me?” There was no answer to my question.
“I said, do you not trust me?” I raised my voice, hoping she was not able to hear me. Who was this girl to not answer me? I am a god that holds the fate of her life in my hand. With her head low, we stood there and time slowly went by; time that could be used to get to town. This rage that was filling me swelled in my fists. Slowly opening them, my palms became exposed. Quickly; I brought down pain to the stubborn child. Now where my hand struck was a hand print.
“Stop being afraid.” With stern word, the girl nodded in response. There were no tears from her eyes.
We walked until there was no sun to see. From there, we set up a small camp by the road; a rock as our pillow. There was no fire, but only blankets to keep our shivering bodies warm. We laid soundlessly on the cold dirt. Unable to close my eyes, I look over to the girl.

“I wasn’t always this way, I promise.” The girl kept sleeping quietly, shivering from the coldness of the night.

“You must think that I am as cold as this night, that my heart is nothing more than the dirt we lay upon. You’re right. My mother was taken from me, unrightfully murdered by her son. Was I worth her death? Apparently not to my father, who never stopped thinking about how my life is cursed with death. He was right to beat me; I am a monster from the womb. Instead of tears falling, I got this feeling of emptiness inside my little heart. So, the little hole was filled with this idea of being death because I was one to bring it upon people. This evil-“ I patted my hurt heart. “Just happened to become my comfort zone after that. I did not intend to hit you dear child. Please, forgive the wicked.” The child rolled over on her side, her little blanket falling. I go to pull it over her. She does not need to be so cold. She has a chance of Heaven. I too roll to my filthy side. My eyes would not shut though, just a picture played like a movie in the back of my eyes of my mother. What did she feel like? Did dying to her son feel like betrayal?
Finally, I slept when the sun was going to be up, giving this light in the darkness of my shut eyes. The rest I got wasn’t long, but just enough to continue on. The girl awoke as soon as my dirt covered hand shook her.
“Are we leaving Angel?” Her blue eyes sink into my withered soul.
“Yes we are. Hurry and get ready, we cannot waste time.” With a quick pace, the girl packed her little belongings and began to walk beside me. We walked for hours it felt, just in silence.
“Angel?” The innocent broke the silence.
“Yes dear child?”
“Can I hold your hand?” I thought that my heart shattered the day my mother died, but I felt warmth comforting me. Quickly, I slid my hand into hers. Her palms were warm, but her smile was warmer. Why want to hold hands with such a beast?
“Angel?” Again, the girl spoke up.
“Yes dear child?”
“My name is Avigail Hope Yethers. My mother used to call me Avy. You can call me that too if you like.” My eyes shot to her face, she was smiling. I never wondered to ask for innocence’s name. Avigial, that means father’s joy. Did her mother know that her making of life would bring happiness?
“Dear innocent Avigail, I must ask. What happened to your father? For your name was given for him, but I not see a man in your home.” Her eyes fell to the ground.
“But Angel only if I could ignore your question. My father died Angel. He died month before I was to be born.” I felt pity for her. She didn’t kill her father, but he was gone before her first breath. No welcoming words could be told to her to her. I gripped tightly to her shaking hand. When I looked up to travel again in silence, we saw town.
We approached with caution. It was suspicious to walk into town with no older being. A man, who was turning grey with age walked up to us.
“What are these young folk doing here without an older person?” His way of talk irritated me, which made it twice as hard not to lash at him.
“Kind sir, my name is Abel; this is my dearest sister Avigail. We come to seek shelter from our home of pain.” The man looked us over, head to toe, making the wasted time itch under my skin. Avigail one of innocence held my hand strongly.
“Go, make haste then. There is an inn right there.” He points to a small place across the pebbled street. I nod, taking the girl with me.
“Angel? Is Abel your name?” I was caught in my own steps. My name hasn’t been spoken in the years I could walk. I nod slowly, but never once responding with words.
“Angel? Doesn’t Abel mean breath? Was it God’s plan to name one meaning breath that will be the angel, the god of death?” My voice was caught in my dry throat. Never once did the meaning of my name come to my mind. I always thought of it as just a name, nothing more. How was I going to respond?
“Someone once dear to me told me that my name means nothing more than taking another’s breath. As I take a breath, someone loses theirs.” That wasn’t lie. My dear father told me that. It definitely took me by surprise, it was a new insult. Instead of it hurting me, I let it sink into my soul. Our feet stepped into the already opened door. I believe it was supposed to make the dilapidated inn look somewhat remotely close to “house warming.”
“Welcome to the Cherry Wood Inn, how many rooms can I-“The older women looked down at us, not expecting two children to order a room.
“Oh you are just children! What are you doing here without an older person?” Again, there was annoyance that started to build in my body.
“Ma’am, my father was an abusive man. My sister and I come here to escape. Give us a week and we will be out of your way.” As hard as I can, I put on a face I never made before. It was one of pain.
“Please? Momma can’t fight anymore.” The sound of innocent Avigail shocked me, but it sold to the elder women.
“You will have room twenty-oh-four. Just a week now.” Her nimble hands reach down to give us the keys to the room. I quickly grab them, smile, and walk away without another word. Avigail walked close behind me, never once letting go of me. We walk with our heads low, causing minimal attention.
With a few more steps of our tired feet, we stand in front of our temporary room. I open the door fast, seeing the damage of this place. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. There was one bed, one bathing room, one small place of cooking; it was perfect in my eyes. I let go of Avigail’s hand, but that did not stop her from following me to my seat on the bed. I pat the empty space beside me.
“Sleep child. I must go out tonight.” She nodded, not questioning me. As the child got ready for cleaning and sleep, I slipped out of the room. I roam the hallways, thinking to only myself. Other hearts would beat by me, but never getting to close. It angered me. Why was it that I was a contradiction to life? I, the one that means breath sets out to have red stains on the carpets.
“See you got you self settled with your youngling sister.” It was the man from outside. His life was up in my mind.
“Kind sir, please tell me when I see you again to tell me how it felt.” The man looked confused as I slowly cornered him.
“What do you mean?” From my pocket, I pulled out the same stained weapon I used twice before.
“How it felt to die.” He was gone at my wish, No more breathing came, and I was a god here. In my hands was the choice of life or death.
I returned to the room to find Avigail hanging by a rope. Her eyes stared straight into my soul. Everything in my body seemed to break. My knees were unable to bare my small weight. There were cuts along her writs, blood dripping from her pure white dress.
“Oh my sweet, my innocence. What has come upon you to do this? Why end this? Did another god bestow this upon you? May you tell me so I may avenge the wrong?” Tears, ones that I thought were secured in a locked chest began to flow. A man, one looking like my father, stepped from behind the door.
“Are you feeling pain son? Are you feeling my loss of love?” Without a word, the girl’s mother walked from behind my father.
“Do you feel a tear in your heart? Like the one you gave to me?” My head falls to the floor. My sweet, sweet innocence. Why are you allowed to go? Why couldn’t it be me?
With scared eyes, I awoke from night’s sleep. Avigail lies next to me, unharmed. It was nothing more than a dream. My fear washed away from my heart.
“Avigail, be my heart that I thought I once lost. Stand by me and I’ll make you an angel of death that never touches a weapon of death. Be my innocent angel of death.” Swiftly, Avigail rolled over, looking into my grey eyes.
“Abel, I was having a dream. A dream where you were not hurting anymore; I can take you there.” I was confused, not knowing what the girl intended.
“As long as you are there with me.” I said with all sincerity.
“I promise I will. But would you like to go?” I nodded. A place where I am not hurting, where I can spend time with the girl that found my heart, when I thought it was left in the basement sounded like a Heaven to me. From her small pocket that I never noticed before, she pulled a silver knife. Without being able to protest, she stuck my death into my stomach. Is this what is feels like to die? This feeling of coldness and draining? I felt my vision blur.
“To..Together you s-said.” With that, the innocent nodded and pointed the knife at her heart.
“I meant every word.” That was the last I heard of her sweet voice. My eyes were shut to see her ending. A cold darkness covered me, like a blanket left out in the snow.
“Abel, I did not tell you it was time to go.” That voice, I know it.
“Abel, go back. It wasn’t your time. Go back and do my will as an angel of death.” My eyes opened to a bright sun beaming upon me. I was back.