When I was six, my guardian angel stood at the foot of my bed, white feathery wings and long blond hair kept the bad dreams away. I knew that I was safe as long as she was near me.

When I was ten, my guardian angel sat with me and we talked all night, her wings lost their feathers and had black sparkles instead. She told me stories of gothic castles, or princes saving their princesses from the evil dragons.

When I was twelve, my guardian angel came some nights and sat in the corner, her hair now black and her wings were torn and tattered. She would watch me cautiously from her corner, her black hair falling over her eyes.

When I was fourteen my guardian angel disappeared, I stayed up at night waiting for her to return, but she never came. The nights stretched on, but no matter how much I screamed or cried, she never came back.