As we strolled into the hospital, I couldn’t help thinking about Maroon 5’s “Harder to Breathe” because I was having a difficult time staying calm. I had been kidnapped and beaten senseless by an agent of Lucifer, and yet the white coats the doctors wore scared me just as badly. The men who had taken me from my mother wore those same damned lab coats. Every time I saw one, it awakened a dormant fear inside me—fear that I’d be dragged away from someone I loved again, fear that I’d be placed into the waiting hands of another horrible person. It would never truly go away.Michael’s shoulder bumped mine, which shook me out of my thoughts. I glanced at him. “What?”“You’re frowning.”“Am I supposed to be smiling right now?”He faced forward, looking at our reflection in the elevator doors. “No, but you look like you’re about to bolt at any second.”I watched the digital numbers change one by one as we rose up to the right floor, fiddling with the rosary in the pocket of my leather jacket. Somehow, the beads had a calming effect on me. “I’m fine.”“Hard ass.”A tiny smirk touched my lips. “Stop thinking about my butt. You’re an archangel.”He grinned, but didn’t reply.
Kyoko M., The Black Parade
angels, flirting, ghosts, hospital, the-black-parade