Demi-Angel: Chapter 1- The devil's caretaker

The date was November 25th in the city of New Orleans, the sky was covered in an endless blanket of gray as the rhythmic drumming of thunder boomed in the sky. Displaying its powerful beat as the rains pelted the ground below, like a million strong army of ants marched over the rain soaked city. While lightning arced trough the cloudy mass, reflecting through the rain like a beautiful chandelier. And while the storm played its melody of patters and booms, a young child was busy snickering and bouncing without a care in the world. Giddy at the contents of the book in front of him, frantically flicking through page after page, hungrily consuming the contents of the book as it teleport-ed his mind to a place of magic and guardians, defenders against sins and shadows.

This energetic child is Thomas, now 8 years old, his skin is now a dark olive brown, while his tufts of hair has grown into a cloud like bush of messy black-silver hair that wraps around his face in pointed clumps. And at this moment, he sat in the middle of the orphanage beaming as he read his birthday gift. Awash in the patter of the rainfall that hit the building, smiling contently at their noise. The boy had always had a love for storms, even if they were dangerous sometimes. Especially where he lived, and when many of his peers had hated them, Thomas had loved them, they felt like, home to him in a way. He couldn’t explain it but, they just felt right to him.

Whilst the boy was enjoying his book, another child around the same age as him, shuffled up towards the little bookworm. He had floppy unkempt brown hair with freckled fair skin. His name was Johnathan, and to the approaching child, Thomas was interesting-albeit a little weird. But entertaining none the less because when other kids would play, Thomas played pranks. Whenever there were breaks from chores Thomas would read as opposed to the other kids who just talked or rested.

When John finally reached the boy he peered over Thomas’ book like a baby face tower of Sauron.

“H-hey, what’re ya reading?” he whispered curiously, receiving no reply. All he got were two stormy gray-blue eyes snapping up to his before they frantically returning to the book quicker than a blink. At this, John was a little confused but he asked again. This time, only earning a quick,

“Hm?” from the boy before he returned to the contents of the book as a mischievous smirk began to curl on his face. Giving a light chuckle. John began to join him in the game. After all what else is there to do on a stormy day.

“What's your name again? wasn’t it t..tuna or something?” The boy snickered lightly as he turned his head side to side, smiles grew on each of the boy's faces as this kept going. "that's not it huh? welll, what about Tin man?" soon enough Thomas' smile began to show teeth. Clapping his hand, John said "Oh! I know, its turkey tom" the brunette couldn't even keep his face straight for that one as the two boys began to snicker together.

Question after question, a small response was given, revealing more and more each time as John began to get a handle of the erratic nature of the kid in front of him. Topics zoomed by as the Thomas' attention quickly waxed and waned much like the storm overhead as they learned more about the other. What their favorite color is, (Blue and red respectively) to what book Thomas was reading, and so on and so on until they finally stated talking after Johnathan ran out of T jokes.

“heheh, Name’s Thomas by the way, Thomas Di Angelo!" the African chuckled finally resting the book down. "Aaaand, you're bad at names!" he teased smirking at the brunette.

“Ack, okay Thomas huh, well my name is Johnathan. Or just John if ya want!" he answered back mockingly offended by Thomas' comment.

“Alrighty, imma call you Johnny cocoa beans” Thomas joked as Johnathan rolled his eyes.

“Sure, as long as I can call you Tomcat.” The two boys laughed at their nicknames as they walked off just having fun, right after Thomas stashed (His prescious) book somewhere safe. Where he won't lose his place. Cause if he did, his foot and john were gonna have some talks.

After two years their bond grew more and more, and as it grew they saw the best and worst of each others traits. And in John’s case, it was his reluctance to enter the fray during stressful situations. For Thomas, this was his mischievous nature, never finding someone too big or too powerful not to make fun of. While it was fun to watch, it also made him the main target of some of the bullies in the orphanage. Sick and tired of being the punchline of another one of his pranks, as this swelled to a fever pitch on Thomas’ tenth birthday. A harsh storm raged overhead, like his other birthdays, but unlike those, this one was dangerous and wicked. As if the sky was trying to restrain itself from destroying the city beneath it. Unlike the other storms this one seemed to be followed with a darkness, and at its center were two boys in the orphanage, each surrounded by a ring of kids. All of them shouting and jeering for a fight, as Thomas and the heavy set older boy stared the other down.

One fuming with a red face while the other looked forward in a seemingly crazed energetic smile. The sound of chanting rang through the old building as their stomps and yells vibrated through the old wood below them. Whether anyone knew this or not, today was a turning point for something. And it weighed upon the two boys as they began to prod the other with insults.

“You brat! I don’t know why you keep lookin’ in those books so much. I mean we all know your parents are probably in the gutter somewhere. Probably with their face in a bottle or passed out in a puddle!” spluttering, the elder gave the boy a crooked buck tooth grin the more he dug deeper.

"Probably celebrating they left your stanky butt here!” Those words struck Thomas hard as his eyes began to twitch, anger crawled up his body scratching his chest as it heaved in a blustering breath while his mind dared him to swing a fist. Filling his head to the brim with say one more thing you fat Bastardo! Try me king kong! but in the end he bit his tongue and balled his fist. Feeling his nails dig into his palm as he fired back with a mocking open-mouth look primed on his face

“Wow, an original thought!” He mocked with surprise “Who would have thought he had a brain?! Let's give him a hand everyone! Because this is a historic moment! Bravo, bravo, he’s finally reached past a babies age in speech. “good for youuuuu” he drew out rolling his eyes before tucking his book underneath his arm, starting a clap as everyone followed along with him as a round of mocking applause filled the room as thunder joined in with them. The redness of the bullies face intensified as he felt more and more humiliation and anger with each cheer and whistle.

“I mean w'all thought it was just empty in there, guess ya got a microscopic brain then. But I bet by now ya can't understand me huh? So here, lemme translate.”

“Huuurb a deerp I fee smart. Me got goo brain, Me finally think!” He laughed as he held is book to his chest as he led his stomach. as he was joined by the crowd who either ooed or laughed alongside him.

At his words the older boy's face turned a new shade of red as he began to fume and fume, his breathing intensified as his throat began to growl with anger. His body began to shake with fury and annoyance with patches of humiliation to boot while his irises began to fade to a scarlet red as his grunts slowly began to get more and more inhuman. As the rain from outside pelted harder and harder like a crescendo, it seemed to be reaching a climax of some kind.

“Uh oh, looks like his brains gone, everyone. “Gosh darn it,” he said crossing his arms in a swing as he spoke with false sadness “he came so far too. Well, I guess you can't rely on everything I guess. Well then, ladies and gentleman, please let me announce the first ever human wart ho-” Before he could finish the bully punched Thomas in his gut. Instantly buckling over, coughing and gasping from his air being driven out. He could feel the knuckles burying and bruising itself in his stomach as he careened into the crowd, falling face first due to multiple people pushing him back as his head struck against the floor as his book flopped and tumbled to the foot of the bully. Thomas' head was reeling and he could barely hear what the bully was saying.

“Look at that, just like you and your family isn't it? Just a pile of useless, unwanted trash that belongs in the ground!” In a moment that seemed like time had stopped, Thomas saw the book he had cherished, ripped apart in front of his face, as a cool chill tore through the boy's veins. And with that final push, a cry broke through the chants as Thomas scrambled to his feet, bolting forward and tackled the bully to the ground, swinging and punching with all that he had in him. All of his anger, all of his sadness, all of his hidden thoughts, all the negative things that were in Thomas were infused with each punch as his knuckles attacked whatever part of the boy was exposed. Each strike was backed by a booming thunderclap as with each strike thrown was followed by a bolt of lightning ripping through the sky. Thomas was lost in his anger, he couldn't stop. In the gap between a flurry of blows, the bully kicked the wrathful child back, causing him to cough again as once more he went into the crowd. For a second, Thomas felt a pair of hands grip his loose raggedy clothes, John had gripped him and frantically tried to calm him down.

"Tom! stop you'll get in-" Thomas paid his friend no mind, all he was seeing was red, he rapidly ripped himself away from John and barreled back towards the now standing bully. Who now looked confused, he tried to ask for Thomas to listen but that fell on deaf ears. As once more the hurricane of blows continued.

With each hit the skin of his knuckles was exposed but he didn't care. With each hit, a part of the bullies face was broken and bloodied as hit after hit, Thomas’ fist had blood and most likely mucus covering his fists as his eyes were bloodshot and teary. The pain of his fists and exposure of his skin stung, but instead of pulling back it fueled the boy, Thomas began to enjoy it. With each new punch, the bully wept and begged for the onslaught to end but each plea was preaching to the choir as punch after punch rained down on his face. All of the cheering stopped as everyone began to murmur in fear. But did Thomas care? No, not even a little. He was enjoying his onslaught. A massive and monstrous storm of thoughts flooded his mind, each telling him to keep going, hit harder, don't let up now. make him feel all of your pain, he deserves it! This onslaught continued for what in thomas' mind felt like two minutes and as Thomas riled up his last fist, a sickening crack of a whip echoed through the air, stopping his fist in mid-arc as the room was driven into a deafening silence. While all eyes were on the caretaker, and her angry stride towards the pair, parting the sea of children as she made her way over as with each foot was a chilling. click, click, click.

She was the graying old caretaker of the orphanage, and she did not look pleased in the slightest. The old woman's wrinkled brow furrowed like two waves crashing against each other, while her tight bun bounced with each step. Her eyes were furious and showed the bowls of hell as she glared at Thomas with a frown, so dark and angry that if looks could kill. Everyone in the vicinity would die two times over. And now she walked towards Thomas with a stalking and angry manner like she was a starving predator, about to tear her prey limb from limb. Click, click, click went her heels as she now towered over Thomas, gripping his arm with an iron vise-like grip, ignoring any apology he gave as the anger had finally left him. But ultimately she dragged the child to her office before slamming the door with a deafening boom.

With one simple movement, the aging woman flung the child into a small stool as he crashed into the wooden object, nearly falling face first on the cold hard floor. While the caretaker paced around with that annoying click of her heels. Shaking her head and muttering scatter thoughts of disbelief, disgust, anger and disappointment. As if she was having a mental battle with herself as to how she would handle the events that just unfolded.

Thomas on the other hand slowly pried himself off the ice cold ground, as that AC was blasting on high. The room chilled Thomas to the bone, his body began to shudder as he could see his breath crystallize in the office as he was still thinking on the words of the bully. They turned over and over in his head as they were given more and more weight as his own thoughts began to envelop and strengthen them. Nearly reigniting his wrath but honestly, he had too many thought in his mind. There were so many that he couldn't even count, he thought of the pain in his knuckle, he thought of what was about to happen to him. he thought of so much. it was as if his thoughts were a never-ending hurricane as they stormed in his mind. This would have continued for a long time but there was a thought that broke through the others. It was of the caretaker, the old caretaker was strict, yeah, and she didn’t like fighting, but she never pulled down that old whip. For as long as he's been there that thing was collecting dust. Something was wrong, and the more he thought of it the more anxious and scared he became.

Even to the point where he began to shiver, and this time it wasn’t just because of the cold. Something dark was here, and whatever it was, it put his nerves on edge. He tried to listen to the pelting of the rain to calm himself but it didn’t bring him any comfort like it usually does. Instead, it sounded like crying, this above all the other things sent his body into fight or flight mode.

And in this case, his body was screaming with every nerve in his body that this was a time for flight. And so on and on this cycle continued until that damned sound of the whip caused him to jerk towards the caretaker. His face turned light brown as her face had not changed, the boy only saw hell in her eyes. And with a cruel calm and prickly voice, she croaked.

“Di Angelo, what...was that? What was that my child?” Her voice with each sentence began to raise and raise. Getting louder the more she talked, “What, went through, that head of yours which made you decide to break, that POOR BOYS NOSE!” She roared causing Thomas to flinch.

“Do you have any explanations? Do you have any adequate reason for putting your hands on another child?!” she yelled. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself boy? Speak. Now! Or so help me you will wish you did!” with that last worked the whip cracked once more making Thomas jump in fear, but as he heard her words, anger once more burnt in the boy's chest. So he glared incredulously.

“He hit me first! he talked about my parents! he destroyed my book. he told me they were garbage and deserved to be in the ground! What was I supposed to do let him hit me?! Let him insult me and my parents?! No, he deserved everything I gave him!” the child spat with venom and anger in his voice he was mad at the bully, he was mad at her, he was mad at his life.

“Your parents? Hmph, if I were you I’d stop holding them in such high esteem. They left their only child on my doorstep, in the cold rain mind you!" she huffed, taking an aggravated pace. "They were probably deadbeats and drunkards who didn't even want a child, or couldn’t find anyone to buy you! So they left you here, like as your victim stated. Like... trash” Those cruel cold words struck Thomas harder than anything else in his life.

He felt tears begin to well up in his eyes once more, filling him with sadness and an unbridled fury as the boy once again swung his fists, only for it to be caught in an iron grip as they were pulled high in the air, his shoulders roaring in pain as it nearly went out of socket. The aging woman stared into him, eye to eye, her face curling in a mix of anger cruelty, and sadistic pleasure as she said these final words.

“So...you want to fight hmm? You want to strike me hmm? Well, then allow me to oblige.”

Her smile curled and stretched to the sides of her face as she looked pure evil. The caretaker grasped Thomas on his wrists throwing him onto the wall, as a sharp tearing sound filled his ears while a chilling cold air touched his back. This filled him with a fear so intense he begged or her to stop. He begged for her to not do it he screamed and pleaded but all of those cries for mercy did nothing as all that was heard was chilling crack, over and over again as Thomas cried blood-curdling screams of agony and pain that was swept up within the booming thunder He felt like the flames of hill seared into him, as jagged sharp rocks dug into the newly exposed skin. And so it went crack after crack.

Cry after cry, every scream, every sob, every piece of sound from that room echoed around the orphanage causing each of the kids to look in fear, covering their ears, trying to shut out the noise as much as they could. And so on this torture went for ten whole minutes with no relief as Thomas' eyes were creating pools of tears as his throat felt like a cheese grater went through it. It was bare and broken as he could barely make a sound as he curled into a shuttering ball as he was surrounded by his own tears and blood, now scared for his life, both in and out. And there stood the caretaker, with the same sickening kind smile from earlier looked into the boy's eyes.

“Now then my angel, clean yourself up and go off to bed. Oh! And I hope this has taught you a valuable lesson. Sweet dreams my dear!’ She cooed with false care. At her voice Thomas shuddered in pain and anger as he stared at where she walked off from the room as with the last of his voice he promised with all that he was that he would make her pay for this and that no matter what he would prove her wrong.

Prologue, ch.2