My Blinding Angel

I didn’t know what she looked like, but I knew what her hands felt like; my blinding angel. I don’t know how I knew she was female, maybe it’s because of her soft hands and soothing voice. I didn't know many things about her, but I knew she didn't save me from myself. When I told Raphael the little I knew about her, he said angels had no gender, and so I didn’t tell him more about her. I remember the first time I met her; the night my father killed my mother. I was taking it all in; the shouts and slaps and just after the slaps turned to blows, I felt two soft palms come over my face, with the thumbs holding my eyelids close. Her soothing voice singing songs which drowned out the shouts which accompanied the pummeling of my mother. The police didn’t believe me when I said I saw and heard nothing. They didn’t believe me. Time after time my blinding angel was there, saving me from gory sights and sounds of life, but the day I jumped from the Golden Bridge into the icy water, she couldn’t save me from the sight of death staring at me and the sound of my thudding heart just before it stopped beating. My blinding angel couldn’t save me from myself.

This was inspired by the art and contest by @vermillionfox.
Image from original post.