Stop Her

She opened her eyes and saw that she was still in the garage. She sat up and looked around. It must not have worked. Tears filled her eyes and she put her head in her hands; utterly defeated. She was still on the 18-inch air mattress she bought online. She had done her hair and makeup before she laid her head down. She looked beautiful. Her green eyes allowed the tears to fall and she sobbed in silence looking around her garage. Why didn’t it work?

“You’re here,” he said from the corner behind her.

She froze. All the thoughts racing through her mind stopped as she turned to face the source of the voice and saw him standing there, leaning against the water heater. He wasn’t a hallucination. He was clear as day. It wasn’t the voice she'd heard off and on since childhood. That voice had a distinctive tone and almost always said the same few phrases, none of which were, “you’re here.” No. This was a normal voice coming from a normal man that was somehow standing in her garage right now.

She knew she had just tried to take her own life and failed. Her first instinct was self-preservation. If he was in her home in an official capacity, her number one priority was to avoid being committed. Run? No, never run. That admits guilt. She swung her legs over the side of the tall air mattress and faced him. She spoke to him directly.

“I should be here. I live here,” she began. “The question is; why are you here?” She felt the fire light up inside her and allowed it to flare in her eyes. She stared directly at his face and stood up. She could always count on that internal fire. At her highest and lowest points in life the fire was present, it didn’t matter if she was facing a boardroom of executives or a bout with calamity. When she decided to confront something … anything … She did it full on.

Their eyes were locked and he smiled at her. It was a handsome smile that gave his face depth and character, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was a smile of cynical amusement; as if he had known her long enough to know the extent of outcomes she was capable of and couldn’t wait to see how this one would play out.

“Relax. This isn’t Sun Market,” he said without releasing his gaze on her. He looked a bit like the Irish contractor she had met a few weeks ago and fancied. He had dark eyes and was smart as a whip. But that man had tattoos on his hands and smiled at her with a coy level of mutual respect. This man had no tattoos and his admiration of her could not be sourced. He had also just referenced an insignificant event that happened in her life ages ago. It was an event only a handful of people knew about. Unless he was, indeed, a cop. 

 “You’re here about that?” she asked. “You realize I called the Police on myself that night?”

He laughed out loud. The single laugh showed he must know her. It was the same punchline response she got when she told the story to others. A young couple had been fighting in front of a grocery store in a bad part of town. When it escalated to a point where the girl yelled, “help,” she had stepped in to protect the girl. She marched forward from her parking spot like a confused comic book character; prepared to bareknuckle the punk if she had to. The girl in distress grabbed her backpack and ran away. As it turned out, not only was the young girl shoplifting, but also her apparent boyfriend was a plain clothes security guard. The heroic intervention allowed the thief to get away.

“How about this grille?” The man asked, pointing to the stainless gas grille on the far side of the garage.  “You mean to tell me that after all this time … After all the things we’ve thrown at you … After all the times you’ve been beaten to hell. All we had to do was make you a steak in a closed garage to get you here?” He laughed again and shook his head in disbelief. He sighed loudly and continued to chuckle softly for a few minutes. 

“Who are you?” She asked. 

“I think you know who I am.” He said. “You made the deal and I’m here to collect. I’ll give you a moment to gather your thoughts, but then we’re leaving.” He sat on the edge of the water heater stand and folded his arms.

So, perhaps it did work. But, if she was dead, where was she? Heaven? Hell? Ballyworld? She had tried to make deals with so many throughout her strained life. In her darkest times, she had made silent pleas to the usual leaders of heaven and hell, a few Pagan Gods, some ancient figures of Egypt and India, and one Wiccan luck spell that ended in epic failure but was always good for a historical laugh when the subject of religion came up with her peers. In this case, she was quite sure she didn’t make an offering to the Immortal God of Water Heaters. Especially since this particular water heater had died on her six months ago. She had practically drowned herself whilst installing the new one due to a faulty shut off valve. There had to be a logical explanation for what was happening.

She assessed the room and began the usual trail of deduction. The grille was still lit. This meant that it had been less than 20 hours since she had started it up. She looked at the carbon monoxide detector. The display showed 1410 ppm and was fluctuating up and down as she watched it. If this number was accurate, she should be dead right now. Then again, so would the man in the corner. So, either the meter wasn’t working or she was dreaming. 

She walked over to the grille. All burners were lit. During the trial runs, it took the grille between 25 and 43 minutes to raise the carbon monoxide levels above 1200ppm and hold it steady. It only took ten minutes for the damn alarm to start going off on the meter, so she had bypassed the speaker on the circuit board months ago.  

She held the meter in her hand and walked to the door that attached the garage to her home. With one hand on the doorknob, she watched the meter as she turned the knob and pushed the door open. She looked up at the man and waited. He gave no indication of approval nor dispute. She looked into her beautiful kitchen from the garage. As the two areas began to equilibrate, the readout began to drop, indicating that the meter was functioning. She returned to the garage and let the door close behind her.

She sat on the air mattress holding the meter. The gas level slowly increased and she watched it exceed 1200, then 1300. She was officially not dead. She walked back to the gas grille and stood there staring at it. If she turned it off now, what would that mean? If she was somehow immune to dying from carbon monoxide poisoning, did that also mean she was immune to other symptoms? Was it odd that she didn’t want to turn off the grille because she didn’t want to get a headache? 

Irritated, she went into a low squat with her hand on the top of the propane tank, exhaling out loud as she did so. She heard the words “grand plié” sound off in her head, as it always did when she went into a low squat; It reminded her of ballet school during childhood. That meant she was still physically present and whatever was happening was, in fact, real. That was immensely irritating to her. She put her hand on the brass knob of the tank and turned it to the right. The three burners puffed off within a few seconds; One right after the other. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.

She looked at the man. He cocked his head to the side and gazed back at her. He held out his arm with his palm up, ready to take her hand. She slowly backed towards the kitchen door, not sure what to do. If this was the end, then it’s what she had hoped for; it meant the pain was over… But what side was he on? More pain was not an option.

“It’s time,” he said as he stood up. 

His arm remained extended and his eyes were sympathetic. She pressed the button on the wall next to the entranceway to the kitchen. The exterior garage door motor engaged and it slowly opened. Light flooded in. It was beautiful and blinding at the same time. Its warmth told her that everything would be okay. The light illuminated her face and glistened on her tears. She smiled through the tears and allowed herself to feel its warmth. She saw him walk towards her, ready to take her hand. 

As she looked towards the blinding light, unable to see anything beyond the open door, she again opened the interior door that led to her home. She saw the house that had been so dark in the past years. She saw the kitchen that she had entered alone at the close of every day. She had felt so alone in that house, but didn’t want to let it go. She had worked so hard to keep it afloat. She didn’t know what to do. 

The light felt so good on her face, but she didn’t know who this man was. She didn’t even know who she was anymore. He extended his hand again and she took it but she didn’t feel the magic she expected. It felt dark. It felt uncertain. It wasn’t right. He tightened his grip and took a step towards the beautiful light. She broke free from his hand and stepped back towards the darkness of her own life.

“It’s time,” he said, smiling at her again.

She pressed the button on the wall again and the garage door began to close. She watched him respond in anger. She recognized in his eyes that he couldn’t go through without her. She, herself, had earned passage to both the dark and the light, but he had not. In life, she had put herself aside to help others too many times to count.  Now, the only door to her own peace was literally closing and this man couldn’t go through without her hand. 

She watched the door continue to close. She faced the door to her home and accepted her fate. She prepared to walk back into the kitchen and spend an eternity with the blinds drawn. In silence. In pain. She walked towards the kitchen and he followed her.  The garage door continued to close and the light closed with it. She walked with him into her kitchen and he leaned against the wall on the far side.

She felt the house close in on her again as it had so many times before. The blinds were drawn and she felt the empty sadness in her heart. She felt it close in. She knew it would break her over and over again for eternity. As he turned to observe his new home, she smiled. It was a friendly smile that let the world know she wasn’t going to give up. She opened the kitchen door and went back into the garage. The door was still closing. The grille was still warm. She jumped over the garage sensor blindly. The door closed behind her. She knew he couldn’t get through without her hand.   She landed hard on her shoulder on the other side. She knew she didn’t fully deserve the light, but she was damn sure she didn’t deserve the dark. Whether her decisions in life were right or wrong, she never put herself first. She did this for decades, knowing full well that others wouldn’t offer her the same courtesy in return. She didn’t care; It wasn’t why she did it. 

This is the story of the first Angel anointed in more than 2000 years. 

She is the first Angel that protects both good and evil.