Angels. They were the one thing you always hoped existed. Only supernatural thing I mean. They were the white winged hero's who saved you, guardians of the misfortunate. They played harps and sat on fluffy clouds and cried when babies were born. Might as well get that image out of your head. Angels weren't cherub like at all. They were beasts, ready to rip flesh from the bone. they were described as gods warriors in the bible, humans had made them into the cutesy little things you imagined. Granted they were still ethereal. Too beautiful for words but underneath the shining skin and golden hair they were savages. I had been a dreamer as well. Someone who had hoped that when I was about to die a angel would swoop in and lift me out of the smouldering car crash. Yeah right. Would have been told to fight my way out of the wreckage. I did have one positive thing to say. They could fight.

"Miss Reynolds?"

I had been waiting for a while; the call hadn't interrupted me in anyway. I had no reason to be flustered and grab my bag. It were already in my hand, the woven band imprinted into my palm.

"That's me"

He smiled and nodded. "Follow me"

I did. His office was decorated in warm colours. Brown, reds and gold's. Colours that made you feel safe. That didn't work on me. I sat down on the overstuffed chair perching on the edge bag still in my hand.

"May I call you Rebecca?"

"That's fine"

He smiled again and nodded. He was establishing 'friendliness'. Trying to tell me he was safe to speak to.

"So Rebecca why are you here?"

"You know why im here. It says so in the folder on your desk. You know the folder with my name on it. Don't patronise me. I'm here because I have to be not because I want to be. So get on with your psychoanalysing so I can leave at the end of my hour"

He pursed his lips trying to hide the shock on his face. "Okay?"


He rested back, his legs crossing. I had never liked that. Men who crossed there legs. It seemed so weird. Women crossed there legs. Men just sat. To me it reminded me of someone trying to hold there pee in. I didn't like him already.

"Lets start again. Hello im Dr. Robert Metton. You can call me Robert. Pleased to meet you Rebecca"

I simply scowled. "You cant re-do a first introduction. Deluding yourself into thinking saying lets try again will erase that person's first impression is ridiculous. There is no do-over"

"And why do you think that?"

I sighed. "Please don't. I will walk out. You must have read that in your file. Let me tell you that file is a load of rubbish. It doesn't define me. It's what other people think define me. Every word in there is probably a lie. I was classified mentally unstable because I had a vivid imagination as a kid. And because of that I was stuck with you people. Over paid pompous 'doctors' who think talking to me an hour a week will help me with my 'disorder'"

"do you hate therapists because you've had one since you were four?"

I chuckled shaking my head at him. "You are seriously deluded do you know that?"

He leant forward his hands on his knees, eyes on mine. I didn't blink.

"Why are you holding onto you handbag so defiantly? Is it because of the protection you have in there?"

Bastard finally got one in. I saw the gleam of satisfaction on his face. Satisfaction from finally getting to me. My knuckles whitened on the bag. I looked down at the old leather satchel. He pulled out a sheet of paper from underneath his writing pad and handed it to me. I took it carefully already knowing what it was.

"When did you draw that?"

The picture had aged, now yellowing and torn on the edges. It had been folded to many times. Where the lines were the colour had faded. A picture perfect house complete with red door and swirling black chimney smoke.

"When did you draw it Rebecca?"

"Four. I was four years old" I answered softly still staring at the picture.

It never seemed to grow old for me. That black creature terrorising the rest of the neighbourhood except for my house. a shining ball of colour amidst a dark background.

"Can you tell me about it?"

I handed it back turning away from him, eyes focused on the black rain clouds.

"That's my house"

"And what's the black thing?"

"Them. The things I saw"

"And what are they doing?"

The question seemed to snap me back. I looked him in the eye as I answered.

"They're spreading over the town. Consuming everything in there wake"


I stood up slinging my bag over my body. I had enough for the day. And so had he. Robert turned and watched me go to the door.

"Because they're trying to get to me"

"Why are they trying to get you?"

I smiled at him opening the door. "Lets leave that for next time huh?"