Arms of an Angel

By: Kasey

He surveyed the room before him, anger and frustration evident in his eyes, his stance, his whole demeanour. The room, once at least relatively clean, was now a complete mess. He had needed to vent his anger, and the only way he had known how to do that, was to destroy everything that reminded him of better times. Nothing had been spared, nothing had escaped his notice as he had gone from room to room, searching for anything that would be a reminder, so he could destroy it. Broken shards of china, ripped clothes, shattered glass were scattered over the carpet of every room, but this room, the room that had held the most memories, the most reminders had been wiped clear of anything and everything that was hers. In the end, it hadn't worked. His anger, his frustration still evident, his pain still fresh. He wondered how long it would take for the hurt to fade away, for the anger at the unfairness of it all to disappear, for him to be able to accept the fact that...

He shook his head. Standing here wasn't going to help him. Nothing was going to help him. He needed some relief, something to help him forget what had happened. He needed to get the hell out of here. He grabbed a jacket and his wallet, not bothering to lock the door behind him. This was no longer a house worth protecting. There was nothing left to protect here anymore, nothing worth wanting to take care of. He shrugged into the jacket as he walked along the sidewalk, not noticing the stares he was getting, the sympathy, the pity. He didn't hear the whispers, as people discussed what had happened, how it had happened, and, as he himself questioned why it had happened, so did the people around him. They watched him walk by, head bowed, obviously deep in thought, and murmured questions that would never be answered. They spoke of the unfairness for him, why such a thing had to happen to such a good man, when all he had ever wanted was to be part of a family, to be happy...for this to happen to someone who didn't deserve it, for him to suffer the way he must be suffering...they clutched their children and loved ones, thanking whoever was in charge that they were loved, and all the while feeling the sorrow, the loss, the pain, maybe not as sharply as he was, but still in mourning.

The wind was cold, biting but he didn't notice. He was lost in thought...the memories of a day just like this embedded deeply in his mind, bringing a smile to his lips as he remembered...

*****

He opened the front door, smiling when he heard the muted sounds of Christmas carols on the stereo. There were only two weeks left until Christmas, and he had just come home from Christmas shopping, where he had picked out something he knew she would love.

" Kristin?" he called, knowing that he wouldn't have to wait long before she appeared. But she didn't come to him, like she usually did, and his smile turned to a frown. He wandered into the den, where the music was coming from, to find her sitting on the window seat, her legs drawn up to her chest as she stared out the window at the snow falling softly to the ground," Kristin? Hun, what's wrong?" His heart fell to his knees when she looked at him, her clear blue eyes full of tears.

" Oh Jordan..." she whispered.

" Kristin, why are you crying?"

" I...you know how I haven't been feeling so great lately, and I thought it was the flu?" she asked and he nodded. She had been constantly sick, dehydrated...and it had worried him," Well, I went to the doctor today."

" And?" he asked, scared that there was something seriously wrong. When she pulled out a white object, he became even more worried. She handed it to him, and he stared down at the object he held in his hands," What's this?" He raised his eyes to meet hers again, and she was biting her lip nervously, her eyes worried.

" I'm pregnant," she whispered and he stared at her, stunned.

" We're having a baby?" he asked, his voice gruff and emotional. She nodded, worrying her bottom lip, causing his heart to swell with love. God, he loved this woman. Nothing else could compare to the feelings and emotions he had whenever he was with her. Waking up every morning with her in his arms, falling to sleep every night, spending every waking moment thinking about her...and now, she was having his baby. His life couldn't get much more perfect than this.

" The baby is due in July. Is this..." her soft question was cut off by his kiss. His lips slid gently over hers, capturing every essence that was all Kristin.

" This is wonderful news. Nothing would make me happier, except..." he trailed off, causing her eyes to darken with worry again. He searched through his shopping bags, until he found the jeweler's bag. Pulling out the tiny red velvet case, he heard her small gasp and smiled, flicking the top of it open, revealing a clear solitaire diamond," Marry me Kristin. Marry me and we can be together, always."

" Of course I will Jordan. I love you," she said as he slid the ring onto her finger. He kissed her gently, whispering

" I love you" before making love to her, thoroughly and lovingly, making memories that would last them a lifetime...

*****

Except there was going to be no lifetime, no together always. Everything they had planned, everything that they had discussed lying in bed together late into the night, their plans, their dreams for their daughter - they had found out at the seven month mark they were having a daughter - were all lost.

He reached a hotel in an out of the way part of the city and decided to stay overnight here. It wasn't a first class hotel, in fact it was down right lousy, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was to forget, to drink himself into oblivion and forget he had ever had a hope, ever had a dream, ever wanted happiness...he wanted to forget that he had an angel, and she had slipped through his fingers.

*****

" Do you have any rooms available?" the clerk looked up to see who was speaking to him. Although he managed to hold in his verbal shock at the mans appearance, the look on his face spoke volumes, and the man laughed bitterly," I need a room, not pity." The gruff, demanding tone made the clerk hurry through his motions.

" We have one room left, it's not the best but..."

" I don't want five star accommodation! I just want a room with a goddamn bed! Do you have a room with a bed or not?" the man asked angrily and the clerk flinched, speeding up his motions as he flicked through the registry book. He found the page he was looking for, sighing inwardly with relief.

" We have a room. Is there anything else you'll be needing?" the clerk asked, watching as the man signed his name and threw some money down onto the counter.

" Is the bar still open?" he asked, counting the money he had left in his wallet. The clerk raised his eyebrows, but at the scathing look he was delivered, he shifted nervously and hid his reaction.

" No sir, but I can send you up a drink, if you like," he said.

" I want a bottle of whiskey," he said. The clerk managed not to react. A whole bottle?" Yes, a whole damn bottle." The clerk realized he had spoken out loud and shivered. He would hate to be on the receiving end of anymore of this mans anger.

" I'll send that up shortly sir," he said and the man nodded. He started to walk away, stopping just before he reached the elevators. He looked back at the clerk and he readied himself for another bout of anger or sarcasm.

" Make it two bottles," and with that, the man stepped inside the elevator and disappeared from site. The bellboy headed over to the clerk, an almost frightened look on his face.

" What's wrong with him?"

" Jimmy, I don't know. But he looks like he's living in his own private hell," the clerk said softly, not realizing just how correct he was.

*****

He entered the room, staring around in disgust. Okay, so it wasn't the Hilton. He didn't want the Hilton. All he wanted was a room, with a bed. And an escape from reality, if only for another night. He would deal with tomorrow when it came, but for now, he needed that escape, the whiskey that would numb his senses, help his sleep be dreamless, and to help his night not last as though it were forever. So where the hell was the whiskey he had ordered? He should have waited around for it. The clerk would probably be too afraid to come and give it to him. If the whiskey wasn't here in five minutes, he'd go back down and get it himself. He needed a drink, and damn fast.

He took off his jacket and threw it over the back of one of the scarred chairs in the room, then sat down on the bed, staring down at the worn carpet, hearing nothing but her soft laughter, her voice, the way she would tease him to get a reaction from him when he was a little mad. She had been so kind, so loving, such a beautiful person inside and out, that he couldn't help but love her so fully. She had made him feel things, he had never dreamed of feeling, emotions he had never dreamed of experiencing. He had never been happier, than when he was with her, never been more secure in love than with her.

" Mr. Smith?" his head snapped up at the sound of the clerk's voice using the alias he had scribbled into the hotel registry. He got up off the bed and opened the door sharply. The clerk stood there nervously, holding one bottle of whiskey, and another bottle of something else.

" That mine?" he asked, nodding towards the two bottles.

" Yes sir. We only had one bottle of whiskey left, so I brought up a bottle of scotch. If that's not okay, I can send someone to the nearest store and get you a bottle of..."

" It doesn't matter. Here, keep the change," he threw a few bills at the stunned clerk and took the two bottles out of his hands.

" But sir..."

" I don't want to be bothered again, you understand?" he said and the clerk nodded, his adams apple bobbing up and down in his throat. As he shut the door, the clerk scurried away down the hallway, too frightened to even think of staying any longer. He smiled grimly, and shut and locked the door, making sure that no one would be interrupting him at all during the night. He sat back down on the bed and opened the bottle of scotch first. He took out his wallet and flipped it open, removing a photo from the plastic cases before placing the leather wallet onto the bedside table. He made himself comfortable on the bed, resting up against the headboard, tipping the bottle to his lips and swallowing, all the while looking at the last photo he had taken of Kristin and his daughter, only two days before they had died...

*****

" She's sleeping?" he asked, coming up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and bringing her body closer to his. She sighed, and relaxed more fully against him, smiling as she did so.

" Sound asleep. Playing with her daddy really made her sleepy," Kristin said softly and he laughed.

" We didn't really play, it was more 'lets just make baby noises for daddy and see how he would react'," he said and Kristin laughed.

" Well daddy, how do you like being a father?"

" I love it, and I love Hope, and I love you for giving me Hope," he told her, turning her around so she was facing him.

" Are you really happy Jordan?" Kristin asked anxiously and he nodded.

" I've never been happier," he reassured her, leaning down to kiss her softly.

" I'm glad. I never imagined that I could be this happy, being a wife and mother, I thought that I needed to prove myself in other ways, that I wouldn't be worthy until my life was full of meaningless parties and business meetings. But being married to you, being Hopes mother, it’s a pure form of happiness, something I never want to give up," Kristin told him.

" You never have to prove anything to me sweetheart. You and Hope, you will both be all that I need to be happy. Now that Hope is asleep, what do you say that we go and celebrate her birth a little more?" he asked, running his hand along her cheek, his thumb coming to rest on her bottom lip.

" I say I'm all up for it," she whispered. They were heading for their bedroom, when Hopes cry filtered out of the nursery. Kristin threw him a regretful smile," Let me go and see what she needs. I'll be right back okay hun?"

" I'll wait for you," he said and watched her enter Hopes nursery. She was even more beautiful now that she had given birth to Hope. He went into their bedroom, and got the camera out of the wardrobe. He wanted to capture another moment between his wife and daughter, so he walked quietly to the nursery, opening to the door to find Hope in Kristin's arms, as she slowly rocked her, and sang to her. He readied the camera, then called out to Kristin," Kris, honey, look at me." She looked up, a sweet smile on her face and turned to face him, just as he took the photo of her.

*****

He swallowed the mouthful of scotch, bitter that he had lost everything only two days later. Six months had passed since Kristin and Hopes death, and during those six months, he had done nothing but drink. He vaguely wondered if he was drinking himself to death, in the hopes of being with his family, but the real reason he drank so much, was to forget the pain, to forget the site of those two policemen showing up on his doorstep only two days later, telling him his wife and child were dead, because of a man who had decided to start drinking at eight am in the morning. Two hours later, he had decided to drive home. And Kristin, and Hope, had been unfortunate enough to be in a car, on their way home from a doctor's check up. The drunk driver had run Kristin off the road, her car exploding immediately. His daughter had never had a chance to grow up, to do so much with her life, to experience falling in love, getting married, having children of her own...and his wife, his beautiful and loving wife had never had the chance to live to watch her daughter grow, to be with him when they were old and gray. And he would never get the chance to see any of this, never get to say another word to Kristin, never kiss her again, never hold his child in his arms again, all because one man decided to risk his life, and the lives of others by driving home drunk. He could remember thinking, when the police had told him of the accident, at the funerals, and even now, that if the driver had've lived, he would have beaten the living hell out of him, despite the risk of being in jail. The driver had been killed when his car had flipped, throwing him a distance from the vehicle...but is death was easy and simple and painless compared to the way his wife and child had died. After the funerals, he had started having the nightmares, Kristin calling out to him as the car burnt up around her, and he was unable to get to her, or to Hope, and then there would be complete silence as the fire was put out, and the bodies were pulled out of the car, nothing left to identify them but...

He jerked his eyes open and realized he had fallen asleep, not deeply, but enough for him to see the images before his eyes again. He swore viciously and moved off the bed, over to the window, the bottle still in his hand. He tipped it to his lips again, realising that it was empty, so he threw it to one side and opened the other bottle. He'd have one hell of a headache in the morning, that was for sure, but for now, he needed the comfort only alcohol could give him.

*****

It should never have happened. He should never have had to go through this, never should have buried his infant daughter or his wife. He shouldn't have to be here, in this hotel room, a million miles away from anyone and everyone he loved. It was all so unfair, losing his family the way he had, but he couldn't go back to the past and stop Kristin from driving that day, couldn't stop the other driver from drinking and then getting into a car. Even though he wished that he had been driving that day, that he had gone with Kristin instead of staying at home. Maybe he could have done something, and even if he couldn't, then at least he would have died with them, and it would have saved all this pain, and the heartache.

He moved from his position at the window and moved into the bathroom, to look at his reflection in the mirror. He knew he had lost weight since the accident, knew that the amount of drinking he was doing was turning his skin sallow, that he hadn't slept and he looked worse than he ever thought he would look, but he didn't know just now bad he did look. No wonder the clerk had reacted the way he had, he thought wryly. The man who was staring back at him in the mirror was not the same one from before the accident. He looked like walking death, frightening even himself with his appearance. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, the bottle on the floor beside him, as he placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He didn't want to go on, didn't want to live a life with this pain, this despair. He wanted the pain to end now. He was looking at a future full of loneliness, where nothing was worth living for. He raised his head, scanning the bathroom, his gaze resting on a razor that was sitting on the sink, obviously having been left by someone else. Did he dare? It would be so easy to end it now, by taking the blade to his wrists, but did he dare take his own life? Would anyone understand why? Would his mother be able to forgive him for taking the easy way out? Would anyone forgive him? He got to his feet and picked up the razor, staring at the blade, wondering if it was sharp enough. He ran his finger over the blade, crying out softly at the sharp sting and watched as his finger bled, watching it drip into the sink, the dark red of his blood staining the off white bowl. He didn't know how long he stood there, time was irrelevant, but when he finally realized that the blood flow was easing, he knew his decision had been made. Turning on the faucet, he watched as the water washed away his blood, then turned it off. Catching one more glance of himself in the mirror, he stared grimly at the man before him, knowing that this would be the last time he would ever look at himself, ever hurt this bad, ever feel this much pain. He turned around and picked up the bottle, walking back into the room, making sure all the lights were turned off, the only illumination being from the streetlights outside. He sat down on the bed, staring at his hands, at his wrists, the blade resting smoothly on his palm as he took another drink, and then another, before placing the bottle on the bedside table and pressing the blade against his flesh, sucking in his breath softly as the sharp point cut into his skin, causing a trickle of blood to escape and run down and around his arm, mingling with the hair on his arm. He pressed harder, until the blade was embedded deeply into his skin, blood all but gushing from the wound, but he was beyond caring at the moment.

He felt the first cut, but after that, he went blessedly numb. As the blade cut deeper into his skin, he closed his eyes and breathed slowly, deeply. It would all be over soon. The pain, the endless nights, the heartache, the fear of a future without her...it would all end, and he would be in peace, able to forget the events of the past year. He'd be able to sleep, to smile, to laugh...he'd be with her again, and that’s all that mattered. He didn't want to be alive if she wasn't here, didn't want to make memories with anyone else. He'd made his memories with Kristin, and now that she was gone, now that his daughter was also gone, there was no one else on this earth he could ever imagine loving again. This was the best way to end it all, to ease his pain, to help him be with his family. The blade dropped from his hand, and he laid back on the bed, resting his arms next to his side, feeling the warm flow of the blood as it soaked into his clothes. He hoped that everyone would forgive him, that his family and friends would realize that he just wasn't able to live any longer without Kristin. His head started to feel light, his whole body started to go numb, as his breathing started to get shallower and shallower, his heart realizing what was happening, and as hard as it worked, it was no use, for the cuts were too deep and fatal. He opened his eyes one last time, to see a bright light above him, and her smiling face. Then she was there, standing beside him, her arms out in front of her body, her palms up, as she beckoned to him. He could hear her soft melodious voice calling to him, whispering his name over and over again, so full of love, so full of joy and compassion and it comforted him, as he realized what was happening. He was dying, and as much as the thought of death had used to frighten him, it no longer did that. It would be a blessed relief from what he was living like now. He felt his spirit rise from his body, and stand there, not sure whether or not he should approach her, when she started walking towards him, her eyes shining bright with comfort and love, her long white robes so pure, so innocent. Then he saw she was holding a baby, his baby, his beautiful daughter who had died with her mother. She handed the baby to him, he took her in gentle arms and looked down at his child. Her eyes opened to reveal fathomless brown eyes, so like his own, and he fell to his knees with love for this child, for her mother. He looked up when he felt her arms go around his shoulders, and she helped him to his feet, smiling at him as she did so, that comforting smile of hers she had used so many times when she had been alive.

" Come," she whispered, and he nodded, willing to follow her wherever she wanted to go. They started walking towards the light, and then he looked back, at his body on the bed. He knew that he should feel a sense of loss, a sense of panic, but just looking at his earthly body gave him such a sense of relief, a sense of closure. He felt some sadness, knowing that his friends and family would mourn for him, would cry for him, but he knew, deep down, that they would know he had had to do this, that he had had to join his own family, and he hoped that the people he had loved, the people who had loved him would be able to forgive him and move on, that they would be able to smile and laugh at the good memories," Jordan, its time." Her voice broke into his senses and he turned back to her, a smile on his face," Are you ready?"

" I've been ready for a long time Kristin," he said, and they walked forward together, to a life for eternity.

"in the arms of the angel...fly away from here...from this dark cold hotel room...and the endlessness that you fear...you are pulled from the wreckage...of your silent reverie...and in the arms of the angel...may you find some comfort here...you're in the arms of the angel...may you find some comfort here.."

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