You make me shiver

They say in life there are two kinds of people.

They say there are good people and bad people, say bad things happen for a reason and everything out there is a consequence of the kind of person you choose to be.

There are three kinds of people: there are good people, bad people and people that aren’t people. And it’s funny, knowing there are three types of people; it’s funny when you feel you know more than anyone else in the world, funny how you can tell in a crowded place which kind of person they are just by looking into their eyes. And it shouldn’t delight you knowing every single story as much as it does, but you don’t care because, well, you don’t really care about anything.

Truth is, there are a lot more “non-people” than you know. They surround you just as any other living person does and you don’t even notice. How could you? You don’t know there are three kinds of people; they’ve always taught you good people are gentle and caring people while bad people can be rough and rude. You’ve never heard about those people who apparently aren’t people at all, well, in fact you’ve had but you can’t remember. They always give you the opportunity to be bad or good, but what happens to all those people that don’t choose –can’t choose- to be bad or good? What about those people who are destined to be the third kind of person? No one has taught them how to be them; they’re too innocent, too lost to keep going. They know nothing about the world, they feel confused and they can never be good enough. They are rejects.

And you might be wondering why me, a good person, knows almost everything about a kind of person that no one has noticed before.

Easy.

Because I fell in love with one.

And you will never notice when you fall for someone, will never know how hard and fast you've fallen until you feel you've touched the bottom of a never ending waterfall. It will start with sneaky touches, the need to touch that someone constantly and feel their warm breath against your cheek will become something essential in your life and then, suddenly, it ends. (It doesn’t, it never does)

I was freezing by the time I arrived in the forest. It was starting to darken out, and the shadows formed by the enormous trees were giving me the creeps. I was walking down a thin path that seemed to come to a stop where the fading lights of the city didn’t get to shine. The more steps I took, the more scared I was, it was completely dark except for the light of the full moon and a weak gleam coming from between the trees. My mobile phone was dying and the only thing illuminating my eyes was weak gleam coming from the deep of the forest; it seemed it was an abandoned house. I couldn’t tell.

I was starting to calm down, my eyes used to the darkness and the city behind my back soon forgotten, when something got my eyes pricking with fresh tears.

A shriek was heard.

Shit

“Boys it’s not funny, I’m scared stiff over here!” I screamed trying to give myself reassurance. The high pitched squeak was heard again, this time closer. My desire of cursing was getting higher by the time. “Stop it!”

There was a dead silence, and then something started shuffling behind the leaves. I closed my eyes hard, prying for this to be a bad dream, when a loud thump brought me back to reality. I shouted at the top of my lungs, and then bit my lip so hard I could feel the blood dripping down my chin. I started crying, hugging my knees to my chest and trying to hide in the wet grass even though all I was doing was getting dirty. I couldn’t care less.

I heard some steps that I was sure weren’t made by my boots; they were getting closer while my mouth was opening and my lungs were getting filled with oxygen, ready to scream. Then, I felt a soft hand harassing my tear-stained cheek, and fluttering my eyelashes I opened my bloodshot eyes in fear.

Standing in front of me there was the most breath-taking boy I’d ever seen. His eyes were spooky red but there was something that made me feel secure, I knew deep in there his eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue that could exist, and his plump lips where bruised and dry while his eyebrows were frowned in the cutest way possible. He had gorgeous brunette hair in a fringe falling wildly in every direction that contrasted with his porcelain cheeks. He was covered in dirt and his shirt was ripped open, showing more purple bruises and cuts, and his arms and wrists were full of cuts (Some of them fresh and other almost fading)

“Are you okay?” He asked concerned, catching all my tears with his thumbs “I’m not going to hurt you, promise”

Instead of answering, I pulled his wrist to my lips and kissed gently all the scars I could see on his arm. “Don’t do that again, yeah?” I whispered softly, afraid of breaking the broken boy. He looked so fragile, so innocent and his eyes were wide and so lost. He was so tiny and I got the need to rock him in my arms and kiss him to sleep. I wasn’t scared anymore, I wasn’t a coward.

My black wings came out and they started glowing.

And in that moment, everything got back into pieces.

A fallen angel fell in love with the broken boy.

“Yeah”