15 Twisted 1 Broken Angel

In the midst of the satiny ocean of white fabric, my angel sat. Bent forward, hugging her legs in front like a fetus inside her mother's womb; her huge doe eyes glazed as she warily scanned the room. Staying there, with her long raven hair falling on her slender neck, framing her face – a stark contrast to her milky white skin, the huge tattoo of wings on her back spread wide, she looked so otherworldly, so innocent, and so ethereal made my heart swell with love.

I continued to watch within the shadows as my angel continued to look around her, noting the trembling of that fragile, naked body under the lustrous bedcovers.

"A…dam…" the angel called breathily, her voice reflecting the panic she was feeling and I knew I had to show myself soon. "A…dam…"

"I'm here," I called out as I stepped out of the darkness, my eyes boring on my angel's face, taking in each and every detail.

Mine.

The knowledge filled me with pride as I joined her on our marriage bed.

"Adam…" my angel called out, teary-eyed as she raised her hands, reaching for me.

As soon as I sat on the bed, she threw herself against my chest, murmuring my name over and over as she clung onto me like a little child. Gently, I wrapped her in my arms as I pulled her onto my lap and cradled her like a baby as she wept against my neck.

"Don't cry love, I'm here. I'm here…" I whispered softly against her ear and felt her shiver in my embrace as she snuggled closer.

For a year, we had spent each and every night like this. Ever since the accident, my angel couldn't bear to be apart from me – not even for a second.

"Adam…" she whimpered and I could feel her nails digging against my skin but I didn't care.

Pain was a symbol that this was real – that we were both here, together.

"Hush my love, I'm here, I'm here," I whispered over and over as I rocked the two of us.

As was obvious, my angel was a broken one. But I didn't care. Even if others were pushing me to file for a divorce, wondering why until now I still chose to remain married to Yesha, my wife who couldn't eat, sleep or do anything by herself – an invalid who wasn't sane enough to raise our son, I would remain true to my vows. After all, aside from my twisted love, I Adam was the one who took away her wings and destroyed her mind.

Closing my eyes, I remembered years ago when I first saw her.

I was known to be a ruthless and cold businessman back then. I was feared and held high among my circle and outside, not because of my features since I was noted to be a very good looking man. It was because of my skill to be very successful in every venture that I did and because of the fact that I was the heir to a vast business empire.

Nobody dared treat me less than that of a master or they'd pay the consequence. Men were weary of me, envied me. They never bothered competing for they knew the end results. I always had my way. Because of this, I had very few people who I could call friends.

As for women…

Women either hated me or claimed they loved me. Either way, I was never interested in them. I found them scheming, whiny and definitely eyed my money.

Oh, I was never the delusional type. Regardless of how I looked, it was still my money which made those piranhas flock around me. I, who was betrayed by their kind – by my own mother who married my father because of his assets, swore never to fall and marry anyone who wasn't as rich as me. If I married someone beneath me, I would forever be suspicious.

Of course, fate had always had its uncanny habit of fucking up. When I'd been so sure I was beyond the clutches of romance, my heart forever untouched, I had to meet her.

=======

Four Years Ago

"What the fuck were you thinking, inviting me to a place like this?" I asked annoyed as I sat on a stool next to my best friend, Matt.

"Why not? Are you too good to bother hanging out with your commoner best pal at a commoner's place?" my friend retorted which made me raise my brow at him and he laughed, the scar on his cheek turning reddish in his mirth.

Matt really had a weird sense of humor, but his words however calmed me a little. Sitting at a bar – a new one I reckoned as I scanned the place, I gave myself a little break and relaxed.

Among all the handful of people I could call friends, Matt was the only one who wasn't born rich. My best friend was the eldest among the two children of family restaurant owners. Blessed with a good brain, he was chosen to be one of the rare scholars in my high school.

My biased outlook on the other side of the fence, as I call the world outside the rich people circles, made me a little irritable towards those scholars and so Matt and I started on the wrong foot. The two of us were considered rivals on the academic side and only became friends when Matt's father died and their family went bankrupt.

The guy's perseverance and unusual stubbornness on refusing to accept monetary help from his friends earned him my respect. When Matt saved my life from the almost kidnapping years ago however, he earned my eternal gratitude and friendship.

"This is like a de déjà vu," I said as I glanced around again and Matt's smile turned wistful, probably remembering the same thing I did.

It was at a bar when he'd saved my life resulting to the deep wound on his face.

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"I haven't come to any place like this since that night. I feel like something big is gonna happen," I chuckled as I accepted a glass of cold beer.

"Nah, it's just your paranoia kicking in," he answered and then sighed. "This bar's mine," he continued, making me raise my brow again.

"What's an executive like you suddenly owning a bar for?" I asked.

Matt worked as one of the top executives at a company I had acquired secretly several months ago. I didn't tell Matt about it, though, because I knew my prideful friend might quit working once he knew.

"I resigned today," Matt said solemnly and I stood up.