Bleeding Angel

 Ben took a step back and leaned against a concession stand to survey what he had done tonight. It was almost sunrise and early morning light fell through the theme park’s rides. Dead bodies and wreckage covered the ground. Everything was silent. Figures, since everyone was dead, killed by Ben.

 He hadn’t meant to.

 Ben walked around the park. He walked slowly, fearing what he would find at his destination. The Ferris wheel came into sight. As he walked he remembered what had happened last night.

 He was with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, Stella Myke. Her long black hair fell around her face, making it seem as if she was always smiling. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue. They sparkled more than the lights of the park and the stars put together.

Currently, they were waiting in line for the Ferris wheel, holding large tufts of blue and pink cotton candy. They were talking and laughing, and Ben was fingering something in his pocket. A small, blue, case.

He was going to propose, on top of the Ferris wheel.

They reached the front of the line. They would be the last to get on for the night. They were about to get in.

Ben stopped at the usual beginning of the line for the Ferris wheel. Something had happened. Something had stopped him from getting on. He thought grimly, not sure if he wanted to remember. But, the memory came back to him, in all of its horror.

A man grabbed Ben’s shoulder, shoving him out of the gondola. He smelled strongly of alcohol, and stumbled.

“Excuse me. We were in line next,” Ben said.

“Yeah, well, find some other ride,” the man said. He smiled, daring Aide to mess with him.

Ben took in a deep breath. “Please get out. It’s our turn,” he said slowly. He had to keep from becoming angry.

“Make me.” The man smiled again, this time showing his rotting teeth. The ride supervisor was talking on his walkie-talkie, calling security.

Ben leaned in close. “You see, I’m going to pop the question tonight. And this is her favorite ride, so please, move out of my way,” he whispered.

“Oh! Well, she’s a real looker!” he shouted, looking over to Stella, and proceeded to say some very rude things.

Stella blushed. “C’mon Ben, let’s just go home,” she said. “I don’t really have to go on.”

Ben didn’t seem to hear. He got onto the gondola and grabbed the man’s collar. “Listen. I can, and will make you move if you don’t do it yourself now.”

“Ben, really it’s fine. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, listen to your sweetheart.”

Ben stood there for a moment, and then dropped the man. He turned on his heel and took only two steps before he heard screaming. He turned back around. Park officials had appeared on the other side of the Ferris wheel.

They had their hands up.

The drunken man had a gun, and was holding it at the officials. He motioned for them to move towards the rest of the group. They complied slowly.

The men whipped out guns of their own and held it at the man. They obviously hadn’t wanted to aim at the man with so many people behind him. But now there was nobody behind him.

The man’s eyes darted wildly around, looking for a way out of the mess he was in. His eyes rested on Stella.

His hand darted out, grabbing her and pulling her back in, pointing the gun against her temple.

“Stella!” Ben yelled. He reached for her. The man squeezed her arm harder. She screamed.

“Don’t move pretty boy, or else her next ride will be to the morgue.” Ben stopped. He glared at the man.

“You don’t want to do that,” Ben said. He could feel himself slipping, the thing inside of him taking over.

Darkness began to cloud his vision.

The man cocked the gun and pulled the trigger, and then Ben had blacked out.

And the monster had taken over.

Ben was at the end of the line, right beneath the large Ferris wheel. He dropped to his knees, in front of the one thing he wished he would never see.

Stella lay on the ground, blood staining her chest and the ground around her. Three large scratch marks lined her cheek. Her eyes were glazed over. She had been dead for hours.

“Are you happy now?” he whispered silently. He looked up towards the pale blue sky. “Are you happy now?” he shouted. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to the monster, to the drunken man’s corpse in the gondola, or to himself.

He leaned down and took Stella into his arms. “I should never have loved you.” he whispered. Tears flowed down his cheeks. “I should never have talked to you. I should have let you live,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There was silence, deadly and cruel, that mocked his sobs as the deadly sun rose in the east.

"I'm sorry, angel."