Content warning: sexual assault, language  

Lissi always knew her guardian angel was 'special'. At five years old, when books spoke of how guardian angels sang songs and played games with children, Mol -- the nickname she'd given to the little sullen cloud of darkness with a baleful glare -- only perched in the corner, silent and watchful. She was afraid if she interacted with him, he'd swallow her in his darkness. And yet the funny guardian angel, just visible out of the corners of her eye, never speaking, comforted her.

She was ten when her girl friends decided she wasn't 'cool' enough. "You make us look bad," was the verdict. They shunned her, stopping their chats when they saw her and turned their backs. Mol just stared at the crying Lissi from his spot above her wardrobe, not speaking. Curled beneath her blanket, Lissi blinked fat, hot tears. She refused to open the door to her parents. She couldn't face anybody after such humiliation. Drawing the sheets over her head, Lissi plunged herself into darkness, breathing in the stuffy, hot air and soaking her pillow with tears. She could die. There was no way back from this. She heard a snicker. Even her angel of darkness laughed at her.

All day, hushed whispers came from the girls who were formerly her friends, who threw judging looks her way. Lissi could barely concentrate through her art lesson. When the bell tolled, Lissi jumped at the chance to help Mrs. Morgan take extra art equipment back to the cupboard and sort out the paints, breathing a sigh of relief when the bell rang again fifteen minutes later and she returned with Mrs. Morgan.

Lissi froze at the door. Cacophony. The four girls who'd shunned her hopped on the spot, flapping their hands in hysteria. Shelly spun in horror, staring down at a gooey brown stain on the seat of her white jeans. The class erupted into giggles.

"Shelly pooped herself!"

"Poop butt! Poop butt!"

Humiliated and red-faced, Shelly caught Lissi's eyes, her features darkening with rage.

"It was Lissi!" She pointed a trembling finger. "She put the poop there!"

"No!"

"It was Lissi!" Ebony agreed. "She's jealous!"

Fear rippled up and down Lissi's back. She would have loved to paint chocolate on their chairs, but she would never dare.

"It couldn't be Lissi." Mrs. Morgan frowned. "She's been with me all break. It's mean to accuse an innocent person, girls."

"It was her!" they insisted, stamping their feet. Mrs. Morgan sent them to the bathroom to clean up and switching Lissi's seat to the other end of the classroom. They trudged back in resignation in crumpled PE trousers, a far cry from the glamorous clothes they loved.

Several weeks after the poop-butt incident, they followed Lissi off the school bus, whispering and nudging each other. Lissi knew they had something planned, but she was alone, outside of the protection of the teachers. She hitched her school bag higher and hurried along.

"Hey, Lousey!" It was their original idea. Lissi didn't have lice, but it didn't stop them yelling it. Lissi increased her pace, marching past tall apartment buildings.

Hands grabbed her shoulders and sharp little nails dug into her flesh. She yelped. They spun her around. Their hair matched again, today, with neat little crimped bits on either sides of their faces and purple eyeshadow.

"You think we won't get you back for that stupid trick in the classroom?" Shelly shoved her face into Lissi's. Lissi fought back the familiar prickle at the corners of her eyes. She wouldn't cry in front of them. Mol hovered in the background, disinterested.

"It wasn't me!"

"Liar!" Ebony grabbed Lissi by her long plait and yanked her head back. Lissi's neck cracked. She whimpered, eyes watering from the pain. How could she have thought they were her friends once? "Liar liar pants on fire!"

"Nobody messes with us." Jessie rummaged in her handbag and brought out a pair of scissors. Lissi's eyes widened. "Let's see Lousey turn into Baldy tomorrow!"

"No, please!" Tears sprang into her eyes. She tried to pull away, but they had her by the front of her pinafore dress and both arms. She could only watch as the scissors moved closer, snip-snip-snipping, the metal glinting in the afternoon sun. She squeezed her eye shut.

There was a whisper -- 'little ship'? 'Little shrimp'? -- followed by a sharp crash. Her eyes flew open. The girls screamed, leaping away. A shattered plant pot, its contents spilled, lay on the ground.

"What the hell?"

Another whizzed by, skimming past Shelly's back and exploded, throwing shards around her ankles. She screamed. All four of them were two arm spans away from Lissi now. There was a moment of shaken silence and they stared at each other, bewildered, and then up. On cue, a cluster of pots hurled themselves at the four girls, smashing around them and scattering pieces everywhere. They screamed and ran. Lissi stared at their disappearing backs, confused.

She was sure Mol's eyes glowed a bit brighter that night. She didn't ask him. Some things were better off unasked. The girls never bothered her again.

As Lissi grew older and more aware of Mol, little things just convinced her all the more he was not a conventional angel. He showed no reservation in dealing out punishment. Men in cars wolf-whistling at fourteen-year-old Lissi would suddenly have to stamp on the brakes to avoid a dustbin rolling out of nowhere. Pickpockets targeting Lissi swerved out of the way to avoid being smashed over the head with plant pots; Mol had a preference for heavy objects onto heads. She always found out seconds afterwards her unorthodox guardian angel had stepped in again. But he still never spoke.

Her first halloween party invitation came when she turned sixteen, hosted by Chloe, the most popular girl in the year, and the daughter of a multimillionaire. Lissi was surprised Chloe even knew her name. Her experience with Shelly's group during primary school was more than enough regarding popularity. She wanted nothing more than to keep her head down, finish secondary school, and go to university. A familiar wistfulness to be popular twinged. She was as awkward as teens came, with gangly limbs, no breasts to speak of, and no knowledge of popular culture -- and even Mol made his point with a sarcastic sigh behind her. But it was possibly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. For fun. After all, how much mischief could a group of sixteen year olds get up to?

Lissi began to have second thoughts after her mum dropped her off at the sprawling mansion. The party was under way, with thumping music pulsing through the ground and flashing lights in every window. Laughter and chatter floated through the summer air. Glamorous girls in revealing dresses -- a stark contrast to Lissi's frumpy white poncho with a ghost's grin and black jeans -- and guys in superhero costumes meandered in and out, drinks in their hands. The stomach-churning scent of cigarette smoke reached Lissi's nose.

She poured herself some juice and stood in the corner, sipping away, observing. Pretty girls swayed to modern music, hands in the air, eyes fluttering at the boys gyrating against them. Raucous teens screamed with laughter at their companions' words. Braver teens pinned their paramours against the wall, smooching away. Lissi's discomfort knotted itself firmly in her stomach. Figuring she'd at least find Chloe and thank her for the party before phoning her mum for an early pick-up, she poured herself another juice and squeezed her way round the house, seeking the tall, long-legged host. The house was huge. Busts and paintings lined every wall. Disco lights flashed in her eyes, making it difficult to see where she was going. One barely-visible leg sent her flying, her drink vanishing from her hand.

"Oops!" said a voice, catching her by the shoulders. Lissi righted herself, flushing to her roots.

"Sorry!" she squeaked.

"That's okay," said the voice. "You all right?"

She nodded, steam coming out of her ears. Mol snorted behind her. The guy handed the drink back, eyes twinkling with humour. He had floppy brown hair and a strong jaw, and stood a head taller than her. He reminded her of male models dominating magazine covers. He introduced himself. Karl. He was seventeen, from a local college, studying to be a mechanic, and Chloe's brother's friend. He seemed to find her awkwardness and lack of interest in popular culture entertaining, laughing when she admitted she didn't see the appeal of pop music or the heartthrobs on TV. He mocked the serious faces of the people depicted in each of the paintings along the corridor outside, leaving her in stitches. He even offered to refill her drink, not ridiculing her when she asked for orange juice, even adding ice into it.

Perhaps it was the giddiness of having a boy's attention for the first time or the energy of the party, but Lissi vaguely began to notice the fog in her head and the time taken for words to make sense to her. She giggled more and more, allowing him to drag her to the next room. The lights sparkled like stars against a dark ceiling. The background voices blurred into a distant hum. Her phone fell to the ground. She didn't even hear it make contact with the wooden floor.

The first thing she realised was they were alone, the second his fingers unfastening her jeans.

"Wait--" she slurred, pushing him away with jelly-like hands. His face buried in her neck. A cold chill ran down her back. "N-no..."

Her jeans hit the floor, followed by her poncho. She shivered in her t-shirt and knickers. His hands were all over her.

"Please... no--" Her words were cut off when he crashed his mouth onto hers. Their teeth banged together. She winced, a sickening sensation of hot and cold dousing her body. What would her parents say? What would her classmates say? She tried to push him away again, but her limbs barely obeyed her. They flopped, useless, against his body. He pressed her against the wall, shoving his tongue so deep down her throat she gagged.

Her eyes darted around the room in a panic. A bedroom. How did she not notice before? It was so dark. A pair of glowing yellow eyes stared at her from a corner. Mol! She did her best to call out to him. Help her. She tried to convey those messages with her eyes before Karl's face blocked out her view.

A loud thud made her jump. Swearing aloud, Karl staggered backwards, clutching his head with a groan. A heavy globe rolled away, a dark spatter on its surface. The window slid open on its own accord, curtains billowing. Lissi collapsed onto her hands and knees, gaping with wide eyes.

Almost like the ending to a bad cartoon villain, Karl overbalanced when his lower back hit the window ledge and he toppled out, bellowing in panic and crashing into a sea of panicked shouts below.

"Little shit," came the deepest, most disgusted voice Lissi had ever heard.

"You can... talk?" she whispered, the shock clearing her brain temporarily. Her clothes fluttered over her and she tugged them on with shaking hands. "Why didn't you help me... sooner?"

"I do what I can with your strength, Lissi," growled Mol. Those golden eyes flicked up and down at her with the tiniest air of concern. "When you need it desperate enough, I grow strong."

"So back then--"

"That was me."

"And--" Her mind flashed to the plant pot incident later that year.

"Yup. Those little bitches deserved it. Wish I could have hit better though -- you weren't strong enough for me."

"Shouldn't you be... I don't know. Teaching me to look after myself? Rise above the bullies?"

"What the fuck would that have achieved? The little shits had it coming."

Her eyes flicked to the window ledge.

"Is Karl okay?"

"Who the fuck cares?" Mol slid the phone across the floor to her. Lissi shrank away from his vehement tone. "Call your mum. We're getting out of here."

"We?"

Mol's glowing eyes had an almost amused look. "You didn't think I would leave you alone, did you?"

Word count: 1990 Written for HighFantasy's Angels and Demons contest