Archangel : Survival.

Archangel : Chapter 01 : Survival :


Present time.


Huddled in a corner of her large sofa, Samantha was browsing through her e-mails. She had send out a few applications for her internship as psychologist and was now checking whether she had received some replies back. Not much luck so far. She was giving herself another month before she focused her search to the Stanford University area. For now, she had looked for an internship in New York, her home and the place where her family lived.


With a desperate sigh, she closed down her e-mail program and shut off her laptop. Placing it on the coffee table near her, she then grabbed the big old book that lay on it. Looking for her page marker she opened it and started reading again. This was the first time she came across a book that had such detailed and old information, she almost believed she was on to something.


Ever since she was raped, five years ago, she had been looking and searching for an explanation. It had even made her more determined to start studies to become a psychologist. Blood, sweat and tears, it had cost her, but she made it with a lot of help of her parents and having a lot of jobs on the side to pay for her books and classes. During this time, she had started a thorough search on the net, trying to find every little thing she could dig up about the man that had saved her.


All these years she only found information that just about anybody could have found. Only after yet another search of the old books in the library during the weekend did she find a small clue that led to the book that was now laying on her lap. So far everything she found would say that angels are myths, but in this book, they referred to them as archangels, angelic messengers. The book told they roamed the earth to save lost souls of the dead and they would give nurturing, understanding and compassion to tormented souls.


Looking up from the book in her lap, her eyes searched for the tiny glass casing on the sideboard. It contained a pure white feather, the only proof she had of the man that helped her so many years ago. She felt a connection to him but couldn't really tell what it was. When she woke up the morning after he was gone. Even after such a long time most of the events seemed like a blur to her.


She had just finished high school and spend the whole afternoon in The Village. In the evening, they went to one of the lesser famous nightclubs and had a lot of fun celebrating their graduation. Since the trip home would take the better part of the night, she had decided to crash with one of her friends and then head home the morning after.

With only her big purse draped over her shoulder, Samantha started her journey home. Knowing she had a few trains to catch, she hurried along, oblivious to her surroundings. Samantha didn't notice the two men following her. The steps to the train station were just in sight when suddenly she was jerked backwards.

"One word and you won't make it out of this alive," a dark voice said behind her. "My friend and me are gonna have a little bit of fun with you and you better not make a sound, because I promise you, you will regret it!" he threatened again.

Silenced by fear, Samantha tried looking around her, hoping someone was nearby watching her struggle. She felt arms going around her waist and tugging her tight to a rock solid body. Another set of hands grasped her upper arms, even more fear nestled inside of her when she realized it was two men that were now dragging her down a deserted alley.

She tried to shake them off but her hair got pulled back.

"Don't try and fight this, you bitch," one of her attackers snarled at her viciously before he slapped her now tear covered face.

"Please, don't do this, let me go, please?" she tried to plea.

"Are you fucking deaf or what, you stupid cunt. I said not a word," he snapped at her, his fist connecting to her jaw.

Samantha felt frightened and feared for her life now. They got further into the dark alley. The men made sure they were unnoticed and one of them started tugging at her clothes. She tried to put up a fight, but each time she tried, it resulted in another blow in her face or her abdomen.

Barely conscious she was bent over, and she felt one of them ripping of her panties and carelessly plunging in three fingers in her dry cavity. The other man in front of her was trying to pry open her mouth, his dirty cock dangling in front of her. Keeping her lips tightly shut, he slapped her cheeks. When that didn't give him the wanted result he started beating her face.

"Open up, bitch, don't let me tell you twice," the second man hissed at her.

She tried to turn her head away in a feeble attempt to avert what was coming, but the vile man didn't let that stop him. Yanking her head back with her hair, he landed several fierce blows to her face, breaking her nose and finally beating her unconscious.

Going limp, the man that was behind her, grabbed the waistband of her skirt and simply held her up by holding on to the fabric while he frantically kept pumping inside of her. The man in front of her still held her by her hair. Prying open her mouth. he slipped in his cock and started pushing it in as far as he could.

Grabbing the sides of her head he pushed into her throat and started fucking her mouth, ignoring the involuntary spasms of their victim that unconsciously was trying to get some precious air in her lungs.


Shaking nervously her eyes went back to the glass casing, she didn't remember much after she lost consciousness. The next thing she knew was that she was in her own bed and that a man was trying to calm her down. She didn't feel any pain and after waking up again, she found out she didn't sport any bruises or scarring from the horrendous attack. If it wasn't for the single white feather she found between her bed and bedside table she never would have believed he had been there.


Samantha only remembered parts of the things he said but she was certain he told her he was an archangel. The clear lack of bruises confirmed her the he was one of the good guys and it started her never ending interest and search into the supernatural and old myths. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more between them then just coincidence of him saving her. She wanted to find him again.


It took her the rest of the summer vacation to be able to overcome what had happened to her. Bit by bit she recovered mentally, yet some curiosity towards the human brain and why a person is driven to do certain things kept lingering. By the end of summer she decided to apply with Stanford University and become a psychologist. Right now, five years later, she was only one internship away from getting her final degree.


The move to the other side of the country had weighed heavily on her, being apart from all her friends and family. Samantha decided to apply for an internship in New York. At least she wasn't on the other side of the U.S.A. then and she would be able to visit more often.


Three months had passed so far and not a single positive reply. Two more weeks and then she had to relent and take on one of the internships near Stanford University, an option she'd rather not use. Letting out a heavy sigh, she noticed the time and decided to turn in for the night.


The memories had drained her of the last bit of energy she had left that day. Getting up she passed the cupboard and picked up the glass casing and took it with her. It was a habit she had developed not long after her ordeal. She always made sure she had the feather with her, like a good luck charm. Only after three years, she was able to leave it behind at her dorm, but when she was home, she still took it with her in every room she went. The casing was like a beacon to her, reassuring that all would be well.


Putting it gently on her night stand, she kicked off her flip flops and slipped in her bed. After some twisting and turning, sleep finally caught up with her.


As restless as she was falling to sleep, Samantha was more relaxed sleeping, unaware of the faint glow illuminating her bedroom. The feather kept doing what its owner had promised, or at least did its best. It had soothed her every night, easing her pain at first as she slept. After a while it sensed her torment was fading so now it just gently soothed her while she was sleeping.


Samantha never saw this and was always well rested. Still she felt an invisible connection. The few times she didn't bring the casing with her, she always had a nightmare and only after placing the feather on her nightstand did she sleep well. All these little things became second nature to her.


+++


Slowly she opened her eyes, squinting them tightly to shut out the bright sun that shone through her window. Stiffening a yawn, she stretched her arms and her back then kicked off the bedding and gracefully got out of bed. Next to her bed she did a short series of squats and push ups, a routine she developed over time and now did without even thinking about it.


After her exercises, she went to her bathroom to put on a pair of jogging shorts and a tight running top. Walking to her kitchen, to grab a bowl of cereal as breakfast, she picked up the encased feather and took it with her, placing it on the side table just outside the kitchen.


Back in the living room, she started up her laptop, hoping she might have a response, even though it was the weekend. The bowl of cereal safely tucked between her crossed legs, she tapped a few keys and waited for the e-mail program to open up and retrieve any possible correspondence.


Grabbing a few spoonfuls of her breakfast, she startled a bit at the sound of a ping from her laptop, a sign she had mail. Quickly, she shoved the bowl on the coffee table. Crossing her fingers on her one hand she opened up the single message she received. Her hope was rising when she saw it was from Kings County Hospital. Please let them have a spot for me she hoped.


A few agonizing seconds passed before the mail was completely loaded. Faster, dammit! That will be the first thing I'll save for, a new laptop so I can ditch this old piece of junk she thought. Quickly. scanning the mail on her tiny screen, her mouth fell open. Samantha shook her head then read it again. Jumping out of the couch she let out a victorious scream. She had gotten her internship, her lonely days at the flat would be over.


Looking around for her purse, she found it near the kitchen on the ground, rummaging through it she dug up her iPhone and speed dialed her mom. Tapping impatiently with her foot, she barely could contain her joy.


"Come on mom, pick up the phone already!" she said excited.


Then it dawned on her. In all her excitement she forgot the time difference. Shutting of the phone she made a mental not she had to call back later that day, hoping to catch her mom before she went out doing her weekly shopping. Her mom didn't believe in the modern things such as cell phones, laptops or even mp3-players, so she had to time her phone calls carefully.


Tossing the iPhone back in her purse, she decided to go for her morning run first. Scratching her head she tried to remember where she last took of her running shoes, as she was in a hurry last time she used them and had kicked them out and left them lying where they landed. Roaming the tiny living room she didn't spot them, moving to the hallway she was still unsuccessful. When she popped her head in the tiny cubicle that resembled her bathroom, she finally found her running shoes.


Back in her kitchen, she grabbed a a bottle of water from her fridge, grabbed the mp3-player on the kitchen table and left her flat. Luckily, she didn't live far from a park and she easily jogged to her destination. Once there she stretched her muscles even more before she started on her faster run. She'd selected a few songs to make the running a bit easier and quickly, she picked up on the beat of the music while she ran her ten laps in the park.


The sun shone brightly that morning and when she was done running, she felt little beads of sweat trickling down her forehead and the rest of her body. She sat down in the shade of one of the trees near the exit of the park and gulped greedily from her bottle of water.


A smile had planted itself on her face ever since she got the mail. They were offering her a full internship and accommodations, though the latter wasn't needed, she was planning to move back to the converted outhouse in her parents backyard. They only asked for a little help towards the water and electricity bill, which she thought was the least she could do. It would leave her with most of her pay check left to put in her savings account and pay of part of her student loan.


Pouring the last bit of water out next to her in the grass, she got up to go back home, tossing the empty bottle in the trash can at the exit. Jogging relaxed, she took a good look around her. It would be one of the last times she would see this since they wanted her to start her internship in two weeks time.


Later that day, she picked up her cell phone and dialed her mom's number, it only went over three times before a gentle voice spoke on the other end.


"Hello, this is Sheila," her mom said when she picked up the phone.


"Hi mom, it's me. Everything all right there?" she asked.


"Yes, dear, we're doing fine here. How are you doing? Any luck finding a position for your internship?"


"That's what I'm calling about mom. I GOT IT! I got the spot at Kings County," she excitedly told her mom. "I almost had given up on finding something close to home, but I got the confirmation mail this morning. I'm so happy now mom."


"But that is good news, indeed. When will you be starting here?" her mom asked.


"They want me there in two weeks time. I've already sorted transport for my belongings so I only have to take a minimum amount with me on the plane home, the rest will come by truck. They're coming in a week's time, so that gives me a few days to pack up here. I've already started sorting my stuff, I won't be bringing everything. I'm so happy mom, I'm coming home, finally," she told enthusiastically.


"Two weeks, I'll make sure that by then the flat in the back yard is aired out and tidied up," her mom said.


"You don't have to clean everything mom, I can do some when I arrive, I got about a week left before I have to start work," she countered.


"No no, it will be cleaned, then we can catch up the week you have left. Though I'm sure you'll have to sort some paperwork and other details," she stopped her daughter.


"Ok mom, if you insist, but you don't have to, once I'll move in there I'll have to keep it tidy anyways, it really isn't much trouble," she tried again.


"I said no, now listen to your mom, young lady. You just make sure you get here in one piece, just let me know the time you'll arrive at the airport so we can come and pick you up," she told Samantha.


"I'll do that, mom, that was the next point on my list, but I wanted to tell you first. I rang this morning but then realized the time difference. I still can't believe it, Kings County, mom, I got a spot in Kings County," she said unbelievably.


"You did well, dear, you'll see everything will be just fine," her mom spoke calmly. "But I hate to cut you short, my dear, but I have to hang up now, I got lunch to prepare and there are a few things on the stove I don't want burnt."


"It's ok mom, I'll talk to you soon when I'll give you the flight information. I'll try and call on Monday evening, I should have the details be then. I love you, mom and say hi to dad. Bye bye, mom," she ended her part of the conversation.


"That's sounds like a plan, I'll hear you on Monday. Goodbye, my dear," her mom said before hanging up.


The week that came went by quickly, Samantha spending most of her time boxing in her things, taking stuff to second hand shops, giving away small bits and pieces. When the small truck arrived to load the last of her belongings and set off on a journey across the country, she stepped back and looked around her flat. Two big suitcases and one small hand luggage was all there was left to take with her to the airport.


With a big sigh, she closed the door and went down to the waiting taxi, dropping off the keys with the landlord. Giving her a warm hug goodbye, then tiny man then lead her outside and helped with her suitcases.


She didn't have to spend that much time before she was able to board her plane back home. Knowing it was a long flight, she packed a few paperbacks in her hand luggage and her mp3-player with her favorite music. Halfway through the flight, sleep overtook her and it was the flight attendant's warnings to buckle up again that woke her, just before they were landing.


At the belt conveyor, she had to wait a while before she was able to grab her suitcases and make her way over to the exit. Barely able to set a foot outside, the tiny frame of her mother hung around her in a tight embrace. A few steps behind was her father, a tall, olive skinned handsome man, even for his age he still had women turning their heads when he passed, but he had only eyes for the little woman that now clung at their daughter's shoulders.


"Welcome home, you little rug rat," he said with a booming voice, arms spread wide open.


Gently entangling herself from her mom, Samantha almost literally threw herself in her father's arms.


"Oh daddy, I missed you so much, I'm so glad I'm back home," Samantha said in a tiny voice, a few tears trying to escape her eyes.


Turning around to her mom, she held out her hand.


"What do you think, we got time to go have some of that delicious ice-cream at Ben & Jerry's?" she asked her parents.


"I think we can squeeze in a visit, before heading home and getting you settled in, rug rat," her father answered. "Let's get moving then, the car is parked near the entrance."


Enjoying the rest of the afternoon Samantha was glad when they finally headed home, jet lag catching up with her and draining her of the last bit of stamina she had left. Her parents helped put her suitcases away, but they had barely left her alone when she went for her new bedroom and crashed on the bed, not even bothering taking off her clothes. Sleep quickly had the upper hand and she drifted off into a relaxed slumber.


***


Donning the white doctor's coat, she felt proud of herself. Making sure her ID was visible, her pens were tucked away and a notepad shoved in one of the pockets, she was ready for the day. After two weeks, she was getting used to the routine they used in the hospital.


The first week she had been sitting on most therapy sessions, getting a feel of the people she was going to work with. She always sat in the back of the room, following the conversations between the psychologist and his patients, noting down her own comments. After each appointment, she had to tell him how she'd handle that particular person.


She was picking up the body language pretty well, sometimes felt her superior could have pushed a bit further or should have done the opposite. Somehow she didn't feel hundred percent comfortable with this position he had put her in, he wanted her to be totally honest about how she thought the session should have gone. That uneasiness went away after a day or three when it was clear he took on board what she said and explained why at certain moments he didn't push forward, why he let the patient just talk or why he did most of the talking.


The second week he let her have some sessions on her own where he would sit in the back and let her lead the therapy. She was up-to-date with the patients files and most appointments happened without much trouble. Her supervisor was impressed and aware he had a true gem amongst his staff.


And here she was now, walking down the corridor towards the nurse's station to get a list of the people she'd be seeing today. Having a quick scan of the list told her there were no really hard cases on the list today, but it was the first day she would do the sessions unsupervised. That thought was a bit daunting but also a reassurance that her boss trusted her enough to let her have the sessions alone already.


A routine set in, each morning she was getting her list, she did notice a few new patience appearing. A few were more troublesome people, but she got on perfectly. At the end of each day, she gathered with the other doctors to discuss the progress, or lack thereof, of her patients. Afterwards, she handed a file to her supervisor detailing each session and had a quick run through the cases with him. She grew more confident with each week. Weeks turned into months and she got on well with her colleagues, even managed to make a few new friends.


One of her colleagues took a liking to her and he managed to coax her into going out with a few of the others once in a while. Even though the 'dates' were always in group, she started to trust him a little.


By the end of the year, her boss told her to stop by his office once she was done for the day. Curious as to what he wanted to talk to her about, she waited patiently for his secretary to buzz her in.


"Hi, Doctor Williamson, you asked me to stop by?" she asked when she entered his office.


"Hello, I did. Have a seat, then I'll explain," he answered politely, pointing to the chairs in front of his desk. Calmly. he gathered a file from one of the drawers in his desk and opened it in front of him.


"Let's cut to the chase here," Doctor Williamson started. "You're one of the most promising psychologists we had the privilege of having on our team in the last years. It's rare that I see someone so easily picking up the emotions of the patients and handle them accordingly and correctly. In light of this, I think we may have an out of house patient you may be interested in working with."


Closing the file in front of him he handed it over to Samantha.


"Take a quick look at his file. As you'll see, we had multiple doctors visiting him, but he hasn't opened up to any of them. Said not much more as a simple hi and bye," he explained further. "He's proving to be a hard case and all of us here are at the end of our possibilities."


Scanning the pages Samantha read he had been convicted of causing bodily harm on different occasions, didn't resist arrest, never denied nor acknowledged his guilt. He had been given medication at one point but that decision had been revoked since it didn't seem to make any difference. The case intrigued her right away and she already knew her answer to the unasked question.


"If you decided to take him on, you'll be going over there every day-"


"I'll take the case," she interrupted him.


"Well, you'll be going there every day, so I suggest to plan him as a first or last patient, so you won't loose too much time for your other patients," the doctor continued. "Take the file with you, then you can read up on him over the weekend. I'll let the institution know that you'll be taking him on as a patient. There is always someone available so if you can let them know by Sunday when you'll be visiting him, they'll appreciate that greatly."


"I'll do that surely and thanks, Doctor Williamson, for giving me this opportunity," she told him calmly.


"Don't thank me yet, let's get through the first week, then decided if you want to thank me or not. He's proving to be a hard case, that one," he said, ending their conversation.


+++


She had his file laying open in front of her. It was a strange read. The man, only referred to as Remedio, no surname, seemed to have been linked to many crimes, but there never was direct evidence of him doing anything, everything was circumstantial. In earlier cases, he was mostly only noticed nearby the crime scene. The last few were different, as if someone wanted him to go to justice.


Turning a few pages, she glanced over those cases. On each occasion they had to let him go due to lack of direct evidence, they couldn't link him to the crimes directly, even though he was seen on the crime scenes. When they arrested him, they had found him hugging a child. It took several police officers to get the child out of his arms, but all help was too late, the child had passed away. The blood that covered Remedio was enough for the police to arrest him and finally make a case.


It was clear that from then on Remedio went silent, he stayed polite, but he just didn't answer anything, as if he didn't care anymore. His clear apathy with everything resulted in him being admitted in a criminal mental institution. As Doctor Williamson had explained, not one of the intern psychologists had any luck with him, nor did the doctors the hospital had sent. She wasn't hundred percent sure why the doctor wanted her to see him, but she couldn't pass the opportunity to work on this case.


Getting the papers back together, she neatly placed them back in the folder. Grabbing the sticky note on the outside, she called the institution to let them know she'd be coming by to see Remedio first thing Monday morning.


+++


She signed herself in at the front desk, was given a badge to identify herself as a visiting doctor. One of the resident guards guided her through the building. They stopped in front of a tiny room.


"Knock on the door two times when you're done, miss, I'll be right outside if you need me," the guard said before opening the door.


"Thank you," she said politely.


When she stood in the door, she noticed it was a tiny room. It fitted a bed on one side, a small table and a single chair on the other side. A low wall next to her hid a small bathroom sink and a stainless steel toilet.


In front of the tiny window stood Remedio, his back to her. She could see long black locks falling over his back, reaching a well shaped, jeans covered ass. He was tall, broad shoulders, did she mention tall?


As if he sensed he was being watched, he turned around and simply said: "Hello."


Her mouth dropped open, her hand grabbed her chest. It can't be, she thought. His hair is different, but it's him. It's definitely him.


"It's you," was all she managed to get out and then she just stood there.