His Broken Angel's Dying Secret

I was a ghost haunting the halls of Port Sterling High, pretending to be alive. My only goal was to live like a normal teenager, even as the cancer eating me from the inside was a secret I guarded with my life. Then the school's resident psycho, Bishop Dalton, decided I was his to protect. He mistook my chemo-induced weakness for fragility and my nausea for nerves. He fought my battles, took detention for me, and glared at anyone who looked at me wrong, ready to tear the world apart for me. He was trying to save me from the monsters he understood, never guessing the real monster was in my own blood. Then one day, he saw it: the horrific, black-and-purple bruise on my arm from a blown IV. The fury in his eyes was terrifying. He was ready to kill whoever had dared to touch me. He grabbed my wrist, his voice shaking as he demanded a name. "Who did this to you?" I couldn't tell him the truth. The pity would have been a sentence worse than death. So I looked that beautiful, broken boy in the eye and gave him a lie far more cruel. "I did it to myself," I whispered, letting the tears fall. I watched the fire in his soul die out, replaced by a devastating pity. I had saved my secret, but in doing so, I had just become the tragedy he would try to fix.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Monday morning brought a cold drizzle and the suffocating heat of the school gymnasium.

The entire student body was packed onto the wooden bleachers for the weekly morning assembly.

Claire sat in the middle row. Her skin was a terrifying shade of gray. The weekend chemotherapy session had drained every ounce of energy from her cells.

Willow sat next to her, loudly gossiping about a senior's breakup. Claire couldn't hear a word. There was a loud, high-pitched ringing in her ears.

Down on the gym floor, Vice Principal Prynne tapped the microphone.

"Before we dismiss," Prynne announced, his voice echoing loudly. "I want to address a disciplinary issue. Bishop Dalton, come down here."

The gym went dead silent. Hundreds of heads turned toward the very top corner of the bleachers.

Bishop stood up slowly. He wore a black hoodie pulled up over his head. He kept his hands in his pockets.

He walked down the wooden steps. He didn't rush. He ignored the whispers and the stares.

He reached the microphone. He didn't look at Prynne.

Bishop flicked the metal mesh of the microphone with his finger.

A horrific, piercing screech of feedback blasted through the speakers.

Students covered their ears and groaned.

"I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused," Bishop said into the mic. His voice was flat, bored, and entirely unapologetic.

Some of the football players in the front row booed. A group of girls whispered about the fading cut on his lip.

Prynne snatched the microphone away.

"This is exactly the kind of toxic behavior we will not tolerate!" Prynne yelled. "You are a cancer to this school, Dalton!"

Up in the bleachers, Claire's hands balled into tight fists.

She thought about him taking the blame in the classroom. She thought about him saving the boy in the alley. She thought about him standing in front of her to block Prynne's flashlight.

He wasn't a monster. The people cheering against him were the real monsters.

The anger flared hot in her chest. Combined with the toxic chemicals in her blood, it was too much.

A massive wave of blackness rushed into Claire's vision.

The ringing in her ears turned into a roar.

Claire slumped forward. Her body went completely limp.

Willow screamed. She grabbed Claire's shoulders to stop her from tumbling down the steep wooden bleachers.

The scream cut through the noise of the gym.

Down on the floor, Bishop had been turning to walk away.

He stopped dead. Willow's piercing scream sliced through the deafening noise of the gymnasium. Bishop's head whipped around, his dark eyes frantically scanning the massive wall of wooden bleachers. He saw the sudden commotion, a ripple of panic spreading through the middle rows, and then his gaze locked onto the center of the chaos. He finally saw Claire's lifeless body slumped against Willow.

Something feral and terrifying ignited in Bishop's eyes.

He didn't use the stairs. He vaulted off the side of the stage, landing heavily on the hardwood floor.

"Dalton! Get back here!" Prynne screamed.

Bishop ignored him. He shoved his way through the crowd of standing students. He moved with such violent purpose that people scrambled out of his way.

He took the wooden bleacher steps two at a time.

He reached Claire. He looked at her chalk-white face and the cold sweat on her forehead. His jaw locked so tight the muscle jumped.

He shoved Willow out of the way without a word.

Bishop bent down. He slid one massive arm under Claire's knees and the other behind her back.

He lifted her effortlessly against his chest.

A collective gasp echoed through the entire gymnasium. Everyone was staring.

Claire's head rolled against his shoulder. She could smell the clean scent of laundry detergent and mint tobacco on his hoodie.

She blinked her eyes open weakly. She saw the hundreds of faces staring at them.

"Put me down," Claire whispered, her voice barely audible. "Everyone is looking."

Bishop's arms tightened around her like iron bands. He looked down at her, his eyes blazing with a fierce, uncompromising heat.

"Shut up," Bishop ordered softly. "I'm taking you to the nurse."

He carried her down the steps and out the double doors, leaving the entire school in stunned silence.

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