Once upon a time there was a guardian angel. She was the purest of heart, and she brought joy wherever she went. When God saw who she was, he assigned her to watch over the most unlucky and miserable of the humans. Time after time she was there for the unfortunate; laughed with them, cried with them. She gave them all a bit more comfort and love before they found their inevitable fate. Thousands of lifetimes passed, and with time she only grew wary of the pain. "Every person I love gets hurt," she thought, "Am I to blame? Am I a bad angel?" She tried harder and harder to keep them safe. Happy. And every time she failed. Fate can be molded, but not changed entirely after all.
In the end, the angel deemed herself the problem and gave up completely. She fell into a pit of despair, guilt, and eventually hate. In the end? Well, she-I became nothing more than a demon. I once thought I was the problem, and that hasn't changed. Now I really am the problem. I have found my feathered wings molten, my head of light darkness, and my path a shaded one. But alas, what else is the fate of a creature on earth?
"Raina, where were you last night? You didn't show up to the dinner party!" a coworker teased from across the room. I organized my papers as I pretended to ignore her. I was always the quiet one, the weird one. I didn't have any friends, but... that was how I wanted it to be. I shouldn't have what I can't bare to lose. That hasn't, however, stopped some people from trying. I'd be lying if I said I didn't care, or that it didn't make me happy. Maybe one day I'll change my mind, but for now? For now this is my life. The simple work as a human who works a desk job, readily putting work before everything else. How long will it last?