My Angel by Hannah Shekey

I feel my phone buzz. The screen lights up; It’s time. I get out of bed. Her daily run is in 10 minutes. I can see my breath in the cold night as I walk under the blanket of stars with the bright moon lighting up my path. 3:45am. Right on time, I watch as she runs past the fountain. Her long blonde hair looks silvery in the moon, so athletic and beautiful like an angel in the night. She dances to her music as she runs. The cold has no effect on her in her own little world. I can feel the hair on my body stand on end like an electric zap as she runs farther into the distance. 

I know her trail well, and I can do it with my eyes closed. A left here, a right there, two blocks south, a left, and then she stops at the skate park to look at the stars. I try to focus on the sound of her shoes hitting the pavement echo in the night. I follow. I feel like I’ve known her for years. I watch her remembering to always keep my distance. I know her every move. 

 It’s funny what electronics can do now. Anyone can find you by using your social media. It doesn’t take much. I love looking at her instagram pictures. I frame my favorites on the walls in my bedroom. All the cute selfies she takes on snap. They send a rush of energy through me. She’s so cute with all the goofy filters. I keep the picture she took with the filter that puts little dinos on your cheeks in my wallet. She looks so adorable in it. I want her all to myself. She posted her Night Run spotify playlist on snap for me to listen to while I watch her run. She doesn’t know that I listen to it yet though.

I pull up a block from the skate park as she finishes her run. My phone screen lights up. She posted a new selfie on snap. I watch as she sits at the top of the skate area. She’s so pretty with the light of the moon on her pale skin. She seems to glow. I watch as she poses for an Instagram picture. I take my Nikon camera off the seat next to me and snap a few pictures of her. The picture she will post will be beautiful, but there is something about taking my own that just feels so much nicer. Capturing a picture of my Angel. 

I placed a skateboard near the location she goes to every night. I sit and wait for her to spot it. It’s purple with angel wings on the bottom. She wrote on her Tinder profile that she loves the color purple, and she looks like an angel. I watch as she walks over to it. I can tell she wants to try it. I watch as she gets on and goes down the first hill. She takes a picture with the board. She’s so cute when she’s excited. She starts to ride down a bigger hill, but she loses control and she falls off. I watch in horror as she hits her head and starts bleeding everywhere. I get out of my car and run to her. I quickly call 911 and run back to my car. I can’t let her see me. I watch as the color drains from her skin. I feel my heart racing, what if she saw me? What if she posts later that an ugly guy saved her? If she called me ugly it would shatter my heart like glass. I don’t think I can take that. I sit and wait for the Medics to come save “my beautiful angel”. I listen to her In My Feelings playlist as I watch the Medics take her away from me. Millions of thoughts running through my head. God I hope she didn’t see me.

Thank God for Snap. I used her snap location to find the hospital she was taken to. She posted the photos she took last night on instagram. Thankfully she didn’t post anything about me. I breathe easier as I admire her photos. She looks so beautiful in them. The lighting is just perfect. I compare them to the pictures I took of her. I think I’ll print these ones out. You can see the reflection of the moon in her blue eyes. The angel wings on the skateboard look so pretty with her outfit. Her long hair was flowing in the slight breeze. I feel my heart flutter as I look at her. 

I angled my car so that I could see the hospital room she was in. I checked her snap, and she posted an update that she was fine and would be out tomorrow. I sent her flowers, pink roses are her favorite. She takes lots of pictures with pink roses. They bring out the light pink blush in her cheeks. My favorite is the picture she took in a white mini skirt and a light yellow top. She had the roses in the back and her hair down. I made sure to wait a minute before I liked the picture. The thoughts of her make me blush. 

I watch as her room lights turn off, and I notice my phone screen lights up. She updated her profile on instagram. I immediately checked it. I feel a rush as I go to see what she posted. She changed her status from single to talking. I feel my heart break. Anger rises in me. She’s mine. Who is trying to take her from me? I look through the people she follows, and I check all the comments on her pictures. I have most of the names and comments memorized. I noticed a new comment under the picture she posted last night. “My baby shines brighter than the moon I swear.” How did I miss it? She gets lots of comments on her pictures, but she never dates anyone. 

He’s 18, six foot two, brown hair, muscular, tan, and super athletic. I check his snap and instagram for all of the information I can get on him. I hate how perfect he is. She is meant to be mine. She just doesn’t know it yet. How could she let this man take her? I watch my screen light up as he posts a picture. He posted a picture of her. He captioned it “I’m so lucky to get you baby, you’re so perfect I swear.” Jealousy flows through me. Her beauty shines through the photo. Her smile is so pretty. Her teeth shine like pearls. I look at her window one more time before I drive past her house on my way home. I leave one of the photos I took of her in her mailbox. I wrote “A Photo of an Angel” on the back. I watch her house fade in my rear view mirror as I drive home. 

I ordered her favorite Chic-fil-a order to try and make me happy. She always gets the grilled nuggets, larger fries, strawberry shake, and honey mustard. A weird combination, but it’s her favorite. I like to look at her Instagram photos as I eat. I watch a notification pop up on my phone. “Steven’s moving location” I get into my car to see where he’s going. 

I follow his snap location. He is taking a different route than the one to his house.  I see his location stop at Layla’s house.  Layla and my angel have been best friends since they were kids. I check her Instagram to make sure it is Layla. Sure enough it is. I take a picture of Steven’s car parked in Layla’s driveway. My phone lights up, a notification appears “Steven turned off his location.” I screenshot the notification. I watch as they walk up to Layla’s room on the second floor of her house. All the times I’ve watched Layla and my angel go up there. All the photos they have taken together. I watch the light in her room turn on. Through the window I can see them making out. I took a photo. I wait a little longer. I feel my anger flowing through me. I wait and watch for an hour before I leave. 

I printed out the photos that night and waited for my angel to go on her run. When I saw her pass the water fountain at the same time as always, I knew it was safe. I drove to her house and left the photos in her mailbox. I waited. My screen started lighting up. My Angel’s social media was blowing up like fireworks. The pictures had been posted of Steven and Layla. She was crying. Anger flooded through my veins. No one hurts my Angel. 

His location was back on. I followed it. He was in his room with Layla. How dare they hurt my love. I watched them. The back door had been left open for Layla to get inside. I made sure to stay quiet as I walked to Steven’s room. I had grabbed the knife off my desk and could feel the weight of it in my hand. I want to get them for what they did to my angel. I feel the warm handle to Steven’s room in my hand. I open the door quietly and slip inside the room. The quiet sound of their breath filled the air. I took a photo for my angel of them. Then I quickly slit Steven’s neck and watch as his blood poured out of him. His eye’s opened in fear. I made him watch as I slit Layla’s neck. There blood poured out onto the bed. The fear and pain shined in their eyes like a stars in the sky. I took a picture for my angel. I quietly left the room and made sure to wipe the handles before I left. The feeling of joy filled me. My angel will be so happy. 

I printed the photos out when I got home.  I wrote “They got what they deserved” on the back. I made sure to wait till she was asleep in her room before I put them in her mailbox. She’s so peaceful when she sleeps. I love how calm and still she is. I watch as her chest rises and falls. Her pink lips and dark eyelashes make her look like a painting. I take a few pictures of her sleeping. You can still see where her tears had been on her pale skin. My pictures will help me to remember her beauty forever. I smile as I walk back to my car. My angel will be happier in the morning. 

I woke up late seeing my phone had blown up earlier this morning. The photos I took had gone viral. My angel was freaking out. She posted all over her social media. I could feel anger rising in my veins. She posted “some twisted freak left these in my mailbox!” I checked the comments and the things they were saying were so mean. I did this for her. How could she say these things? I love her. I wanted her to be happy. How dare she. I watched as she posted that day, reading all the comments. #stalker was on her pictures. The anger boiled in my veins. How dare my angel do this to me. I yelled as I took every picture of her and shredded them. 

I watched as the shreds burned in the flames. My anger was flaring as hot as a fire. I feel the knife in my hand as I see my phone light up again. My angel is home. I grin as I get into my car and drive to her house. I go to her window first. I take some ashes out of my pocket from the fire and I put them on the window. I printed out the only photo I had left of my angel. The photo of her sleeping, so lovely. It’s a shame it has to end this way. I put it on her window, I wrote “I’m here for you my angel” on the back. With one last look I walk back to my car. 

 I know where the hidden key is. I’ve watched her use it millions of times. I unlock the door. I walked in quietly, closing the door behind me. I look at the inside of the house. I’ve seen it in photos so many times. I never thought I would see it in person. I walk towards her room, I hear the familiar sound of her breathing. I open her door slowly. I see her phone lighting up next to her bed. I pull my knife out of my pocket. The light of the moon outside the window makes it seem to glow. I slit her throat and watched as her rose colored blood poured all over her purple bed sheets. She was beautiful even as her skin paled and her blood poured out onto her bed. I picked up her phone. She didn’t have a password on it. I took a photo of my angel laying dead. I kissed her lips and left. 

I saw my phone light up. My angel posted. The photo of her dead on her bed with the caption “Goodnight sleep tight, my angel. I love you.” 

4 thoughts on “My Angel by Hannah Shekey

  1. This was a fun one to read Hannah. I am not up to date about how Instagram can track locations and such. So you educated me too. The blood pouring out onto the beds was very over the top. A Steven King in the making.


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