The Angels Must Die - Chapter 0.1

PROLOGUE


part 1


St. Louis Cemetery, New Orleans, Virginia, on the night of March 26

"You're not an angel!"

The man shouted furiously.

Each time he made a sound, his fat cheeks wobbled like a pig.

Face full of pimples from eating only junk food, bushy red hair that only God knows when the last time he combed it, an ugly protruding belly, plus rustic jeans and a cotton shirt that exuded a rural vibe.

How the hell a funny-looking creature like this exists? Oh! I know this not-so-popular comedian, you should teach him how to be like you! The secret to turn yourself to be ugly enough and make people laugh!

Barbara—although the name given by her parents when she was born was Daniel—snorted.

"Oh really? But ordering someone you meet for the first time to do a blo*job in a corner of a graveyard like this, isn't that a bit too much?"

The pig standing in front of Barbara spat and struck back.

"I was fooled by your blonde hair and blue eyes! You were a liar too. A real angel wouldn't say such vulgar things. They would never say those!"

Angel! Angel! Angel! Barbara scoffed, "Ha!"

"I'm sick of it! This guy that guy, you idiots always say the same thing just because of my blond hair! But at the end of the day, you will end up saying, 'You're not an angel!' after having fun with my body. Like hell, there's an angel in this fu*king world. God nor angels have ever existed!"

"Noisy!"

The man covered his ears and stomped his feet on the ground.

"God exists. Angels do exist!"

He acted like a child having a tantrum. Something an adult would not do.

Barbara mixed the remaining man's semen with saliva in his mouth, spat it on the ground, and tried to threaten the fat man. No matter how gay she was, there was no need to be nice to this beyond awful guy.

"What?! It's my job to be loud. You on drugs or something? You were the one who seduced me first! Don't make me laugh. Just quick, pay me!"

The man panicked. He swayed his hands and began to make excuses that some foams form in the corner of his mouth.

"I-I just wanted to talk to you!"

"Talk? You insisted on saying that you were looking for me, followed me here, and that's it? Just to talk to me? Then shouldn't you stop me when I touched your dirty jeans zipper? You filthy pig!"

Barbara patted his knee and stood up, dusting off her mini-skirt. The dress she wore was a skirt short enough to show her hips. There was actually no dust on it, she just acted that way on purpose.

It was a hell of a night. Barbara was angry and bitter. She didn't even understand what she had done just ten minutes earlier. Why the fu*k did she have to suck this ugly man's penis?

“Have you ever lived in Colorado before?” Those were the man's first words. Once she passed the man, he suddenly followed her, desperately asking.

Barbara was just wandering the streets of the night looking for some customers. If she's lucky, she might be able to secure a meal and a bed tonight. New Orleans was famous for its hot weather, but Mardi Gras* was just over the other day. Sometimes it's still cold at night. She wanted to sleep under a roof if possible. Her ideal plan was to catch some tourists, make them treat her to some liquor and creole, then go to a hotel. But a stupid obese man spoke to her instead. She couldn't help but hold on to him.

She looked back and raised her voice as cute and high as possible, "Yes, anything I can help you with?" She smiled in the sweetest way possible. Barbara was already in her 30s and the heyday started to pass, but she was confident that she still looked pretty enough. Moving her gaze, she quickly evaluated the man. He was in his early thirties.

Although the man wore rustic-looking clothes, the watch on his wrist was a luxury brand. Carrying a large backpack, is he some rich farmer's son coming from the countryside? But, well, Barbara was not particularly interested in the man's origin. The question was what lies in his wallet. And what's inside his pants.

Hearing Barbara's response, the man clapped his palms and rejoiced.

"You've lived in Colorado before, blonde hair and blue eyes! You must have had a wing-shaped tattoo on your back, correct?"

For a moment, Barbara had a bad feeling. She indeed had a wing tattoo on her back. It was a tattoo that they forcibly smeared back in the day when she was still a boy. From her shoulder to her waist, they engraved huge wings that looked like they can fly away.

But a "yes" still slipped out of her mouth. It doesn't really matter, she thought. People with wing tattoos on their backs were bound to rot across the United States. She didn't have to pay particular attention.

"Yes, I do. Why is that?"

The man's expression lit up.

"I really found the real thing! I finally found you!"

The man was speaking in a jolly manner.

"I've been traveling all over the state because I miss you... Ah, so many years have passed since then, but you're still so beautiful!"

It wasn't a made-up look. Barbara knew because she had lived through the storms of the world for many years. She had that much level of insight. She asked, a little embarrassed.

"Am I that beautiful?"

The man reacted almost too soon.

"Yeah! You are super beautiful! It's like you're having this shining light around you!"

Barbara's chest bounced. How many years had she been praised by a man? Did her makeup go well tonight? Her beard shouldn't have grown yet. Barbara stroked her chin and spoke hesitantly. She wanted to somehow hold on to the man.

"Well, I was in Colorado more than a decade ago, but..."

To be precise, it was eighteen years ago. A creepy past if she might add. But the compliment "beautiful" was worth revealing the truth.

"Have we met somewhere before? Did you used to live in Colorado too?"

Barbara tried to pull the thread of her memory. She might have met this man before. Was it the time before or after Barbara entered 'The Prison'?

There was no way this man was also one of the children who got locked up in that prison. Barbara tilted her head. The man's age did not differ much from Barbara's. If so, he would have been Barbara's 'comrade' rather than 'them'. But this man had a reddish hair color, not blonde. All her 'comrades' in that place were blonde. Blond hair and blue eyes. White boys with slender bodies. This man did not have any of those characteristics.

Barbara asked suspiciously.

"You...how do you know me?"

That place was deep in the mountains, far from the outside world. Surrounded by high walls on all sides. She did not remember having any contact with a neighbor in the years she lived there. Besides, she was a boy at the time, not an adult. And she dressed as a woman now. People would not have recognized Barbara had they been an ordinary acquaintances.

"I was born and raised in Colorado, but this is the first time I've met you in person."

She asked back the man, "Then where did you get to know me? How?"

Then the man spread his hands wide in front of Barbara and began to talk triumphantly.

“Of course, on TV! I still remember, all seven of you were so beautiful. You all are angels—I know everything about you guys. Anything about the angels who grew up in 'The Only Pure and Righteous Church of the Children of God'!"

Barbara froze.

'The Only Pure and Righteous Church of the Children of God'.

Her lips were contorted. She suddenly felt like vomiting. She had previously served in that church. She used to be imprisoned there.

Imprisonment—there was no other way to put it into a word. She was not even ten years old at the time she was brought to the cult. Men in white clothes suddenly dragged her into a van while she was playing ball with friends on the street. Only Barbara among her friends. From then on, her mind wandered in those daunting days until the police rushed through and rescued Barbara and the other children.

In that dark, cold and disgusting place, she was forced to suffer asceticism.

Barbara opened her mouth to spit out swearing words, but nothing came out. Who the hell should she curse? To the twelve crazy men who shamelessly called themselves 'Apostles of God'? To her parents who did not try to find Barbara? Or to the ruthless world who rescued the children but then left them cold?

That sort of thing did not matter anymore. Now she was not here to blame anyone. At least Barbara could wear socks right now. No angel wears socks, they said. No matter how much the children cried and begged, they forced them to stay barefoot all year round. So were the clothes. Only one thin cotton tunica was allowed to wear in the extreme cold—now she can eat whatever she liked and go wherever she wanted. She didn't have to pray to God several times a day. She did not have to undergo the scary 'adult examination', she can enjoy s*x to her heart's content with a real living man.

Yes. Barbara was beyond grateful now.

"...Yes. That's right."

Then that meant this man was one of the cult followers. She was convinced without saying anything. Barbara desperately tried to regain her composure.

It's been eighteen years since the cult was discovered, and she was surprised there was a person who still remembers the lengthy name of the cult correctly.

To her annoyance, this kind of pathetic human existed in this world. Lying on a comfortable air-conditioned living room sofa, eating potato chips, sympathizing, and falling in love with the poor victim boys in the news footage. In the end, they treat the boys as an idol and chase after them.

Indeed, Barbara and the other kids suffered tremendous hardship shortly after their rescue. It might have been a lot harder than the days of harsh service in that prison. Wherever they went, the media cameras followed them excitedly. They nicknamed the kids 'tragedy boys', emphasizing only the se*ual abuse, mixing the truth and lies with unpleasant speculations, and eventually led to kiddy po*no—a por*ographic video in which little children appear. She even heard it was used as a material for several works with settings of the incident.

It's over now. Barbara thought.

She had already tasted the pain of a lifetime. Despite the rescue from the cult, she could not return to a proper life. She wandered from one man to another, and now she even lived without a home.

She was frankly tired. Making money on the street was also slowly reaching its limit. Not a matter of age or appearance, but mentally.

In this day and age, it's easy for a gay person to find a partner, yet Barbara has no friends to chat with, let alone a lover. —Although there was barely one 'comrade' left to whom she exchanged letters for many years. However, she did not want to tell the person her messy life, so she deliberately wrote only bright and happy stories. Can she stop wishing for a peaceful life now? Oh, and if God does really exists, will He forgive Barbara if she holds on to happiness even a little?

Barbara grabbed the man's hand and dragged him away foolishly.

"Stop talking about the past. Come this way. I'll do you a favor."

"Wait a minute. I still have a question for you..."

Ignoring the man, with her usual business smile, she forced him into the St. Louis cemetery. There, she can do her job without being noticed by others. For Barbara, a homeless prostitute, the cemetery was a place to be thankful for. A place where it can be used as her business store as well as a place to sleep for free.

"No. Stop talking uncool stuff. I'll answer your question later."

Maybe this man was the one who can save Barbara from her bottom life. It didn't matter if the other person's feelings were sympathy or an illusion.

Or was it the other way around? Did she just pitying him for his very ugly appearance? Maybe Barbara was doing that because she wanted to show the chubby guy who's apparently never touched anyone's skin, heaven at least once.

Soon, once they arrived at the cemetery, Barbara devoted herself to the man's heartfelt service, using the proud skills she had trained for years—tight lips and a well-moving tongue. That's it. She thought it was also okay to roll up her skirt and showed him her secret pride—referring to her ass hole, of course. She had no intention of listening to the man's swearing.

However, the man's anger did not subside, it amplified instead.

"Angels must not be tainted! Tainted angels must be punished!"

Barbara was terrified at the man's condemning tone. Those words reminded Barbara of the past she didn't want to recall.

Words she had heard many times in that place.

They said those words for literally anything. While chanting so, they swung their whip. Ordering the children to do harsh work outside. In the name of God, in a monastery deep in the mountains, where the temperature often went down below 10 degrees Fahrenheit.

And what was most disgusting was the daily 'body inspection to see if the boys have yet turned into an adult'.

Fear spread throughout Barbara's body. She was now in a warm place far away from the cold church, but she suddenly felt like being dragged back to that frozen prison.

The man kept stomping his feet like a child having a tantrum.

"I just want to know about 'Little Angel'! I just wanted to ask if you were the 'Little Angel'. If not, do you know where he is? But you started doing weird things on your own!"

A cold sweat ran down Barbara's back. She could no longer have her feminine voice. She asked in a begging, low male voice.

"...Little Angel?"

She knew someone by that nickname. But Barbara asked without revealing her true emotion in the voice. Does he really want to meet Raymond? What the hell's this man's business with that kid?

Raymond.


NOTE:

Mardi Gras is French for "Fat Tuesday", reflecting the practice of the last night of eating rich, fatty foods before the ritual Lenten sacrifices and fasting of the Lenten season.



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