Normal people don't have demons hellbent (ha, ha) on keeping them alive. (Do they?)
I met Abaddon the day my father died. I was 8, and still believed that the boogeyman was hiding in my closet and there were monsters under my bed, so of course I wasn't surprised when I returned to my room and saw a horned figure not much taller than I was, seated rather comfortably on my bed.
With my stutter, I really couldn't manage saying Abaddon, so I called him Abby, much to his annoyance. But he couldn't hurt me. No one could.
Abby was so paranoid that as time passed he perceived everyone, from my mother, to the pizza delivery guys to the girls who always made fun of me at school for my stutter, as a threat. When I noticed that people who even so much as annoyed me kept turning up gruesomely dead (oddly, except my mother), I decided I needed to have a talk with him.
"Abby, you can't just go around killing everyone that annoys me. It's just...wrong."
"I'm a demon, I supposed do every fucking thing that's wrong."
"Language, Abby."
"I tell you all the fucking time to stop fucking calling me that."
But he did ease up on the gruesome slayings for a good four years, only killing the men who tried to rob, kidnap or rape me, and honestly I really couldn't bring myself to have a problem with that.
--
Fast forward to me at twenty-five. I didn't stutter all that much anymore, and I'd even grown a bit. Surprisingly, Abby had grown with me and then past me, so he was now a hair over six feet, with horns that curved toward the back of his head.
He'd just gotten rid of a bunch of lowlifes who had tried to grab my chain and various rather sensitive body parts by causing their ribcages to cave right in.
I was driving back home -- kinda stupid, considering my whole body was still shaking with fear -- and he was riding shotgun and trying to convince me to pull over so I could catch my breath.
"Pull over the fucking car before you crash and die, woman!"
"Abby, please. I need to get home."
"Pull over the fucking car!"
"No."
"Pull over the fucking car right this fucking minute!"
I decided to give in, because Abby could get a bit high-pitched when he was aggravated, and I really didn't have the funds to replace the windows he'd surely crack if he didn't calm down.
But, as I swung the car left, another car came barreling into the back of it and propelled me headfirst through the windscreen to land a good forty feet away.
(Side note: if that's what flying feels like, I'll pass, thanks.)
I regained consciousness to hear Abaddon cursing loudly beside me.
"Why the fuckkkkk won't this fucking asswipe die??!"
I was shook. Abby trying to kill someone and they weren't already dead? In the 17 years I'd known him, that had never happened before.
I saw the guy who'd crashed into me making his way over to where I still lay. He looked none the worse for wear, only a bit shaken. Lucky bastard.
Suddenly, I realized Abby was silently quivering where he sat beside me.
"What is it, Abby?"
"He's...he's got..."
Now I was afraid. Abby never stuttered.
"He's got a guardian angel."
