Victims | By : MelissaMaxwell Category: +G through L > Gargoyles Views: 3356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles or make any money off them, Gargoyles are property of Greg Weisman and Disney |
December 23 1996
Elisa watched as Angela stood at the enormous bay window overlooking the city, gazing outside at the fallen snow. She looked fine, physically. The sun had long since healed her wounds. Elisa knew that things were probably quite different on the inside. "Hey, Angela." Elisa approached her.
"Hey." she said dully.
"Snow's coming down."
"It is."
"A boy named Chris from the Labyrinth has been asking about you. Wants to know if you want to drop in for the Labyrinth Christmas party." Nothing. /Elisa, you idiot!/ Elisa scolded herself. /Of course she doesn't want to go to the Labyrinth!/ "So, this Chris boy. He have a crush on you?"
"I seriously doubt it. He's gay."
"Oh." Elisa rubbed the back of her neck, trying to think of something to say. "Well, I was just talking to Broadway. He says you haven't spoken since...well...he thinks you're mad at him."
"Mad at him?" Angela spun to face her friend. "Elisa, he saved me! How could I be mad at him? If anything, he should be mad at me."
"Angela, we've been through this. It wasn't your fault."
"If I had been honest with Hollywood from the start...."
"You were polite. Sometimes that's preferable to honesty." Elisa sighed.
"I think I'm going to cut my hair."
"Whoa. You changed the subject so fast I think I got whiplash."
"I talked with Fox about making an appointment with Pavel. Fox told me that because I have a heart-shaped face I should get a layered pixie- whatever that is. She warned me against getting a 'That Girl' flip- whatever that is. She also said tall girls usually can't pull off short hair."
"Why do you want to cut your hair?"
"I tried to get away from him, but he grabbed my ponytail."
"Well, Angela, it's your hair and you do what you want, of course. But, I think if you get that haircut, it means Hollywood wins. Angela, you can't let something like this dictate how you live your life." No response. "Well, I'll tell Broadway you're not mad at him. But, I really think the two of you need to get together and talk." Elisa started to turn away. She was stopped when Angela said something that, at first came of as non sequitur.
"One in six. Every two minutes."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Before he went to London, Lexington showed me how to use the Internet. I used it to do some research. One in six women are raped. A woman is raped once every two minutes. And seventy-three percent of them are done by someone the woman knows."
"Angela, c'mon, if you think too hard about statistics, you'll go crazy."
"I thought I was helping, Elisa. I thought my purpose for being in Manhattan was to make a difference."
"And you have!"
"No. No, it was barely a drop in the bucket. All those men I picked up in back alleys weren't typical rapists. Most women are raped somewhere private, by someone they know, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it! Even little girls like Erin. What if it hadn't been some creep with a van? What if it had been her mother's boyfriend? Little girls...children. Women being hurt and humiliated like I was. Even killed! Women like Tasha who get abused by their own husbands. Only a small number of those will see any punishment. And I can't do a damn thing about it." Angela cupped her face in her hands.
Elisa put her hands on Angela's shoulders as she wept. "Angela, don't think you haven't made a difference. You can't save everyone. No one can! But, listen, you made a /big/ difference to the people you /did/ save. So don't go all Schindler on me, OK?" Angela tried to calm down. "I think you should talk to Broadway. He's very worried about you."
Angela nodded. "Where is he?"
"He's sitting in front of the TV. I don't know if he's really watching it, though."
Angela entered the room where Broadway was in front of the TV. Broadway was slumped over, not really paying attention as Santa sledded down a hill on a Norelco razor. "Hey, Broadway." she said as she sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He perked up and smiled broadly at the site of her. "Angela!"
"What's this nonsense I hear about you thinking I'm angry at you?"
"Well...it's just...." Broadway groped for words. "Angela, after what happened, how can you stand to look at me? Other than being a different color, I look just like him."
"Other than being a different color, I look just like Demona. That doesn't bother you?"
"Nah. You're cuter than Demona ever was." They both laughed. "I think next time we see her, we should tell her what her little creation did to you. She's evil, but she cares about you." /The only good thing about her, really/. Broadway mentally added.
"Hollywood didn't ask to be created, Broadway."
"Don't tell me you're forgiving that bastard!"
"Broadway, Hollywood isn't exactly like the men I catch trying to rape women. Hollywood has an adult body and a child's mind. He has physical desires that his mind can't make sense of. Add to that an adult gargoyle's strength and a small child's willfulness, and you have something very dangerous. The clones all are having trouble choosing between right and wrong because they no so little of either."
"Yeah, well, I'm starting to know how Lexington felt after Brentwood ran off with Thailog. I got an e-mail from him. Lexington, I mean. He and Hudson are staying in London over Christmas. He was also going on about this one gargoyle he calls Amp." Broadway smiled. "Do you think our little buddy's having a winter romance?"
"I hope he finds someone who makes him as happy as you make me." She held his hand. Broadway pulled Angela close for a kiss. The stress from the last few days was melting away. She still loved him and he loved her. Everything was going to be fine.
"So, you wanna get outta here and see a movie?" Broadway suggested. "Whitney Houston's done a new one called /The Preacher's Wife/. Denzel Washington plays an angel."
"I think I'd like that."
"Great!" I'll go check for movie times." As Broadway left, the news came back on.
"Christmas is a time of giving." said the reporter. "Not only is it a time to give to friends and family, but also to our fellow human being, a time to remember the less fortunate. Many charities in New York are looking for donations. I have with me Miss Carol Freiberg, founder of Angel's House. Miss Freiberg, what made you decide to call your charity Angel's House?"
"Well," said the woman. "A few months ago, I was on my way home from work late one night when a man attacked me at gunpoint and told me to take off my clothes. I tried giving him my purse, but that wasn't what he wanted. I was standing there, crying, and I started to take off my shirt when this purple angel with glowing red eyes swooped down and carried the man away."
"Do you believe this 'angel' was perhaps one of the gargoyles?"
"If it was, then gargoyles are not monsters but angels. This one was a beautiful shade of lavender with long dark hair. Her eyes glowed like bright red fiery coals."
"That last part doesn't strike me as being very angelic."
"Angels feel anger too, but it's a righteous anger that drives them to avenge evil. Because this one saved me, I started Angel House as a sanctuary for abused women and any children they may have. Since Angel House opened last month, we have housed over 135 women and children. We have provided rape kits and counseling sessions for over 74 rape victims."
"In one month alone? Those are some impressive numbers. Miss Freiberg.
"This is only a small fraction of the people who are in need of the services of Angel's House. If we could receive more funds, we could help so many more."
"Other than donations, is there anything else your charity could use?"
"More volunteers is good, of course. And we're having a toy drive for the children who live here with their mothers. And, of course, what we really need is more publicity. We need women to know that there is a place they can go to feel safe."
"Is there anything else you wish for this Christmas?"
"I wish I could say something to the angel who saved me that night. I don't know if angels, or gargoyles, whatever you choose to call them, watch television, but if they do, I'd like to tell that one thank you. You helped me, so now I can help so many others. As it says in the Talmud, 'Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire'."
"Hey, Angela," Broadway walked in. "The Preacher's Wife starts at the Bijou in, are you OK?"
Angela wiped away a tear and embraced her mate. "I'm just fine!" she said with a smile. "I'd like to make a request to Xanatos about something, though. I'm sure he'd agree if I could get Fox on our side."
"Whatever it is you want, Angela, we'll go for it."
A/N: The statistics I used are courtesy of RAINN. Their website can be found here: http://www.rainn.org/
And now a word for my "fan". The one who one stars my stories within hours. Stop it. I know who you are and why you're doing it. And you should be ashamed. It isn't cute. It's immature. I've gotten on with my life. I'd ask you to do the same, but that would require you getting one.
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