The day of judgment has come. Every soul, man, woman, child, will be judged for their sins. I'm not the judge, nor the jury. I am but one of many angels sent by God to act as an advocate for mankind. Last secret. One day, you'll kill me. But at least, you don't judge me like people do. Hey, so you're an angel, I order? Looks like it. I've seen you before. Maybe in a dream, or a nightmare. Can't tell the difference most days. Hopefully not a nightmare. You don't have to stand there. You can come in. Of course. I don't bite. Well, only once. And he had it coming. Yes, I know. Oh, so you could see that shit? No, I meant I know you don't bite. Sorry, I'm a bit nervous. Well, I wasn't until you walked in. I understand, April. Do I call you David or Angel? David is fine This should be simple I'm a screw-up Drugs, bad choices, people and cats I'm a dog guy myself So you do have a sense of humor? Of course I figure angels will be more cat people All dogs go to heaven Dogs can go, but for me I know I'm a long shot for that place. I appreciate you trying, but I know where my place is. Why do you think that? Because I'm an asshole. I don't believe in God much, most days. And I gave up on angels a long time ago. You showing up just feels... late. But I try to believe in... Please, finish. What? Which one? Who do you believe in, April? Myself. Some days I feel like smokier than gone. No one notices the fading. But you're still standing, April. You're still here, and that's what matters. Am I still here? You are. And your suffering has not gone unnoticed? I can be surrounded by 20 people and still feel completely alone. You're not alone. God uses many people to help carry you through. Pain echoes through bloodlines like thunder. Trapped in a canyon. But love, love is a quieter storm. It waits and it saves. Not alone. That beach story, the one where God carries you, always got me hopeful. quietly brave until I realized no one was carrying me. Has anyone told you what really happened to your mother? No. Do you know the story about your grandmother Afraid not I was raised by a woman I called my mom Whenever I ask about my real mother I always get the same answer She was a great lady, gone too soon. My grandmother? I have no clue. I can see why you feel so alone. Sometimes I wish I knew, but most of the time I'd rather not. I have dreams of them taking too many pills or jumping off tall buildings. What I do know is God never came and swept me up. Why do you have thoughts of them doing that? I just do. No beach story for me, David. God uses people to help as well. I've never been carried across anything, let alone a beach. No offense to him or you. I have a beach story. A very real one. Ignore it. Do tell. There was a ten-year-old boy named Johnny. He went to a private school with your mother's older brother, your uncle. Your mother was about four at the time. Johnny begged his father to let him stay the night at his friend's house. His father, exhausted from work as an asphalt paver, was hesitant, strict, but eventually said yes. When Johnny arrived, they played for hours. Your uncle, Johnny, and another friend from school, just kids, lost in the moment, playing video games. As the boys played into the night, your grandparents got into a fight. Not just any argument, a brutal, bitter one. Evil words were thrown back and forth. Both. No one was really at fault. But both carried equal anger. I've never heard this before. How do you know all of this? We don't carry books with passages. We carry memories like echoes. Threads of choice and consequence. I'm listening. Your grandfather left in anger. Your grandmother slammed the bedroom door behind her. A few hours later, the boys got hungry and started wandering into the living room one by one. And to their horror, they saw your grandmother hanging from the ceiling. Your uncle bolted out of the house screaming. His friend ran the opposite way, terrified. They both disappeared into the night. Where did they go? They ran for blocks until their hearts gave out. And my mother? Your uncle's friend, Johnny, saw her walking toward the living room. He grabbed her before she could see what had happened and took her outside. No help came. No one stopped. No one stepped in. And Johnny, he couldn't bring himself to go back inside with her. So he did the only thing he could. He picked her up, carried her in his arms, and walked three miles to your great-grandmother's house. A place he'd only been to once before. No, no, no, stop. I don't want to hear this. As your mother grew heavier in his arms, Johnny cried out to God for help. I... Your young mother, still strong, looked up at him and said, If I get too heavy, I can carry you. She was she was tough She was tough I heard She was When Johnny finally got her to your great house he begged them to take him home first He was afraid of getting in trouble, and they did. No one ever told me the truth. Just fairy tales and silence, I guess. Sadly, the story does not end there, I'm afraid. Of course it doesn't. When Johnny was about 22, he got a call from your mother. They hadn't spoken since that night so many years ago, but she talked him into meeting her. He hesitated, but he went. When he arrived, they talked for hours. All seemed well. She asked him to run to the store around the corner for more cigarettes. You were just a little girl, about five, sleeping soundly in your room. I think I remember him. As Johnny passed the corner store, your mother had already set her plan into motion. A much darker plan. She left four letters, each laid out like folded prayers. One bore Johnny's name, waiting like a ghost. David. When Johnny returned from the store, his car broke down on the way. He had no choice but to walk back. As he stepped inside, he saw the notes neatly arranged on the counter. He picked up the one addressed to him and walked deeper into the house. Don't say it, please. I already know. I just didn't want to. When Johnny entered the living room, he saw your mother had hung herself. He rushed to her, got her down as quickly as he could, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring her back. Was it a mistake? Did he try hard enough? There was no saving your mother, April. I don't, I... Johnny read the letter your mother had written. It simply said, Look after my daughter, like you looked out for me that night. Take her to this address. Forgive me. My God. He called the police, then took you out of your bed and walked you a few blocks down to your mother's friend's house. The one she had mentioned in the note. I remember him. What did he say to you as you had walked? I was just a kid, but I remember him. He was crying for my mother, kept saying her name over and over. I think he was praying too. He said more, but I can't remember. I was too young. He said, April, be braver than your mom was. Be more courageous than your grandmother was. Don't give up on people. Even when they give up on you, do this so I don't have to carry your daughter as well. It finally makes sense why the emptiness never left. Why would she leave me like that? Why would her mother do that to her? Make me understand, David. You took in your brother's children, didn't you? Yes. The best thing I've ever done. They're everything to me. And would you ever leave them? Never. They saved this lost cause. But they're all grown up and I barely get to see them. No. You're not a lost cause. You outlived your grandmother. Your mother didn't get that chance. You stayed when leaving would have been easier. Fought unseen wars and still showed up. So, why dig up ghosts we can't raise? The past won't change. We aren here to change the past only to remind people why they endured it I got through it didn I Because you didn give up on life The kids you helped raise didn either The boy he cured cancer didn he Yes And the girl she saved countless lives in the emergency room, hasn't she? Yes. That's because of you, April. Some nights, the darkness nearly swallowed me whole, and I thought I wouldn't see morning. But you did. I wanted to believe someone was watching. I just didn't think it'd be now. Help's been there, even when you couldn't recognize it. You look too calm, like none of this gets to you. If I let it get to me, I'd never stop weeping. I've seen every shade of sorrow, April. Yours is not the darkest, but it is one of the loneliest. I'm so tired, David. But I'm willing to stay, if it means I can help others get through this cruel world. Close your eyes, April. Tell me, what do you hear in the silence? Whispers of prayers? Or silence? Just peace. And the sound of your soul remembering how to breathe. and this time God will carry you home himself. Some say the angels stopped coming long ago, that the sky grew silent and people were left to carry their pain alone. But sometimes, when the noise quiets, if you're really listening, you can still hear the rustle of the wings. of me. From a kid to a man, from a man to a star. Bike to a minivan, to a supercar. Lights, let me see those hands, show me who you are. Dice, watch them land, go and cop a new car. Hot stakes, heavyweight shit, came up from the bottom. Only flex flows if you got them. Problems came and forgotten. I'm on that stress-free shit. If I believe, then I can be it. And I aim to be a star. It don't matter who you are where you come from had him one or more after one song every morning i wake up and i'm on put the beat on repeat and get the rhymes done started out funny now it's my life married to the game they're rapping my wife to have and to hold through sickness and death at least i'm at the point i can write my own checks hit the royal rumble now i'm last man standing Part of the state, but when the punches keep landing One, two, uppercut hook Learn from the best, can't do it by the book I was born with the flow, gases in my genes Material raw, but my rhymes stay clean I don't sit lean, but I smoke a little green Win some, lose some, stay true to the dream From a kid to a man, from a man to a star
