Clinging to my angel (1)

'Shit.'

The floor was cold, but... why am I on the floor? This perhaps shouldn't be asked, as the unbearable heat began to course through my body.

My throat, I wanted to rip it to this level.

'Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!'

I want to scream, I want to scream.

*blech*

Deceived by my prospect of screaming, I began violently regurgitating the blood that was trapped in my throat. I could be mistaken for a source of life if I didn't have a human body... The heat was only building, my mind clouded as if I was drunk.

'I think even a drink would come out with that amount of blood.'

The stage was destroyed and people were screaming and pushing each other, some in pain and some running. However, I alone marveled at the red carpet beneath my tiny frame.

Looking further down, I found the heat source. A cut on the bust, where to put your hand to understand reality and reality was painful. Inside the ditch I could feel something pulsing, I wish I could deny that cut, I wish I could deny that pain, I wanted to deny that pool of blood.

'Could I be in some kind of dire situation?'

This question could be the dumbest question of my life, but there was no point in thinking anymore, my consciousness was slipping away.

Even the heat that twists me, even the unpleasant sensation of blood, even the feel of my hand touching my organs. Everyone was disappearing, looking for my conscience.

'Deny seems to work...'

Slowly my eyelids were closing, the pain no longer bothered me to sleep. It was now a way to escape and return to where everything is: Nothing.

But things could be more difficult, with a silhouette carrying me. But even in the blur he could see that she had white hair.

'An angel?'

I felt discredited, but for my little body it was my salvation.

It didn't matter anymore, angels or demons...

'Someone help me…'