The Wingless Angel

I'm a Human, and I was suddenly dropped into Olympus. I have to adapt to this new life, but with who to help me? People think I'm an Angel, and that my wings were just gone somehow. After explaining I'm Human, they're still confused. Especially one Olympian...

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1. The End

I rushed home, tears streaming from my face. I couldn't take it, I don't want to go back to that place. That school is utter torture. The people there are just, vile. I can't see how some people can be so, horrible to their own kind. I bursted through the front door, unlocking it in an instant. I ran upstairs, wanting to just hide from the world. I threw my bags on the cluttered floor, and collapsed onto my bed. Burrowed my head between my crossed arms, and the tears flowed more and more rapidly. They couldn't stop, like a dam had burst. And the tears of all the broken came crashing down the riverbanks, making their way to the sea of lost souls. But my tears alone would overflow the seas, and flood the world.

 

The pain wasn't bareable, I'm surprised that I've survived this long. But no longer will this suffering go on. No longer will I go on. I gripped at my raven hair, tugging at it quite heavily. Wishing that if I did, the memory of that school would just be pulled from my head. The pain was almost pleasure.

 

Knowing I could easily end this pain, I headed downstairs. Knowing that nothing will ever get better. I rushed into the kitchen, and pulled out the cutlery draw. And stared at the shiny, mirror reflected image of myself on large knife. I grasped it by the handle, and lifted up. Constantly looking at myself in its reflection.

 

I placed the sharp side on my wrist, and prepared myself. I was shaking so much. But I knew this is what everyone wants, including my family. They never pay attention to me, and this, this is what they've caused. I quickly pulled the sharpness of the knife against my skin. The rip did nothing, just ripped the skin, and not the vein.

 

A blinding light illuminated from behind me. I turned, and couldn't help but be drawn to it. I dropped the knife. The vein in my wrist was spitting blood fast and viciously. I walked slowly to the light, I felt warmed as I got closer. I was always cold. I ran, wanting to feel warmth and no more coldness. I tripped on my own feet, my head hit the ground. I wasn't sure if I was injured. I fainted, but was glad. Because for once, I was warm.

 

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