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I’ve never felt truly alone in my life. If ever I was “alone” in a room, I’d feel a pair of eyes watching me. My mother said this was an angel was watching over me. I’ve seen glimpses of my angel. One would think angels would have smooth skin and white wings, but not mine. His wings were disheveled and burnt, his skin scarred. He’d tell me it was from saving someone he watched before me in a fire. I’d ask for his name or something to call him for when I needed help and he’d respond “I’ll tell you in your last moments”.

A few years later, someone took me. He’d keep me in his basement and beat me. I felt truly alone and would think to myself, ‘Where’s my guardian angel?’. As I laid bleeding for hours on this man’s floor, my angel appeared. By the look on his face, he knew I was dying. He cradled me in his arms and onto his lap.

“These are my last moments, huh?” He nodded through deafening silence.

“What’s your name?” Pausing for a moment, his eyes became black. Before the world vanished into darkness, he said one word.


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