Treasure in a person, there's a price on their heart.

It's not my fault!

Running through the field of trees. He didn't know how or why, but he didn't care. Luckily he wasn't too deep in the forest or else he wouldn't get there on time. Would he even get there on time? He wouldn't know until he got there.

He was surprised to even hear it, it was so feint that anyone else would have missed it from miles closer. But it was one of the traits of being a monster. Hearing that voice call out to him was a huge shock. Because there were only two people who called him "Bad," Mega and Skeppy.

But he assumed that it wasn't Mega. Skeppy. That scream of complete agony, scratchy and out of breath. He didn't know how he was able to talk, especially since he couldn't even laugh before. It didn't matter, he needed to go faster he was wasting too much time. He saw the edge of the forest and ran as fast as his legs could take him. He needed to see Skeppy.

He shouldn't have agreed to go look in the orchard. He should have just pretended he didn't care about Skeppy. He would have gotten into more trouble, sure. But at least then he would have been by Skeppy's side. He passed the pigs and headed straight for the house in the distance. When he was closer he could hear coughing but then it stopped suddenly. And finally he made it to the scene.

Margret was carrying a limp Skeppy to her horse, and putting him on the back. "What are you doing with Skeppy?" Margret turned sharply to see her son.

"The boy? He's dead." Margret replied. "No he's not. He just screamed for me a minute ago." Bad argued.

"An' ye was seconds too late." Margret stated. Bad went up to Skeppy and placed hand on his neck. He waited and waited but there was no pulse. Bad didn't step away from him. He couldn't. Not until he was sure that Skeppy was okay.

"Get ye hands off 'im. He's dead. Coughed and choked on his own blood. Ye can see from lookin' 'round." Margret said.

Bad could see. He saw the blood on Skeppy's lips. He could look back down and see the puddle of blood. He could see it. He could see the evidence laid out before him. But he still refused to believe it.

"He's not dead, Margret. He's not." Bad said.

"An' what in ye brain dead mind makes ye think that?" Margret asked. Bad turned to her with a scowl, something he would never imagine doing before. She flinched as her eyes went wide.

"He's not dead. I know it." Bad looked away from her and back at the boy.

"Skeppy, you can wake up now." Nothing. But a voice in his head still told him to believe that Skeppy wasn't dead.

"He ain't wakin' up." Margret stated.

"I know he will." Bad replied.

"Ain't no matter of wishin' now. Ye should've wished to get back 'ere faster." And what did she do during this?

"Maybe then he would still be kickin'. But he's not."

"Shut up." Bad said under his breath. He could never imagine telling his mother anything of the sort just a week ago. But it felt like nothing mattered anymore if he didn't have Skeppy. Because Skeppy truly understood him.

"Or what, demon? Ye gonna kill ye own mom. Do ye hate me so much?" Margret was just teasing him, knowing he couldn't do it. Bad shook his head.

"Good, now step outta the way so I can take Skeppy back to 'is mom for a burial." Margret grabbed Bad's hand and tried to remove it. But Bad didn't want to lose touch with Skeppy. Bad's shirt ripped from the back and two wings popped out and around the two boys, successfully pushing Margret away. She gasped when she saw them.

"Wings? When did ye get wings?" Margret asked. Bad's wings were an off white. Yellowish even. And at the edges you could really see the glow of gold from the sun. If he put his hood on, they would call him an angel. But he would rather keep it off and let others make the assumption of which one he was.

Bad stayed silent as he picked Skeppy up off of the horse. He easily fell into Bad's arms and against his chest. It would be cute if he wasn't on the verge of death.

"What're ye doin' with 'im." Margret asked.

"I'm going to the river." Bad said blankly.

"Ye can't go ta the river. What if someone sees ya?"

"Then let them see me." Bad said. Margret was baffled beyond words, but Bad ignored it and walked past her.

"Ye better get back 'ere."

"Or what, you're going to kill your own son? Do you hate me that much?" Bad said with a laugh. And surprisingly, Margret did nothing. Bad should have seen that as a warning, but instead he decided that he had won and kept walking away. He walked down that dirt path with tire prints. He opened the gate to the barn and stepped out.

He walked past the market, seeing many people stare at him, admire his wings or back away from his devilish look. He walked past the neighboring houses, seeing kids playing outside while parents watched from the porch or the kitchen window. He past the doctor's office, and in turn he passed the person on the porch. Jane looked at him with confusion.

He ignored her and continued on. He didn't feel like talking about the limp boy in his arms. Then he walked past the dirt and into the rocks, and there he sat with Skeppy in his arms. He was surely just sleeping. There was no way that Skeppy could actually be dead. And the voice in his head said that as well. Skeppy wasn't dead.