Strings of Fate

Chapter 33: When Angels Break

Y/n's POV

The flying felt endless. It felt like no matter how long I flew, nothing would make me arrive at my destination. 

Because this time, I decided to fly. Slow, but still flying.

I never really used those wings. And this tail was truly a pain sometimes.

I don't even know what initially made me dislike this aspect of myself.

Was it because they were heavy, like a pain kept inside for too long? 

Was it how they are so big that it's difficult to sleep with them?

Maybe it's because this stupid tail was mopping the floor from its natural dust, like how gullible we can be when manipulated?

I hate myself. I always did. 

I couldn't save Victoria that day. When the fire started. Instead, I was such a brat that I did not want to leave my bed out of sleepiness, even when she shook me awake when the fire was getting to the second floor. Imagine how I felt when I understood she wasn't kidding when the smell of smoke made me cough like a compulsive smoker...

My sloth is what killed Victoria. Made her save my life over hers. 

I remember now how it happened. What actually happened. 

The day before, I was the one who cooked for the whole family. I thought that this would greatly help the others, since Mother was always doing it, Micheal just married Betty and came home for their first dinner as married, and Vic was busy in her room doing...

Actually, I can't remember what she was doing. But she seemed so busy, I didn't care enough to bother her to do dinner.

So I did. And for the results it got, my gombo was loved by the whole family. It even got complimented by Mother and Vic, whose own gombo recipes are the best. 

But I remember stopping the fire before going to bed. I remember doing so, so maybe I-

The train of thought in my head stopped. Immediately. In an instant.

First, a stinging pain. Then, tear, like ripping skin. After, insufferable, white flash of pain. Like someone was crushing my bones. Like they begged for mercy. Even if they knew it would never happen.

The sky tilted. Wind followed my downfall. Sticky, red liquid followed the wind from my back. I felt cold. Lighter, but heavy with pain. I couldn't yell in pain: maybe this was the worst of it all.

I crashed on the ground. Still felt cold. But I couldn't say where I was. Hell was spinning. I couldn't say what's happening. But a gut feeling told me I need to fight for my life.

Henry's POV: 

The Radio Tower had only having few small rooms: the biggest being for the broadcasts. It interested me a lot. I never visited those, but they were mostly experiments when I was alive. Interestingly, they were now quite present and even in some homes. I could see the work left with it, and he was doing a great job. I see now why he became a radio host.

When no broadcasts were held, we both talked over black coffee: anything was the conversation. Sometimes, trying to understand how it all works, sometimes just laughing about our human lives. I learned that he was also a New Orleanian, explaining why he killed my child. Don't get me wrong, I was mad at him for this at first, but I was mostly mad at myself for hiding it from Y/n. Alastor may not be the perfect, sinless guy, obviously: he killed many, including them. But he loves them, I do know that, and what he now had in mind, but I did tell him to take it slow, knowing they would surely need some time.