Charis

-sheol-

 sheol (she'ol): (n.) underworld

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November 19, 2028

Capital Sheol

Aura

"No... not anymore--ACK!"

I cringe at the sound of the pain-induced hack. Cradling my arm, I hide behind the corner. A figure hunches over the metal trash bin beside the shack, the shadow caused by his hood veils his face. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could see his mouth. I really wish I couldn't. Hands still clutching his stomach, he stills at the sight of the trash bin's lid. Or rather, what was on it.

The red liquid drips from the lid's side, falling onto the figure's sneaker. The hooded man raises his quivering hand to his mouth, only to feel more blood on the corner of his mouth.

Feeling faint, he falls backward onto the brick wall of the closed bakery, causing him to bump his head. "D-damn it..." he grunts. Sitting by the wall, his hands return to grasping his stomach, lungs gasping for air as his lips lets out loud wheezes. I look away. I have to hold myself back. Not yet...

I slide my back against the rough cemented wall of my corner. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I look down, and listen intently to the harsh wind carrying the cries of many. One cry in particular forces me to choke a sob. Oh, Raphael.

It stops. Thank God. I peek from my corner to see Raphael's calm figure. His shaky, raspy gasps for breath are still evident, however his shoulders are slouching and his fingers have unknotted. I approach his unconscious body and kneel in front of him. I raise my hands to touch the stubble by his jaw. I lift his head, and I gasp in distress. A bloody swollen lip, hollow cheeks, and grimy uncut blond hair characterize his features, along with his partially open bloodshot rust-colored eyes. What once was glittering gold has unbelievably turned to rust. I would not want to see them lose their luster any further.

You're running out of time, I think.

I gently touch his forehead, light emanating from the spot. "Peace be with you," I whisper.

At the same moment, Raphael's breaths mitigate. I smile at the unusually peaceful aura radiating from his body. Perfect. I sit down by the wall by his left.

"Raphael, Raphael, wake up," I shake his shoulder. "Raphael!"

His eyes flutter open, as if he were an infant newly born into the world. The jarring breeze causes him to kick in his senses; he immediately hugs his arms in a desperate attempt to attain any kind of heat.

His arms must feel numb due to the cold, so he can't feel my hand on his shoulder...

At my command, my fingers emit warmth. It clearly sends a shock through Raphael's body, and he subconsciously leans sideways towards me.

Finally, he takes his first look at me.

At first, there is a flash of fear, yet fortunately due to my Peace, wonder replaces it. Bronze orbs marvel at the source of his warmth. I smile softly at him. Surprisingly, he smiles back in absolute relief.

"Who-whoever you are..." he croaks with a hint of timidness. His calloused hands grasp my petite and innocent ones. "P-please... get me out of here. I-I'm sorry for everything I've done... I don't deserve your help but please... I can't take this anymore... I'm sorry..."

Before I catch another glimpse of the hopeless look in his eyes, he looks down, once again filling the wind with his howls. My heart clenches.

"Listen, Raphael, I'm going to take you to someone who I just know can help you. Will you come with me?"

Collecting his breaths, he looks up with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "A-as long as it's outside of this s-stinking capital, I-I am more than willing."

I beam, and stand up. Despite the frigid, harsh breeze fluttering my dress and slashing against the back of my knees, the joy of saving my father warms my heart to the point no cold can numb. "Then, let's get out of here, shall we? Please, take my hand."