Wings

6: Only Then, I Am Human; Only Then, I Am Clean

Alright I've read the entire thing through and remember everything that happened and now I'm ready to update! Thanks for sticking with me even though I haven't updated a really chapter since like January!

NPOV

Track: Take Me To Church, Hozier

I wake up sweating, my breath ragged.

The room is dark. Moonlight filters through the window to highlight the edges of Will's face, making him look gentle and soft. He's beautiful like this. It doesn't compare in the least to what he looks like in the daylight.

I...should probably not be thinking things like that. It's kind of difficult, though. Will must have moved closer to me at some point in the night, and he's now laying on my wing like it's a really large pillow, and his cheek rests against my bare shoulder. I can feel his breath brush my skin.

I try to take a deep breath of my own, try to calm my racing heart. I shut my eyes, deciding that Will was right about this place being safe enough to sleep.

But the moment I shut my eyes, my nightmares are back, filled with Luke's eyes and the king's castle and wars and hunter's arrows and—

My eyes fly open again, my breath hitching. I can't sleep here. Besides, it still feels like a prison in here. The walls feel like they're closing in on me. My only solace—aside from the literal one lying on top of my wing right now—is the window, where I can make out a tiny square of the sky.

I stare at the ceiling, and it feels like it's falling toward me, like it'll crush me if I don't get out of here. There are so many walls. I'm not used to this—being inside. I don't like that the sky is hidden—I don't like the limited number of escape routes.

I can't sleep here.

Carefully, I push myself onto my elbows, and I'm trying to ignore the way my stomach is screaming at me to lie back down again. My whole body is in pain, actually, but the focal point of it all is that stab wound. If I can get outside, I can pray to Bianca to help me.

Will doesn't wake up when I move him slowly off the wing. I pull the blankets over him, and then I push myself off the bed.

I nearly fall; my leg sparks with pain, and my vision blackens around the edges. I shouldn't be moving, I know that, but this room is claustrophobic and I can't stay here. I grip the headboard of the bed with one hand to try to steady myself, and when the ground has stopped tilting beneath me, I take the first step toward the window.

It takes me forever to make it outside. My leg is giving me no breaks, and every step sends shooting pain to burn through my nerves.

Even by the time I do finally make it to the window, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to climb through it. I push it open, feeling the fresh air immediately seep into the room, and use my arms to push myself up. I tuck my wings and pull them close against my body, well aware that it's going to be incredibly embarrassing if I get stuck.

I have to kind of drag my injured leg behind me, a dead weight and an inconvenience. I manage though, and finally I fall to the other side. As soon as I'm outside, I unfurl my wings, spreading them wide and flapping quickly to avoid actually hitting the ground.

It's difficult to fly on injured wings. It's kind of excruciating, actually—worse than running on stabbed legs because flying takes a lot more strength in the first place, so throw in damaged muscles and the whole process makes all of those muscles, and every tendon and ligament, scream bloody murder.

My vision is going a little black around the edges again—that's alright, I just have to make it a little higher.

I manage to gain enough height that I fall onto the roof, groaning. But at least I'm here now. At least I'm no longer facing the threat of that ceiling falling on top of me. At least the sky is spread wide above me.