The Withered Arm

Chapter 5- Falling

   Finally free from the voice, Sienna fell.

Her hair billowing out, framing her face; making the fall seem almost peaceful. With a trick of the light, it seemed as though she was in fact flying, reaching up and trying to touch the sky. Beautiful, white wings spread out of her back, glinting in the light, trying to help her fly back to heaven, to home; until she fell.

The peacefulness gone, the hope gone, the belief gone, the fear surged in bringing forth horrifying images that made the angel cry and scream in fear. For the pictures that had filled her mind were those of death; the deaths of the ones who had died before her, because of them, of the battle her kind were fighting ... and losing.

The most terrifying ones: being the death of her father, who had crashed when taking her to the shops when only three. The one where her mother was lying down and her eyes forever fixed onto the sickeningly white ceiling, while blood pooled at her head, a knife embedded in her bloody torso.

The final picture, however, was slightly different, for that person was alive, her best friend, her saviour and the only light in the blackened cell, it had chained her in. He was the only one left who hadn't died or left because they blamed her for the deaths of her parents.

He stood there reaching out, arms outstretched as though he could catch her; a tranquil vision to soothe her while she waited for her fragile body to smash as though it was glass against the tarmac.

She finally had accepted her frightful fate.