A Devilish Gamble

Delusion

Rain was a heavy downpour on the New York street. People hurried past, busy to get places away from the showering weather. Most cursed quietly to themselves about how it was stupid weather for the incoming end of August. Their footsteps making a splash sound as they stepped in the puddles forming on the cement. The sky was darkened with a thick blanket of clouds.  The rain pattered against roofs, walls and pavements. Creating a loud but calming background noise.

At least he thought it was calming. His left eye was blackened and half closed in bruising as it throbbed with pain. His breathing was short and sharp as he held his side and watched the sky. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped to the floor. It stained his white shirt underneath. He could taste the metallic blood on his tongue and it trickled down his chin. His white hair was messy, unorganised, filthy looking. In fact that's how his whole body looked. It was the messy remains of a tricky man. He looked up at the rainy sky with blurry vision. He would of laughed if I didn't hurt so much.
"This what you wanted for me then old man?" He asked as he sat up against the wall, a dry cough wheezed from his lungs, "you wanted me to die down here dad?"
Feathers lay around him, soaked and drowned in the downpour of rain. The feathers were the purest white of colour, the rain ruined their silky soft look and dampened the look of glow they had. His wings were a slight cushion for his back. Blood dripped from his back along his white wings creating a small river that split off and connected again on the path towards the floor. The fallen angel coughed more as he tried to talk.
"I guess this is my time up here isn't it? I'm gonna die, and I bet you are sooo loving the idea of seeing me again. So you can forcefully make me listen this time" he laughed.
He realised how insane he must of looked, but there was nobody around in the alleyway of the bar. Nobody had heard the calamity, nobody had cared. He hadn't expected them to sneak up on him when he went for a smoke break. At the age of seventeen he knew he shouldn't, but nobody in the city cared. Under aged  anything could be easily over looked for the right price.

"Only fair I suppose, I was stupid enough to fuck with 'em" he said. His accent was thick and strong. Showing he was from around that area. Although it was more Italian New Yorker. He let his eyes close as the pain continued to pulse through him. He was rather surprise nobody had heard the shot. Not like it mattered anyway. This was how he was going to die. Nobody knew where he was, he was bleeding out. There was no surviving.

It seemed like such a waste of a life. He was still extremely young. No rough facial hair to dirty him up. No tired look in his eyes although one was now turning purple with bruising. No wrinkles. Perfect looking teeth which surprisingly hadn't been chipped broken or knocked out. Yet his heart and ego had already been damaged to the point where he had nothing, maybe that's why he had chosen the dark path he walked. He looked all pretty and handsome on the outside with enough charm to weasel his way around but had the darkened heart of a rough middle aged man.

His ears tuned to the rain as it hit the trash cans around him. The strange rhythm was calming and distracted him from remembering he was going to die. Without even realising it, he fell asleep to the sound.