Angel's Mafia (gxg) ✓

LVI | Loss

ANGEL

"NO," I CRY OUT, MY VOICE STRANGLED, ANIMAL. I DON'T sound human. I feel a burning sensation spreading through me, and I sink to my knees. I fall to the ground. I fall, and I keep falling. This never ends. It's never over.

Dominic is in my arms. I cover his chest frantically, but the blood keeps pulsing, and pulsing, and pulsing―it doesn't stop, it's not stopping―

I let out a scream that is so carnal, so primitive, it sounds like death.

These are ugly tears; this is ugly sobbing. This is loss, in its most human form. This is pain, and I have never felt anything like it before.

"Don't cry, Angel," Dominic chokes out. Blood is on his lips, and it shines black like oil.

"It's not supposed to go like this," I say. Tears slip into my mouth. Mucus streams down my upper lip. This is not beautiful; this is not a romanticized version of death.

"It's okay," he says, and I grab his hand, desperate. I try to keep his wound covered, try to staunch the blood but it doesn't work―it doesn't work―

"No, come on, stay with me, you won't die." I hold his hand so tightly he must not be able to feel it. "You can't die! Damn it, Dominic."

But the blood keeps going, and his breath goes in rasps. He is choking, he is dying, he can't be dying . . .

The stars shine above us, unconcerned.

"I'll be okay," Dominic says softly, so low I can barely hear. "Just―do―one last thing . . ."

"Anything," I say, unable to stop the flow of tears. "Anything, please, anything."

His hand squeezes mine.

And then it goes limp.

I feel the exact moment he dies, because his fingers unclench around mine, and his breath heaves out: one final gasp, one final sigh.

Just like that, his eyes are glossy, unseeing.

The stars are reflected in his eyes. And I can't help but think, He will never see them again.

>>>

Letting you know I cried writing this. I think I'm too emotionally attached to my own fictional characters.