Monstrous

**Gore/Violence Warning**

You wheezed, sharp pain cutting into your side on each inhale and flecks of blood leaving your mouth as you exhaled. The pain that had been pulsing through you, radiating from the gunshot wound that still seeped blood as you ran, had dulled to a numb ache. As a matter of fact, everything was numb.
You could hear the footsteps behind you; the barking of dogs as if through a wall of water. Your vision blanked for a moment, and you only faintly registered the sound of the gun firing once more. You hardly felt the metal rip through you this time.

Blood bubbled up into your mouth, and you choked on a breath as you stumbled forward, landing heavily on your hands and knees. You could see the vivid red pooling below you, staining the leaf litter and dirt a startling scarlet. You felt a sinking in your stomach; a clenching in your chest as you struggled forward. Tears slipped down your face, but the blood filling your lungs prevented you from sobbing.
You were going to die here. Alone. Forgotten.
If you were lucky, your body would be spared the humiliation of being mounted on a wall or put on display in some twisted museum.
You'd already given up the hope of a quick and painless death.

Your vision darkened, and your eyelids fluttered as you finally collapsed, your wings giving out. Still, your hand extended, as if reaching for something. A second chance; a single thread of hope; the desperate grip of a dying man clinging to his last bit of life.
And you died.

No, that's not quite right.

You awoke in a dim room, the scent of old pages and leather surrounding you. How you had gotten there, you hadn't a clue. You had survived, by some miracle.
And it seemed your saviour had chosen the perfect time to walk through the door.

His hair was like soft spun gold, and his eyes shone like the flicker of a sinister green flame. His gaze was venom, and his smirk was a dagger. If looks could kill, you'd be dead all over again.