Chapter Four

[ang_the_adverse]

Title: A Time For Us

Pain.

I’m still in so much pain.

Death isn’t meant to bring pain.

It’s meant to bring peace.

But the men, oh those men, with their ropes and sticks are heading towards me.

The first blow.

And I scream.

And take in a breath.

Breathing?

I shouldn’t be breathing.

Not in… death.

So, illogically as it appears, I cannot be dead.

And I hear my heartbeat. Extraordinary loud.

It’s everywhere.

It’s so loud.

Almost as if it is proud.

Proud that this werewolf survived.

I know I’m illogical. It’s a heartbeat, it’s inanimate.

I still haven’t opened my eyes.

I can’t believe that I’m alive.

It’s a trick of hell.

It must be.

For a werewolf like me must belong to hell. I am no angel. No Heaven is destined for me.

A killer.

But I’m moving.

I can hear, I can smell, I can feel.

Wheels, doors opening, the noise of a siren? An ambulance?

Tomatoes juices staining me. Fear. Palpable on the air. Even for me, with my human senses at the moment.

Fear for me?

Cold metal in my hand.

I can’t be in Hell, who’d take a tin opener to Hell?

Cold touch on my arm.

Mitchell?

I can’t hear voices.

More implications of voices.

There is lightness, Annie?

There is seriousness, paramedics? My own subconscious?

And then they is…

Darkness, darkness and truth.

Like whispered shadows on the breeze.

Ironically, the soft sound of Mitchell’s voice lulled me into peace.

Living peace.

And I breathe.


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