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“It’s gone… Everything is gone!”
The angel looked upon him and felt no remorse. Even as his voice grew rough from screaming, even as he sobbed the names of the deceased, even as he fell to his knees in the midst of the rubble and cried, she felt nothing. For this was not an innocent man, and he deserved every gut-wrenching moment of this torture.
Clutched tightly in his glove was a singular flower. A daisy that he held close to his chest as it tore out his heart. It was yet another reminder of the fool he’d been.
The fog grasped him in its clutches as he mourned. It did not care to give him peace. He didn’t deserve peace. The many souls that weighed on his armored shoulders were proof of that.
She could see them, the souls, and they demanded revenge. Every slaughtered child. Every broken mother. The sick. The poor. The needy. They all chanted for his death.
He deserved so much worse.
The fog surrounded him, and he breathed it in, letting it fill his lungs. He felt almost comforted by its suffocating presence. But then it began to seep into his being, merging with his body until they were one.
The daisy fell to the ground as he gasped, clawing at his neck. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t scream. He could only panic as he felt the fog under his skin, turning it cold and numb. Then the world turned black.
When he awoke, there was no fog, only a lingering feeling, and a withering daisy at his feet.
He knew at once that he would not be allowed such a luxury as death.