Fallen

Chapter 5. What lies beneath heaven [Michael]

Images of beasts with glowing eyes and sharp teeth flash before my eyes. There's a rattling of bony wings. Snarls hidden in sullen clouds. An outburst of wicked laughter.

There's yelling and pain. But I can't seem to understand where or why.

Suddenly I'm falling.

Sinking into the unknown abyss. There's utter and complete darkness all around. I'm losing myself. But who even am I?

I wake to a throbbing head.

I'm lying on something soft. I'm warm. Warmer than what I remember myself to be. I think. I'm not sure about anything anymore.

A thin sheet is thrown haphazardly over me. It barely covers my body, my wings.

I look around. I'm in a home, but nothing seems familiar. Not that I'd know if it is. The throbbing deepens whenever I try to remember something. Anything at this point.

It's at the tip of my fingertips. A picture in motion blurring in front of my eyes. Anything and everything I know I knew, gone. As if my memories are jumping over the edge of my mind. Into the deep end of a pool of oblivion.

I feel like the pool is growing bigger, taking so much more with it. And unstable barriers have been put up to save the rest.

Fear strikes me.

I need to remember who I am and what I did. What I might do.

I push myself up on trembling arms.

My body responds with a horrible pang. Pain explodes from all across.

I can barely move.

My breath is shallow when I ultimately achieve something as simple as sitting up. I clench my hands into the tight material under my hands. As if I could squeeze it enough, the pain would diminish.

I look up. Everything is moving in loops. Dancing across my vision. Daring to not stand still for even a moment.

That is until someone walks into my vision. Forcing things to quiet down. Urging me to focus.

A slender figure walks closer with careful steps as if nearing a wounded animal.

The closer they get, the better I can see them.

A young man. Baby blue eyes wide and timid.

He's speaking. Saying something I can't quite grasp yet. There's still a ringing in my ears.

His cold hand touches the side of my arm.

I wince, quivering like a leaf. Even with the slightest of movements. The sparsest of touch. Pain still sears.

He jumps too and withdraws his hand.

An apology falls from his pink lips. I hear it clear as day. His voice, a silvery tone.

He kneels in front of me. Damp curls fall down his eyes. He swipes them away with a huff of breath. Then he points to a red bag on the table.

"You're hurt," He points out. I'd roll my eyes if it didn't hurt as much as it does.

He points to his forehead. "Let me help you," He urges.

He turns around and unzips the bag. The content falls out onto the table with a few clicks and soft clanks. He rips open a package of some sort.

When he turns around to meet my face again. I notice his eyes are puffy, darkish circles are forming around his eyes.

"This is gonna sting a bit," He reaches forward with a cotton swap in hand.

It stings, and I hiss when the paper touches my skin above my eyebrow.

He tugs at his bottom lip with his front teeth, showing his uncertainty. His eyes are big, lashes like black spider legs.

He's close. I can see the detail on his skin. It's fair, hiding beneath a thin layer of mud and dirt. There's a little beauty mark on the apple of his right cheek.

I lick my lips. The stinging is turning into a dull throb.

His eyes fall down to my mouth. He sits back, catching himself in the moment and withdrawing his hand.

"I don't usually do this-" He points to himself as he takes out another small piece of paper. A sand-like color. It sticks to my cut when he places it. I reach a careful hand up to touch it.

A shaky chuckle leaves his lips.

"-Not the first aid thing. I've fallen enough times to know how to disinfect scrapes and cuts and to put plasters on them," A shaky hand sweeps through his mousy curls as he looks up at me with uneasy eyes. "I don't usually help strangers who magically crashland in my backyard, bruised and bloodied."

He pauses.

"Especially not strange men with wings," He adds, pointing to me with a lazy hand.

There's tension rising in the room. An awkward silence overcomes the hammering rain outside.

"Who are you? What's your name?"

There's a name hanging on the tip of my tongue. Something I can't quite grasp. Not yet.

I make a sound, trying to get the name out. M... something.

"You don't remember your name?" He makes a face.

I don't want to answer.

He could use it against me. Maybe he's the one who did this to me. Made me forget. But would he have given me shelter if that were the case. Using his 'first aid thing' to make me feel better.

I shake my head as a reply. "I don't know," I say. My voice is hoarse, uneven. It tingles in the back of my throat.

He bops his head. A thoughtful frown engraving itself on his boyish face.

"You say something starting with M, right?" He points out.

I nod. That's what I believe.

"Then I'll call you, M, for now." He gives me a shy smile. "Hopefully, you'll remember in a few hours."

His words are hopeful. But it doesn't worry me any less.

I still don't know who I am. What I did. Why I'm here. Hurt and with a massive gap in my memories.

I can't shake the feeling that something horrible is on its way. Shifting through the shadows. Searching for something, for me?

I have so many questions. And I fear I might not get answers to them all. At least not anytime soon.