The Fallen One

Part 1

I can't breathe. Thick black smoke swirls around me, and the room grows warm. Orange and yellow tongues of fire lick at the wooden walls. I collapse to the floor, the smoke rich in my lungs. I lift my head to look at the unconscious body in front of me and outstretch my arm.

"Daniel," I croak, my voice barely audible above the cackling flames. My fingernails scratch at the blackening floorboards as I reach for him.

I am limp: my body a piece of meat in a sweltering oven. My eyes water from the itching smoke. My eyelids become heavy and I breathe in the bitter fumes, succumbing to the overwhelming darkness.

I feel the grass tickling my ears as I soak in the sunlight. A dark shape crosses the sky and I sit up quickly. It's just an eagle I think, but the shape swoops over again; its figure casting a much bigger shadow than an eagle. I hear a thud behind me, and swivel to face what's landed. A shirtless man kneels down in the grass. His tight black jeans mould onto to his sculpted legs and a mop of jet-black hair shields his face. Behind him I glimpse two large silvery-grey wings. An angel. I reach out towards him, and he lifts his head, his emerald green eyes piercing me.

My body sinks into the thin mattress and I feel heavy. The unfamiliar smell of damp mossy stone fills my nostrils. My palms start to sweat. Where the fuck am I? The sheets are scratchy and thin. There's a cool draft trickling in from somewhere to my right, and there's no lingering smell of the dusty rose candle that sits on the top of my bookshelf. Holy fuck where have my parents put me this time?

My heart pounds and I open my eyes. In the tiny room are just two pieces of furniture: a thin wooden wardrobe and the rickety bed I'm lying on. I push myself up so I'm sitting and something glints in the corner of my eye. I turn my head towards the window and to my horror I see a set of metal bars encasing the opening.

What a shithole. I roll my eyes and throw my head back. Staring at the paint peeling from the ceiling, I hear the faint sound of voices chattering in the hallway, filtering through the gap beneath the door. Before I can grasp what they are saying a woman dressed in nineteen-forties nurse attire barges through the door.

"What the hell is this place?" I throw up my arms in exasperation.

No answer. Her face is stern, and her hands wrinkled with time. She grasps my face tightly, turning it from side to side examining me. Pulling out a small silver torch, she shines it directly in my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I say, blinking.

She doesn't answer again, but instead pulls open one eye, and then the other. I groan, pulling away from her grasp.

"Come with me." She walks swiftly to the door, waiting for me to follow.