A Toy With Wings

Eighteen and A Half

(Jezebel Chesterfield POV)

"Time," I call out to Amber as we get ready for our final battle. We are mere angels. We're not the immortal kind. We don't live in heaven. And we are fated to fall in this battle.

No words can sufficiently show how scared I am right now.

"Coward," I mutter softly to myself, smacking myself on the forehead.

"What?" asks Amber.

"Nothing," I answer quickly.

"Jezebel Chesterfield, I know something's up with you," Amber pouts. "Confess."

"Or else what?" I ask. "We're dying today anyway."

She's silent as she searches for a reply. "Don't leave my side."

"I promise I won't."

It takes me about an hour to get ready, which is saying something, since I'm normally very sloppy. I decide to keep my hair my regular blonde, because I want everybody to see another side of me. My hands shake as I grasp my hairbrush. I can't concentrate on anything.

Dying. What would it be like, when the light goes out in my eyes? Will my spirit leave me? Will my world become pitch-black, or will I be fully conscious as the grim reaper takes me to what comes after life?

I'm a punk, and proud. But where has that gotten me? I'm not like those emo kids (God, we get mixed up so much). I'm not suicidal. Yet I volunteered for Orson, a boy I didn't even like.

I stand up and reach into my pocket to check if I have my spare knife in my pocket, and a swatch of cloth falls out.

Oh, shit, I think as Amber scoops the thing up.

"You still keep it?" asks Amber.

"Yes, I do."

"I'll wear it when I fight," she says. "If that's okay with you."

I smile at Amber. "Never been happier. Come on, we have to be prepared."

And now I am here, a few hours later. Amber was hurt. Badly. Her face, crumbling as she begs me to kill her to end her pain, haunts me. I can't do it. I can't bring myself to hurt her.

"Please, Jezebel. Do it if you love me."

I sigh. "I'm sorry."

I don't want to do this. With a heavy heart, I grab the sword from Amber and slit her throat. Tears are pouring down my cheeks now, and fuck, I'm crying.

This is no way for a hero to go down, I scold myself, drowning in a pool of their own tears.

"I'm sorry," I tell Amber again.

"You don't have to apologize," Amber smiles at me, as she tries to weakly fend off a monster. "I love you, alright?"

"I love you too, Amber."

I hold her in my arms as her shallow breathing goes silently still.

I try to brush away a few tears. I'm dying tonight, I remind myself. I'm joining Amber tonight.

Spotting a shield on the floor, I pick it up and throw it across the room. It misses my target, the activate button, by a few inches, but I strip off my boot and try again. This time, the boot hits the button, and the room starts filling with quicksand.

I don't want to die slowly by drowning in quicksand. I spear myself through the heart, and grab Amber's hand.

I lie down next to her. I'm too tired and weak to go anywhere else. My eyelids feel as heavy as lead, as the life drains out of me. I close my eyes, trying to convince myself that I'm not going to die, I'm just in for a long, long sleep. I rest one hand on the handle of my spear, and the other strokes Amber's ring.

Finally, the pain melts away, just like snow, and I feel myself being lifted into the air.