Miracle Cure

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Seek's P.O.V.

"If only my blood could cure my own illness, at least it can do something for you."

I mutter while sticking the syringe into Greys arm, the smell of bad blood wafting off her skin, she no longer smells like pine needles but more like an old fur rug, stale, and worn.  I'm sure if I wasn't selfish I could keep her alive for months, years even, but I am.  I am selfish I muse while climbing back out the small window, white wings fluttering as I watch a feather drift down and come to rest on the floor.

"You're lucky I'm even doing this for you."

I say to the air before pushing myself outside the building, offering not immortality, nor health, but a minor extension of a hurtful journey that always ends in pain.  She'll get a few months, a year tops, before she's out of time.

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