Into The Light

I was shot.

My hand felt like it was on fire. Soaring through the air, the winter air seemed to help it.

But it still hurts.

I was biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t let him know how much pain I was in. It was pain I could bare.

We broke from the clouds as he descended toward the forest. My hand seemed to be going numb, but the pain was still fresh.

As we landed, I knew what was going to happen next.

He would take it out.

Sew me back up.

Just like I did to him.

“I need to get the bullet out for you.” Was all he said, but I knew the pain I was about to go through. He had a resistance.

I didn’t.

“You’re going to dig it out of me with your claws.” I said, speaking my throughts, in more of a whisper.

He looked down and pulled out the miniature sewing kit. That needle and thread was going through my hand.

My bullet filled hand.

“It’s that or get infected and die of blood poisoning from the lead.” I sighed once he said that, still fighting back tears.

I was going to be in pain anymore and even more then I am now.

“Do what you need to.” I said, squeezing my eyes tight.

I felt his maneuver him and I to a comfortable position.

“Ready?” He asked, as I braced myself for pain.

“No.” I whispered, wanting to cry.
“Sorry then.” He said, as he began to dig out the bullet from my small hand.

Right away, I let out a scream, before clamping my lips shut.

Have you ever had a shot, which made your arm go numb?

Ya, it’s nothing like that.

It was a mix between getting stung by bees and breaking your arm.

All while getting something moved around inside you.

I peeked open just to see the bullet surfacing. It was big.

Very very big.

It was about the size of two grown mans thumbs.

As he picked it out, my hand felt a bit lighter and the pain succeeded alittle but it was still very much there.

I felt the needle slide through my skin. This is the spot where it feels like a shot.

Except it’s about ten times worse.

Soon, the needle stopped sliding through my skin, as he put it back in the kit.

He pulled me onto his lap repeating the same words. “I’m so so sorry.” He said, as I wrapped my face by his neck.

The stars in the sky were glistening as I began to count the nights we’ve spent running from the same enemies.

The once that were supposed to be helping us.

Soon enough, I drifted off to a sound sleep.

Wind ripped my hair around, some sticking to my head. I don’t know why it was sticking.

I lifted my hand up as I felt something wet. My heart beat picked up as I put it back down to my eyes.

It was red.

“Come here, Willy.” His voice echoed. I looked down to see myself in the same six year old clothes.

Torn. Not from age.

From him.

I began to run as fast as I could on my child legs.

I just reached the door as I fell. The back of my head stinging.

Turning around, I saw my father, the large man with a shaven face and a balding head.

A crazy smile on his face told me I didn’t just fall. My eyes followed to his hands, which were holding a small metal chair.

I began to crawl into my old bedroom. The blood dripping down my head, I reached the handle, letting the door slide open.

The smell of death filled my nose as I found feathers decorating the ground. Hung by what was left of his bloodied and cut wings, Aaron stood there.

Dead.

Twirling around, I looked just in time to see my father slam the chair down, seconds away from hitting Ava.

My world turned black.

“Willow….Willow…Willow sweetie.” I felt a mans hand rub my arm. The voice seemed to belong to my father.

“Willow…wake up.” I heard as the voice began to sound like Aarons.

A kiss on my cheek.

A rub on my arm.

I was six again.

And not quite strong enough.