Part 8 : Death that Lives

I didn't do it! I. . I couldn't have! I. .

"I did it" it feels like years since I've used my voice. As I look at my hands, full of blood, then the knife I used. Not too far from where I am sitting, his body. 

The sounds of sirens near while I remain still. My wings feel heavy, like metal sewn on my back.

Although there is no rain, dark grey clouds fly over us. They're crying now. I can hear the youngest asking why I killed him. I want to answer her saying "I don't know." I can't bring myself to move though, at least while the cops weren't here. 

The sirens are louder now. They can't find me. It would be hard to explain. Even with my wings, as heavy as they are, I take my knife and fly off. I think they see me. I must go higher. But it hurts. I feel as if I am falling. Even though I remain in the air. Flapping. It hurts. I want to land but it is not safe. Finally above clouds. They won't find me. . at least, I hope they won't. But I mustn't dwell on that now. I must work on healing myself, even if it leaves a scar.