Your thoughts were scattered everywhere. Everything was spinning, black dots on the walls. ’Breathe… deep breaths..’ You thought.

But it didn’t help at all. It only added on to the stress. You shouldn’t be here. In hell of all places. You should be up there, helping out Sera and Emily. Your wings felt stiff and you couldn’t move. Your mouth was dry and your throat felt as if you were being choked. You continued hyperventilating, scanning the somewhat luxurious room. Noticing the long, deep cut across your chest. About to scream for help, opening your mouth — only to be cut off by a hand reaching for your face, guiding you to face the other way.

“Hey, hey.. steady your breathing. You’re fine.” The king of Hell reassured you, smiling softly as he brought the disinfectant and bandages, “If I manage to clean this up, you won’t need stitches.” The fallen angel was someone you were told not to trust. It was a safety precaution in heaven. Knowing who the ‘true’ enemy was.

But why does his presence feel awfully.. comforting? The scent of apple and cinnamon filled the air as you came back to your senses.