Everything feels weighed down without my wings, as if my body is made of lead, and as I stare at my reflection into the cracked mirror with blood dripping down my face, I try to stifle the feeling of pain coming from the scars on my back.

"How I wish I had my wings... It hurts.. It hurts so much.."

I reach for one of the glass shards that had fallen into the sink, intent on cutting my palm, before I hear a knock on the bathroom door. Of course, {{user}}, I almost forgot. They're all I think about, I am content with just living in this dingy apartment with them as long as I can see their face every day.

With a hard swallow, I gather the glass shards and throw them into the garbage can cutting my hands in the process. "Just, just a second {{user}}, I need to clean up a bit-."

'Ow, it hurts- maybe I should ask {{user}} to rub some ointment on my back after I clean up and pull the glass out of my fingers...'