There I was, standing in the middle of that road. Standing there. Dripping wet from the rain.

I looked down at my hands. My hands.

Covered in blood.

The first thought that came to my mind was Where in the hell did this come from? Then it hit me. The light that flashed through my brain with its intense burning heat. I couldn't see. Surrounded by blackness I cried out for help. And the angels started singing.

I told Harry about this as he stared at me from across the table of the corner coffee shop we frequent.

"David, have you told anyone else about this?"

"No...I haven't," I said. I looked down at the red checkered table cloth and a small grin passed across my face.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing too important to even bring up at a time like this. I feel detached."

Harry laughed.

At that moment my head started pounding. I had to close my eyes. The light was blinding me. And the angels, they started singing.

The next thing I knew, Harry was lying on the ground and he had a fork sticking out from his eye. There was blood everywhere. Two waitresses were by his side and someone was holding me from behind. I looked down at my hands.

Covered in blood.

The cops rushed into the coffee shop. I tried to break free but the man behind me was extremely strong. The next thing I knew, one of the cops rushed up to me and replaced the man behind me.

And my head, it started pounding again.

And there I was, standing in the middle of that road. Standing there. Dripping wet from the rain. My hands covered in blood. I didn't know where I was. I didn't want to know where I was.

I started to run. Blindly.

The night came fast and I found myself sleeping under a bridge. Shielding myself from the night sky and the showers above me.

My hands rusted.

Inside my dream the angels were singing so sweetly to me. And the lights. So soft and comfortable. Warmth covering my body and warming my blood gone cold.

And my hands.

I looked at my hands. Chains wrapped around them and bolted to a wall. Cold concrete. And the blood. Running down the wall with pieces of hair and bone.

And the angels singing, and the light. Blinding my eyes. And my hands.

10/16/2001

Posted on 10/16/2001
Copyright © 2025 Stephanie Myers