Cranberry stepped through the darkness, pushing her way past bushes and shrubs. It was a fake.
She saw it lying there on the ground, the smell of blood coming off of it. False.
The legs looked just like hers, the skirt too. Facsimile.
It looked like her, but it wasn't. There was no way it was real. The torso and arms and head were missing. A copy.
There was no way to prove it was her, and therefore it could not be her. Doppelganger.
The ground was covered in blood where half a person should have been. No...
Cranberry remembered the pain. Next she remembered the feeling of her body tearing apart. She remembered turning into a shower of gore.
So was she the fake?
"You don't have to worry anymore."
Cranberry looked behind her, up in the sky. A bright light. In the light, there was a figure, reaching out a hand to her. Quietly, Cranberry reached up for the angelic figure.
"No more despair. You can rest now."
The world was turning hazy. Cranberry felt the angel's hand in hers. It was warm. She felt safe. She was going home.