A/N: Yes, another chapter (I passed up my beauty sleep for this one, so
you'd better review..the button, the little purple button, one click and a
few words is all it takes...please?) Hope you enjoy this one.
Ianua x
With one last scream of pain, Bethany woke herself up. Cold sweat drenched her, she was freezing, and as she awoke, pain slowly flooded her body. She looked down and saw why. Her pyjamas looked as though she'd been thrown into the cage of some wild animal. Torn and bloody, the remaining shreds did nothing to hide her wounds. Claw marks, some looking deep and messy covered her arms and chest. The deepest was a long slash across her stomach. She tried to lift her head, but fell back with a small cry of pain. What she had seen looked like something from a horror film. With difficulty, she turned her head to look at her left arm, and promptly fainted at what she saw.
***
"No, Azreal, Please no..."
The pitiful moans and whimpers of pain would stay with the Metatron until the end of his (probably eternal) life. He watched with a grave expression as the almighty, dressed top to toe in shocking pink, tended to Bethany's wounds. Bethany pleaded constantly with the Azreal in her nightmares, but to no avail, every plea was shortly followed by a flinch of pain. Under the hands of God, Bethany's open wounds became scars, and her scars became new skin. But somehow the feeling of doubt crept into the Metatron's head. Could her mind really be healed as easy as that?
"Stay with her" God whispered quietly "She'll be better with someone she knows" Before the Metatron could ask any questions, she was gone. He stood at the end of the bed, watching her sleep.
Bethany stirred in her bed. Memories of the past night came flooding back to her in a tidal wave of misery and pain. She'd almost lost her reason for living. The last, last scion. Was it still there? She felt, finding a little comfort in her still swollen belly. However, the memories of death and torture, those images of hell were still freshly burnt into her eyes and mind. Not noticing the Metatron, she softly began to cry into her pillow like a child, sobs of misery, confusion and fear catching in her throat.
The Metatron walked over quietly, sitting softly on the edge of the bed. Bethany jumped. He said nothing, simply offering her his open arms. She leaned into the offered warmth, and felt the embrace, and fresh tears fell down the angel's front. They took a long time to subside, but no explanations were asked for or given.
When tears finally did give way to silence, punctuated by the occasional sob, the angel took a tissue from his pocket and wiped her puffy, tear- stained face. "Now you've messed up ANOTHER one of my suits, you could at least tell me why you're crying" "It was...I....." she started "Nightmares?" "Yes...but I woke up...the blood, I thought she was dead" "Azreal?" He asked "He wanted to make me a queen, and when I wouldn't let him take her, they held me down and..." She broke into fresh sobs at the memory. "Shhhh...." He soothed, trying to hide his mounting anger at Azreal Nightmares like this didn't just pop into the mortal subconscious. Nor did wounds like the ones he has seen earlier just appear on the mortal body. Someone was behind this. He'd bet his own wings it was Azreal.
Ianua x
With one last scream of pain, Bethany woke herself up. Cold sweat drenched her, she was freezing, and as she awoke, pain slowly flooded her body. She looked down and saw why. Her pyjamas looked as though she'd been thrown into the cage of some wild animal. Torn and bloody, the remaining shreds did nothing to hide her wounds. Claw marks, some looking deep and messy covered her arms and chest. The deepest was a long slash across her stomach. She tried to lift her head, but fell back with a small cry of pain. What she had seen looked like something from a horror film. With difficulty, she turned her head to look at her left arm, and promptly fainted at what she saw.
***
"No, Azreal, Please no..."
The pitiful moans and whimpers of pain would stay with the Metatron until the end of his (probably eternal) life. He watched with a grave expression as the almighty, dressed top to toe in shocking pink, tended to Bethany's wounds. Bethany pleaded constantly with the Azreal in her nightmares, but to no avail, every plea was shortly followed by a flinch of pain. Under the hands of God, Bethany's open wounds became scars, and her scars became new skin. But somehow the feeling of doubt crept into the Metatron's head. Could her mind really be healed as easy as that?
"Stay with her" God whispered quietly "She'll be better with someone she knows" Before the Metatron could ask any questions, she was gone. He stood at the end of the bed, watching her sleep.
Bethany stirred in her bed. Memories of the past night came flooding back to her in a tidal wave of misery and pain. She'd almost lost her reason for living. The last, last scion. Was it still there? She felt, finding a little comfort in her still swollen belly. However, the memories of death and torture, those images of hell were still freshly burnt into her eyes and mind. Not noticing the Metatron, she softly began to cry into her pillow like a child, sobs of misery, confusion and fear catching in her throat.
The Metatron walked over quietly, sitting softly on the edge of the bed. Bethany jumped. He said nothing, simply offering her his open arms. She leaned into the offered warmth, and felt the embrace, and fresh tears fell down the angel's front. They took a long time to subside, but no explanations were asked for or given.
When tears finally did give way to silence, punctuated by the occasional sob, the angel took a tissue from his pocket and wiped her puffy, tear- stained face. "Now you've messed up ANOTHER one of my suits, you could at least tell me why you're crying" "It was...I....." she started "Nightmares?" "Yes...but I woke up...the blood, I thought she was dead" "Azreal?" He asked "He wanted to make me a queen, and when I wouldn't let him take her, they held me down and..." She broke into fresh sobs at the memory. "Shhhh...." He soothed, trying to hide his mounting anger at Azreal Nightmares like this didn't just pop into the mortal subconscious. Nor did wounds like the ones he has seen earlier just appear on the mortal body. Someone was behind this. He'd bet his own wings it was Azreal.