Isn't it ironic that even here I cannot escape that which I most hoped to leave behind? I waited so long for death, it was to be my release; I dreamed I would rest forever after a long and bloody life. Instead I pay for my crimes in a way I never even considered. I used to call myself the Angel of Death in my mind, now I truly am.
I stare down at the little girl so small, delicate and beautiful as she fades farther from the living world. Her mother reaches out a hand to smooth the wispy blond hair back from the child's brow. A dark haired man, her father raps his arms around the mother trying to comfort her as silent tears slip down both their faces. I step closer the bed, the woman shivers and the man looks straight at me, it is unnerving, most cannot since my presence. I reach out to touch the frail girl child's cheek in a mocking parody of her mothers' gesture. She sighs the faint breath leaving pale pink lips and stills, the light dimming from her eyes. Her mother gives a stifled gasp and collapses, her father reaches out and gently closes her soft blue eyes.
Blinking the child stares at me from where she sits on the bed. "Are you an angel?" she asks me, the innocence of her spirit is a balm to my soul.
"Yes." I answer simply, holding out my hand for her to take. She glances at the body laying next to her than comes to me with the acceptance of one who stills knows her first world. She reaches up and I comply with her silent request, picking her up and cradling her in my arms. She weighs nothing as I hold her to my chest, but my heart almost gives under the burden. As I turn to go, the child stretches out a hand that still contains the chubbiness of the very young towards her mourning parents.
"I'll miss them." She murmurs. I nod, we both know there's nothing else to say. I hold her close, the room with her parents fading away as I drift out of the mortal world, it's time to take the child home. I'll never know her name.