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The rush of air past their ears. The tugging of gravity at their stomach. And the pain. The throbbing, never-ending pain that caused the edges of their consciousness to go hazy, their vision fading in and out of a sea of black.

They were falling. To any demon on the ground, they probably looked like a shooting star, a streak of gold following them against the blood-red sky.

Why me?
The one question circling around their mind, never-ending.
Why why why why why why why?
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Everything hurts.

The ground was growing nearer. They were still gazing longingly up at the clouds.

What did I do wrong? Why me? What am I supposed to do now? I can't survive here. They can't do this to me. I can't-

More pain. A ringing in their head.

Oh, look at that. They've stopped falling.

They gave in to the pull of the forgiving darkness.

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Voices. Three of them.

"How long do you think they've been here?"

"We'd...better get them in the hotel. It looks like they've lost a lot of blood. At least...I think that's blood?"

"That's definitely blood, Charlie. Here, let me..."

They were being moved. The concrete that had been digging into their injured back was less of a problem as they were lifted up. Red, so much red. But, strangely, there was also...white. White, like a blanket of snow. Like the clouds in Heaven.

"Careful, Dad, they sound like they're in pain..."

"Oh, are they awake?"

"Not entirely, sir."

More talking, but they were too out of it to comprehend anything. There was an odd noise, like a knife through paper, and a flash of golden light. A minute later, there was a shift in the air, the toxic and smoky air that had been assaulting their lungs being replaced with something warmer, cozier, almost pleasant.
More voices.

"Holy shit..."

"I'm too sober for this."

"Stab! Stab!"

"Niffty, no!"

"We need to get them up to one of the empty rooms. Alastor, could you maybe... Wait, where is Alastor?"

"Dunno. Said he had an errand to run. I bet he's hooking up with that pretty cannibal..."

The voices were drowned out, faded, like the people speaking had suddenly gone underwater.
Or maybe I'm underwater...?

Movement. They were being moved. Red, pink, gold, blurry colors fading in and out of their vision. Something soft but firm enveloping their body. Warmth.

And the darkness again.

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Word Count: 470

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