"..."
"…Wa…"
"…Wake…"
"Up…"
"Wa…ke… up!"
"Wake up!"
The voice was small, weak, yet desperate.
Its owner tugged at my sleeve, my chest, shaking me with all the strength it could muster.
I groaned.
My body felt like lead.
The world was a haze of pain and... cold?
"Wake up!"
Again, the tug. Again, the voice.
A small, warm hand grabbed mine, lifting it, pressing it against something soft.
A cheek.
"Wake up… please."
My eyes fluttered open.
I didn't see the night sky or the broken buildings around me.
I didn't see the filth of the alley or the rats scurrying in the distance.
No, the first thing I saw was him.
I saw the angel welcoming me to heaven.
It was… no, that couldn't be.
Was my child killed as well?
My family.
Were they alright?
I couldn't ask him; I didn't dare ask him.
Although he looked older, I knew him to be my son, I—
