***** DAY 35 ******
There is a cloud of smoke that’s taking a human shape. It has tinges of red, and blood drips on the ground where it hovers. It comes closer, but this time, I am not afraid. It extends its hand towards me, and I answer it. I reach out to it, and the instant our hand touches, the wind blows from behind me and into the specter—blowing the smoke that clings to it from the very first time it made its appearance.
And now, I see what it is. It was me, the eight-year-old child who thought she knew everything just because she was a little smarter and stronger than all her peers. She’s staring at me curiously and I stare back. Her black, straight hair is flowing behind her. Now, I understand why I was called the Bloody Angel. Her white shirt and pants are covered in blood and d
