Help, I've fallen and I cannot get up!!

Fallen.

We fell, fell from the sky. We were thrown, actually. Maybe we screamed. I don't know if he screamed, of course - I wasn't with him. I don't know if I screamed, if I cried for help or just accepted my destiny in silence. I honestly don't remember anything, but falling. Bursting through clouds, water drops slamming into my face, onto my skin, like needles. Falling.

Sand between my fingers. It doesn't feel like it used to do - this is different. Is the sand different or is it just me? I don't know, honestly. My back is hurting, I can feel air sneaking down in the gaps where my wings are supposed to be. They took them away from me, ripped them from my body and threw me away. And if my brother could have been spared, then I would've been okay with this destiny. I would do anything to save my brother - he's my everything. But they didn't. No, they did the opposite. They chained him, pinned him down on his stomach and ripped his wings off.

We don't usually hurt. Earthly things don't affect us that much. Sure, we bleed, and yes, sometimes we get hurt badly. But we heal, and we cannot "die". We're not that kind of angels that once were human, no. We're the immortal kind. Or well, we were.

But, having your wings torn off, that's hurtful. It feels like someone opens your chest and takes your heart out whilst your still alive, still breathing and fully awake. They made me watch when they did this to my brother, my life. In many ways, that was more hurtful than it was being exposed to the same thing.

I've got sand in my face. It's in my mouth, in my hair. It's itchy. I push myself up, standing on my knees, looking around. I've been on the Earth before, actually. So has my brother. But this, this is different. This time, we're not here as angels on a trip, or on a mission. We're not angels at all. We're almost human.

I see him standing with water to his ankles, starring out over the ocean. Now I know how my back looks. The blood in his wounds has nearly coagulated. Nearly. I can see strings of red, even from this distance. I know how it must've hurt. I imagine that it had hurt him more; he's always been so proud of his wings. I don't know if I've ever met an angel who has taken so good care of his feathers. He told me that he felt chosen, that God chose the souls that deserved to be angels sometime in the beginning of life and time. And he was so proud, because we had been chosen. Now were thrown out, torn down, humanized.

I'm on my feet not, walking towards him. The pain is killing me, but he is more important than anything I could possibly feel. I trip in the warm sand, falling down on my knees again. Pain ripping my body in two, I can't breathe. Maybe I scream. Maybe I don't. Either way, he turns around, starring at me as if he just can't believe I'm here. As if he doesn't want me here. And then he smiles, the most relived smile I've ever seen. He walks over to me, limping slightly. I know that it hurts; I feel the same pain as I force myself up.

His arms around me, mine around him. He smells of home, sand and salt water. There's sand in his wound.

"It hurts." He whispers in my ear, tears dripping down his face.

"I know, I know." I think I'm crying too. I guess I am.

"What did we do wrong?"

"I don't know, I really don't know." I tell him the truth, because I honestly don't. We didn't do anything. We weren't mean. We've never hurt anyone. We've just tried to make everyone happy. "I guess you just can't please everybody."

"What should we do?" He's sobbing now, a bit calmer. At least that what I hope. I hate it when he cries. I want him to be happy, smiling, laughing.

"First, let's find some clean water to wash your back. You've got sand all over the place. We'll solve this. We can do anything, remember?"

He's nodding. I take his hand in mine, squeezing it tight. And we walk. We walk away from were heaven threw us, left us. We're going to make the best out of this. We're not going to let them win. We're the winners. Somehow, we'll always be the winners.