I remember the tile on the floor. It was white with a hint of grey, the pattern was like an angel's wing. If I half closed my eyes I could even see the angel, and imagine him as my protector, my avenger.
What would it feel like to be safe? I wondered. What if I were enfolded in an angel's wings and shielded from harm?
I couldn't imagine that, to be honest. My mind wandered. I could lose myself in the depths of my imagination. I saw myself living someone else's life. Happy. Vital. Glowing. Proud.
But the angel somehow came back to me. What would his name be? I wondered. The great archangels all had solid names. Gabriel. Michael. Uriel. But if we all had one looking after us, it wouldn't be one of those. Could an angel be called Doris? Or Mandy? Or Alfie?
I smiled to myself as I imagined my angel being called Dolly. I could see her (or him?) in front of me, wings outstretched. Dolly would keep me safe. Dolly would protect me.
I lay on the cold bathroom floor, a drop of my blood on the tile beside me.
Help me now please, Dolly
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