- Becca Fitzpatrick | Fisilti

Even if it killed me. Would you like a short poem or a character monologue in the same style?

I had chosen him once. I would choose him again. Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick

I stopped. The air turned electric. Every cell in my body screamed run , but my feet betrayed me, stepping closer. Even if it killed me

He stepped into a shaft of moonlight, and I saw them—shadows moving under his skin, the faint, terrible beauty of something not human. A fallen angel. My guardian. My damnation. I would choose him again

I'd trace the ghost of a wing on my shoulder blade, feel the phantom press of lips on my forehead, and my heart would race—not with fear, but with a grief so ancient it felt like a second skeleton. My mother watched me with careful eyes. My best friend, Vee, filled the silence with chatter, hoping to drown out the questions I couldn't voice.

The rain fell in soft, relentless whispers over Coldwater, each drop a needle stitching me back into a life I couldn't remember. They said I fell. They said I was lost for eleven weeks. But when I opened my eyes in that hospital bed, the only thing missing was him.