1 Prologue.

Some people think that angels are higher beings created by God to protect people. Others believe that these are the souls of our ancestors that support and follow us. But what if both beliefs are wrong?

"Kate, don't do this!"

My hand trembled for a moment when I heard him scream. I heard him moan in pain, gritting his teeth until he gnashed. I could smell his burnt skin. I so wanted to turn around and take one last look into his eyes.

My beautiful angel.

"Kate, I pray you put the gun down. Don't do this," he croaked.

I bit my lips, drowning out the sob of despair that was breaking out. It had already risen to the eyes and flowed down the cheeks with tears.

"Why are you hesitating, Kate? Just one quick move and - Bam! - it's all over. Isn't that what you wanted so much?"

An insinuating voice penetrated my skin. It calmed, lulled, like thin threads of a cobweb that enveloped a naive butterfly, plunging it into a sleep from which you cannot wake up.

"Do not move!" I tightened my grip on the gun and pointed it at the man. He chuckled.

It is a pity that such a beautiful face went to such a disgusting person. The pain of betrayal stung my heart, although I already thought that there was nothing left that could hurt.

"Hey, I just want to help. Turn around and look at your angel," at these words the man laughed, "Look how nicely his wings are melting. Isn't it a great sight? This black resin works great for him. Doesn't your angel love black?"

"Shut up!" I wiped away the tears with my free hand. Moisture covered my eyes, blurring the image of the one to whom I wished death.

God, forgive me, but I so wish that this person did not exist!

He took a step forward, I took a step back.

"Shoot," he ordered.

"Kate…," a hoarse moan behind my back was barely audible. "Do not do this. You are not like that."

"Of course she's not like that!" laughed the man at whom my pistol was pointed. "They are all different. But why are you dying now, hah, Angel? Maybe it's time to admit that she is a killer like everyone else!" he shouted.

I saw hatred in his eyes. Consuming hatred and pain.

He grinned bitterly and spread his arms to the sides, completely opening up to me, "Well, Kate Wilson. How does it feel to live knowing that you are a murderer?"

Killer.

How does it feel to live knowing that you are a killer?

Wake up in the morning to your favorite music, which is on the alarm clock on your mobile phone. There is freshly prepared food because yesterday's food is no longer tasty.

Walk, chat with friends, family. Enjoy life without noticing what is happening around.

Not noticing what you are actually doing...

My finger was on the trigger.

I used to be like that too. I thought I was a good person...

A short breath.

We all think so. I thought the same.

Until I met him...

BANG!