Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick Official

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.

"You wrote this," he said. "Before they took your memory. Before they tried to unmake us."

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. Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick

"Do I know you?" I asked, my voice a stranger's.

"Angel," he said, the word scraping out of a throat full of broken glass.

"Who are you?"

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

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 didn't know him. But my soul did.

His name was a hole in my chest.

Patch.

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. Even if it killed me

And when his cold fingers brushed mine, the whisper grew louder. Not in my ears—in my blood. A name. A promise. A silence finally breaking.