Ironic how they say 'Rest in peace' to those who are dying, and how it's abbreviated version is R.IP. which is read as 'rip' which is what is about to happen to you. You will surely not rest in peace though.

     When angels are babies they never know their real parents, they are assigned to a family that will raise them well. You remember being a small girl, and your adoptive mother -who was a likable, playful woman- sat beside your bed and told you the story of the bad angel who commited a major sin and had his wings ripped off.

      It was then that you pinky promised to her that you'd never commit a sin so terrible as to have your wings endangered. Angels can commit sins, it is the law of free-will that God gave angels, but only the sins like letting a nice married couple with three sons at home die when you could've easily done something to help them give you this fate.

      It was a long walk down the hall. Everything in the palace was made for a purpose, and this hall was made for only for those who are about to meet their sinful fate. The hall was made so long for a reason, so that those who are walking down it can reflect on what they did.

     You weren't going to turn into a human right away. You'd just be cast down onto the earth with no wings and no powers. You'd still be immortal for a little bit with no desires of lust or hunger or thirst. Eventually, after a few weeks upon the earth, you would start to slowly fade into humanity, ending up just like one of them. A hungry, imperfect human.

    It wouldn't be so bad, you thought to yourself, humans certainly look happy from your perch up in the clouds. Except for when they are waring, then humans look plain stupid. And when they are kidnapped by psychopaths that chop them up and eat them. They don't look so happy then.

    You were alone in the hall, fated to walk the hall of regrets -as some called it- alone. It was not marble like some imagine heaven to be, it could look like anything you wanted. If you wanted the hall to resemble the hall inside someone's home, then it would look as such. But now it looked like a famous church in France, one you loved visiting.

     There were times when an angel with ripped wings would be able to come back home, but that was rare. It was only when they fulfilled their hidden purpose. And it was called a hidden purpose for a reason.

     If one did find out what their hidden purpose was, then it would take great strength to fulfill it. Rare were those who had such strength.

     This was what you thought of when walking down the hall of regrets. The hall would never end until you finished your self meditation of the mind. There really was nothing to meditate about though, you knew. You had let two people die, leaving their three sons to live by themselves without parents, end of story.

     Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a simple white door that looked terribly out of place among the cracked walls imitating your beloved church. The door was on the wall to your left, and it resembled the kind of normal door a normal family would have in their normal home.
   
      It wasn't even that clean. There were black marks from the grease of hands pushing on it from many years of use. Around the silver handle it was especially dirty, a light brown staining it.

     You were unsure about this door. No one had told you what to do earlier, they just said 'walk' and pointed down the unending hallway. It was all very helpful.

     So with a hesitating hand, you reached out to the handle and grabbed it. The silver metal was cold in your palm, as if it had been resting inside a freezer for a year. The chill brought a sharp tingle up your arm and it travelled to your spine, making you shudder out a breathe.

     Your mind suddenly cleared of all racing thoughts of what the future would hold for you. It was as if someone had just dusted away the bouncing thoughts in a flash.

     With a twist of your wrist and hand, you turned the knob. A click sounded as the door fell away and back on it's hinges, your hand letting go of the silver handle as the white door retreated.

      Inside the room was a simple wooden chair, the kind one would see at a dining table. It was odd the see in the empty room with no windows. There is sat, alone in the middle of the room, looking lonely as if to say 'sit in me'.

     So you did just that.

     And regretted it immediately.