The rain won’t stop.

All our clothes are soaked.

Why is it raining?

Why is it raining this much? It is the middle of heat season and we are deep in the Sonogyrian Desert.

My vision is dull and I feel hot. The hysterical boy is panting. He has been running nonstop, carrying me, for a couple of hours now. Heavy clouds still hang over us, thunder can still be heard in the distance.

I want to stop. I feel sick.

“Stop…” I pull on the hysterical boy’s dressing, but he doesn’t hear.

My throat is lumpy and my nostrils burn. The rain keeps hitting my face and making my hair stick to my face. I want to stop.

“Stop…” I wriggle in his arms; he tightens his grip on me.

It hurts.

The little girl stops her pace when she notices me turn limp. The silent boy is soon to notice as well. He pulls the hysterical boy to a halt. They approach me and attempt to lift me from the boy’s arms. The boy is reluctant but relents when his rigid arms give out.

They place me on the ground.

The little girl gasps and quickly moves away and so does the silent boy.

The hysterical boy widens his eyes and moves closer. He tilts my head.

Pain radiates down my neck and back. A plump, boisterous vein the size of my fist splits the lower half of my cheek down towards the back of my neck. The vein thumps and seems to stretch into me.

“No!” the hysterical boy starts to sob and pats my head.

“Don’t touch her!” the silent boy pulls the hysterical boy away.

The hysterical boy smacks the silent boy’s arm aside.

“She might infect you with what she has!” the silent boy hisses.

“Let’s help her!” the hysterical boy cries.

“How?! Do you not see where we are?! Our situation?!” the silent boy grimaces whilst looking at me, “That thing coming out of her neck…” he grabs onto the hysterical boy as he trails off. He inspects him, head to toe, then sighs in relief.

“She’s dying,” the little girl says. She stands next to the hysterical boy and motions him to continue on.

The hysterical boy smacks them both away.

“Go!” he shouts, “I won’t leave her!”

He slouches back to me and sits down, leaning in, attempting to shield me from the rain.

Both the little girl and silent boy, frown. They look at each other and turn. They continue on without us.

The hysterical boy starts sobbing. His tears fall on my face. I’m breathing heavily.

I want the sun.

My head feels so heavy.

“What do I do?” the boy cries, “What do I do?” he looks at me, “What do I do?”

I don’t know. Why are you asking me?

I want the sun. Can you do that?

“I want the sun,” I tell him, “My angel…”