The wind was crisp and sharp, whipping across Abigail's swollen cheek. Grabbing her hood, she pulled it to protect her face as she made her way home. The sun was starting to rise as she hurried through the winding cobble-stone path that would lead her away from the past. The street was hollow, there were no lights gleaming from the windows that surrounded her on either side. She was alone, and it was dark.

Desperate to get as far away from her mother's home, Abigail began to run. Her bare feet slammed against the pavement, pebbles cutting the soles as she continued. She quickened her pace as she shifted her eyes, catching a glimpse of street lights just around the corner. She took one last look behind her – and everything went black.

Jonathan slammed on his breaks at the last minute as he saw a shadowed figure sprinting down the centre of the street. The pavement was damp; his breaks locked up and only stopped when the figure slammed into his windshield. The glass shattered onto his lap, cutting open his hands that were gripping the steering wheel and turning his knuckles white. Jonathan's heart raced as he stared at the back of the stranger. Panicking, he reached for his phone in the centre console and got out of the car. Slowly creeping towards the hood, Jonathan observed the young woman that lay limp across the glass.

Her face was covered by thick brown hair and a sweater's hood. He reached out a trembling hand to move the cloth and curls hiding her eyes, but shuddered away as he saw the damage her body bared. Thick, deep slashes covered her forehead. Her cheek was twice the size of the other, and already beginning to bruise. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, but showed a soft pink hue beneath the destruction. Turning his back from the wreck, Jonathan put the phone to his ear and called for help.

Abigail awoke her body sore everywhere. She pulled herself up, glass crunching beneath her hands with every move. Ahead in the shadows, she saw a slim figure leaning against a brick wall. Slender fingers nervously ran through a black shag, speaking in low whispers into a phone.

He turned his body, making brief eye contact with Abigail. Jonathan immediately dropped his phone, his lips parting slightly at the vision in front of him.

Abigail's pain began to disappear. She looked around beginning to observe the damage on her body, wondering how she could possibly still be on Earth. She reached up feeling her once swollen cheek to be normal again, swiping her hand across her forehead the blood that earlier ran down her skin was gone as well. Her fingers traced delicately down her arms, watching the purple bruises slowly fade away under her touch.

As her toes touched the ground, ink-black chiffon fell across her ankles. Tulle sat beneath the fabric, widening the body of the dress around her legs. A corset tightened around her fragile ribs, repositioning her spine and forcing her chest outwards. A smile widened as Abigail admired her new appearance, a beauty she never knew.

But without warning, Abby heard the ripping of fabric behind her back. A scream of agony escaped her throat, falling to her knees as her shoulder blades her heart racing every moment.

"What's happening to me?" Abigail screamed toward the stranger, who stared back at her in disbelief. Her pain stopped and her breathing slowly returned, placing her hand over her heart which had calmed down too. Abigail peeked over her shoulder to find extraordinary black wings staring back at her. They stretched above her head, over the back of her thighs and embraced her in a tight clasp.

"What the hell are these? Wings! What am I?!" Abigail's eyes burned golden yellow, glaring towards the stranger. This is his fault!

Jonathan took a couple, slow steps towards the magnificent creature before him. Raising his hands in surrender, he said "Look, uhm, I don't know what the heck you are but please don't hurt me. I'm calling an ambulance for you right now, okay? So just stay calm and don't do anything rash."

"This is all your fault! What on earth are you turning me into?" Tears were streaming down Abby's face now, coating her pale cheeks.

"Hey, this is not my fault! I just accidently hit you with my car." Jonathan lowered his hands, stepping towards Abigail.

"Oh, is that all?" Abigail replied sarcastically. Within moments, the tension broke from the sound of quickly approaching sirens barrelling towards the scene. "So what was your plan here exactly? How are you going to explain these very noticeable, large feathers sticking out of my back to the paramedics?"

"Well, truthfully, I hadn't thought that far! I just hit you with my car, so I just assumed you would need some medical attention like any other normal human being – which you clearly are not." Jonathan began to pace in front of Abigail, his fingers pinching between his eyes in frustration.

The ambulance reached Abigail and Jonathan, rapidly beginning to investigate the damage on the car. A younger gentlemen approached Jonathan, "Hi, you must be who called 911? Please come with me. We'd like to examine you in the ambulance; your car is in pretty rough shape. I'm surprised you don't look worse. What happened anyway?"

"I work for Child Protection Services, and I received a phone call explaining of a disturbance on this street. So, I was just responding and out of know where I hit this woman. She slammed into my windshield. Don't you think you should be checking her out first?" Jonathan replied, tilting his head towards Abigail who remained in front of the car.

The paramedic looked over his shoulder, responding in confusion "Sir, you're the only person here. Are you sure you hit a woman?"

"What? Yes, I'm sure. She's right there. I don't know her name, I haven't asked." Looking over the paramedic he shouted towards Abigail, "Come here for a second, will you?"

"Why can't they see me?" The tears began to crawl down Abby's face all over again.

Jonathan's gaze returned to the paramedics, telling them he's fine and must have been imagining things. He agreed to be examined by the paramedics, soon after the ambulance parted ways, leaving Jonathan and Abigail to themselves.

"What's your name?"

"Abigail. Why couldn't they see me? Am I dead?"

"I don't know Abigail. I really don't. My name is Jonathan. I'll do whatever I can to help you, alright?" Jonathan smiled at Abigail, wiping her tears from her porcelain cheek. "It's like nothing even happened to you."

She smiled, "You can call me Abby."

"Do you remember what you were running from, Abby?"

"Yeah, my mother. We had an argument, she was drunk and I couldn't take it anymore. So, I left. I started running down the street to go home and the next thing I know I'm sprawled on top of a windshield, and growing wings."

"I guess I was on my way to rescue you then, and instead I might have killed you. Does that count as helping?" He chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.

"No. That does not count. And besides, I don't need rescuing, thank you very much." Her arms folded across her chest. "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know. I mean, clearly you're not human anymore. Maybe you're some sort of ghost now, with unfinished business?"

"What's my unfinished business?"

"You tell me."

Abigail slumped down, catching her chin in her hands and closing her eyes. When she opened them, she was no longer next to Jonathan or in the middle of a car accident scene. She was alone, sitting on a white stool. She shouted out to the white canvas room, but the only reply was her echo. She tried to stand, but found herself glued to the stool beneath her.

A man approached from the corner, step by step, his hands comfortably in his pockets. "Hello Abigail."

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"My name is Jonathan Ward, I'm your psychiatrist. You're at St. Thomas Psychiatric Hospital. You were brought here a year ago after suffering major post-traumatic stress, regarding an incident at your home."

"What happened at my house?"

"Abigail, your mother was murdered by your step-father. He dragged you outside and tried to run you over with a vehicle. I was called there, your neighbours were concerned about a domestic disturbance but I got there too late. Unfortunately your brain hasn't reacted well to the situation and we need to keep a constant surveillance on you. You were in the hospital recovering from major injuries to your back, the windshield went through your body at your shoulders blades, barely missing your heart. Your injuries have healed quite nicely, and you're making wonderful progress. But, your nightmares haven't gone away and you seem to believe your some type of 'Fallen Angel'. We're working on that though, don't you worry!"

"But…but…no. That's impossible! You hit me with your car; I was running away from my mom. I remember everything!"

"Oh dear, it seems we've regressed. I'll up your medications and we can continue working on your recovery." Jonathan smiled, grabbing the clipboard that was hung on the door. He made some notes and exited the padded room, his long white coat flowing behind as he left.