Angelsau (18 angelsau stories)
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They say that pain is shared, misery passed between careful, cupped hands and nightmares trapped in a glass jar. But Zitao only remembers white feathers held over his eyes each night instead of fear in stark black. He remembers, white feathers and the stifled screams of an angel.
Dark. Light. Polluted. Innocence. They were different.