She walked away, deciding that what we had wasn't worth the fighting anymore.  I would have stopped her, maybe tried to get her back, but then again, I'd never felt so afraid of her. 

See when I first saw her, at least the first time her wings were white, she had picked me up off the ground after the demon from hell itself had thrown me there, battered, scarred, he left me for death. She dusted me off, took me into her arms and said

"It's ok I'm here now." 

I spent half the year with her, not a day went by I didn't think

"Damn I love her." 

But as the days started getting shorter, the white in her wings started to fade and I noticed the gray creeping in. 

Before long her wings were blackened, she hated me, hated us, hated herself. She pushed me to the ground just as the demon had and ran off, leaving me in a worse state than what she had found me in. 

I lied there, wondering how my savior, the beautiful creature she was, became my abuser. 

It took months before  I could even stand on my own. 

But when I found my feet again, I saw him, the same wings she once dawned, only stronger and purified. He held his hand out, beckoning me to take it. 

And when I did I had found my savior once and for all.