I reeled backwards, astonished.
“But…why?” I asked, gasping. “I’m not sick, or hurt, or anything! I can’t die now!”
The angel sobbed, covering its face as best as it could with its one unbroken arm.
“I am so sorry,” it said again.
“Why?” I repeated. “Why must I die?”
“It is what they decided,” the angel wept. “What they say is law.”
“But, when? When must I die?” I said, starting to cry myself.
“Oh, it would be a brave person to resist the powers,” the angel said quietly to itself.
“What?” I said shakily.
“I’m not a brave person,” the angel murmured.
“What are you talking about?” I asked almost harshly.
The angel dried its tears and looked at me. “I would spare you your life,” it said, “for you have been kind to me, but…”
“But what?” I asked.
“Oh, they would be enraged!” the angel said, again talking with itself. “But, I cannot…”
“What are you talking about?” I screamed. “Tell me when I’m to die! When must I die?”
It stared.
“Never by my hands,” it said.