I watched the rain fall, in sheets upon the ground. I heard thunder rumble in the distance, far beyond my line of sight somewhere in the vast grey sky. I wished I could see the brilliant flashes of lightning across the horizon, but I was stuck in the restricting confines of the school building. It was so cold outside, the wind a painful arctic shock upon the exposed flesh, yet inside it was warm. The school bustled with life, everyone bundled in bulky coats, thick boots, and wool gloves. People stared out the window as the teacher rambled on about the inner workings of the human mind. As I listened to nature's chaotic waging of war upon the earth, I absentmindedly doodled in my notebook. At first the lines took no form, but after a while they morphed into shapes and eventually a creature. It was an angel, whose wings hung to the ground soaking wet as it kneeled on the ground, its hands covering its face to conceal the torment. It had the form of a young girl, in her teens, and across her bare arms, legs, and torso were huge scars mingled with new wounds dripping fresh blood. Her hair was soaking and falling over her shoulders as she hunched over in pain, yet what was most striking was not her drenched, agonized state, but the fact that her chest had a hole in it, right where her heart should have been safely locked away. Her heart lay beside her bruised feet, bloody and torn, ravaged beyond recognition. The thunder gave another ominous roar and beside the angel was another body, that of a young boy. By the paler of his skin and odd angle of his neck, it was obvious he had died. His eyes were closed, and in his hand was a bloody dagger. His clothes clung to his lifeless flesh, and his dark hair was strewn across his face. He looked so pitiful and frail, so young and innocent, that the rain pouring outside seemed like a procession of mourners lamenting his early demise. The angel was hunched at his side, tormented by his corpse, tortured by the sight of his little body lying cold and lifeless. She cried silent tears, yet I could see, practically feel her pain. I was drowning in her sorrow, just as the earth beyond the window was drowning in the rain. A clap of thunder was cut off by the blaring of the school bell, and the world came back to life around me. I closed my notebook, the angel disappearing and taking with her the young boy's corpse, and headed off to my next class, the rain a violent whisper over my shoulder. A final crash of thunder welcomed my departure.