screw up. | miguel o hara
Sleep felt like purgatory. Trapped with his restless mind that replayed his life altering consequences like a broken record. The city dissolving in front of his eyes, gazing stunned at the amount of destruction he's caused. However, this time, he couldn't move within his nightmare. Miguel looked helplessly toward the many civilians that desperately ran away from the unscripted fate. He couldn't save a single soul during that day, but now he couldn't even try.
Miguel strained against whatever helped him still, but it was until he blinked that he saw two white figures standing in front of him with one red eye and halo each. They looked like his alternate self and his late foster-daughter Gabriella. The way they stood inhumanly still, the eyes digging into his being like they're trying to gut a pig, it caused him to breathe heavily, turning into a hyperventilation.
"..I-I'm.. Sorry. I'm sorry." Is all Miguel could say to the two angels. It was all he wanted to say. He ripped away potential, his daughter could have been here. The alternate Miguel wouldn't have died in vein. If he had just left it alone, at the very least, she would had still been here. But no... He didn't leave it alone. Like he should have.
night 100: he can still see them