Sight. Sight is the thing most taken for granted among all beings, whether they be human, or animal...or angel. When I came into existance...I can not say born, for I do not know nor believe that I was "born," in the typical sense of the word...I was blind. I have never been able to see, whether it be by my own power or from the help of some machine, or even by an image projected into my mind by one of my brothers. The latter has been tried...with no success. It would seem that I am destined to be blind forever, in all senses of the word. My name is Akatriel, and I am the angel of Prayer. I suppose I am blind then because of my title...if one is blind, one can not be discriminatory in his acceptance, rejection, or answer of those prayers. It makes sense...but it is also cruel, to assume that one would be disciminatory in the first place. Sometimes it hurts...alright, it hurts all the time. But there is nothing I can do about it. I have learned to cope. It used to be a lot harder...it was so hard, to be living in total blackness. Gabriel, he helped me sometimes, but I always knew that it was out of pity, and nothing else. Michael never had the time, which I understood...but no one else seemed to have the time, either. Gabriel would ask me if I was alright, if I needed anything, but of course I would say I was fine, that I needed nothing...so he would leave. It got to the point where I was so desperate for any kind of contact, any kind of attention or affection, no matter how superficial it may be, that I tried to think up things to go wrong, so that Gabriel would stay near. But it never worked. I could never tell a lie to sweet Gabriel. He did care for me on some level, I suppose, but it was only sympathy that kept him close. I became nothing more than a simple being in my small corner of Heaven, answering the prayers that I could as they came. I was only a shell of darkness, of lonliness...I was in so much pain. It hurt so much to know nothing, to see nothing, to feel nothing but sorrow, lonliness, and, eventually, self-loathing. I hated the fact that I was blind, and I hated myself for not finding some way to see, or for not trying hard enough, I don't know. Either way, the loathing creeped through me and eventually overwhelmed me like a sickness, a virus that had no cure. I wanted to die...but no one would kill me. I asked Gabriel, and Michael, anyone I came in contact with as I ambled aimlessly about Heaven, if they would please, please take my worthless life. But no one would. So I resolved to do it myself. I went to the most deserted corner of Heaven, my corner, and settled somewhere that I could be "comfortable." I managed to use my sword to cut my wrists, my chest a few times, and halfway across my neck before the loss of blood affected me. I didn't have the strength to hold the weapon anymore, and I merely lay down, and closed my eyes, prepared to allow myself to bleed to death. I began to lose consciousness, and I heard people passing me, but none stopping. Yes...don't stop...just let me die...you never stopped before, why should you now that I lay bleeding? I felt no pain anymore...and while I know much better now, I truly thought then that I could die in this way. I was naive...but for that small moment, I was free of the pain, and I was happy. Then someone touched my shoulder. Someone was shaking me. It hurt...stop, don't touch me! Leave me alone! Let me die! I was tense, I felt pain again, I hated this person shaking me...he was calling my name...did I know him? Not Gabriel...or Michael...who else could care? My name again, and the shaking, oh please stop touching me! I opened my eyes for all it was worth, straining to recognise the voice. I finally lost consciousness after more of the pain, but I had no dreams. I never had dreams...I only heard voices, and felt the pain. When I finally came to, after who knows how long, there was that same voice again...but it was softer now. Gentler. It was...comforting, almost. I asked who he was, why did he care, why didn't he just let me die? The first time I heard him speak his name, it was like a warmth spread over me, and somehow I knew that I would never have to feel that pain again...that I could trust this person. It felt...so nice...to know that someone had cared...I felt myself crying, felt the tears slipping down my cheeks so hot. Shateiel. Shateiel...he told me that someone as beautiful as I was didn't deserve to die...that I had a kind spirit, and gentle eyes. Gentle eyes? People had told me that people who are blind have no colour in their eyes...that mine were completely misted over, like a dense early morning fog within their depths. How could he tell if my eyes were gentle? He couldn't see my eyes! I was about to protest, but then I felt his lips on my face. They touched my forehead, my temple, my cheek, so close to my lips that my face burned with a blush. It felt so wonderful to have that kind of affection in my direction. Shateiel...Shateiel was the only thing that saved me. The only thing that really kept me alive. From that day forth, I never even considered suicide...just because of Shateiel. He is my only life.