Abaddon cringed slightly at Camael's question, though he knew it was only a matter of time before it was asked. 

"After the fall, all of us were feeling broken. Regretful. The full weight of our actions had hit us," He glanced at the angel, pain in his eyes. "We were ready to beg forgiveness. But not Lucifer. Lucifer was...demented. He grabbed each angel by the throat and ripped their eings from their back. In place grew monstrosities."

Abaddon cleared his throat and continued in a near emotionless voice, like a victim recounting their story for the hundredth time. "He ripped my wings away. It wasn't a simple yank. They resisted until muscles tore and ligaments snapped. Bones cracked right in two. I screamed. I screamed so loudly and for so long, even the Creator must have heard."

"I was on my hands and knees, blood I didn't know I had pouring from my back. I knew, in that moment, what it must be like to die. Lucifer touched the remnants on my back and suddenly I was screaming again. 
From my back grew what you glimpsed earlier; but they're much more alive than you think. They dug claws like needles into my spine and held on. They'd never let go."