"You and I are miracles for a reason. We still have something to give to this world. You are not destined for a secluded, spinster life."
"Getting pretty tired of this life," Anna mumbled.
"What?" Bridget frowned.
"Nothing. You're right." She patted her purse. "I'll text you tomorrow."
"Okay, but don't forget to drink extra water before going to sleep tonight. You're not used to drinking, and hangovers aren't fun." Bridget turned back to the counter, then stopped and gave Anna a worried glance. "You're okay to walk home in the dark?"
"Yeah, I’m feeling a bit better. Already ahead of you on the hydration. I gulped at least a gallon of water from the bathroom sink."
"You're turning into a heathen." Bridget laughed, then gave a dismissive wave and slipped behind the bar, joining the other bartenders.
Anna made a beeline straight to the door, the smile dropping from her face.
I silently followed. Bridget was right. She should not be walking home alone in the dark.
I kept back a few paces as she headed out of the building and into the cooler air of the night.
How do I handle our reunion? Should I ask for forgiveness on bended knee?
My top lip curled at the idea of groveling to a human.I'd rather dip myself into the Lake of Fire.
What about a gesture to show my sorrow?
My Anna had never been one to covet material things, so I doubted she'd be much impressed with anything I manifested.
Like a dark, winged protector, I took to the air a few feet above, always keeping her in sight and sending out wisps of power and shadows to sniff out any threats.
She navigated several blocks through neighborhoods that progressively began looking shabbier. After another ten minutes, she stopped outside the heavy wooden doors of the chapel and stared upward.
For a moment, I thought she somehow stared at me and for the first time in years, I felt exposed by those eyes.
She shook her head, then pivoted toward the garden on the side and slipped through the gate without a sound, making her way to the wing housing theHoly Sisters of Charity, otherwise known as the orphanage.
At least we're not going into the church proper.I hated the way I felt inside its sanctity, as ifIviolated it with my presence. Though, I suppose I did flaunt the rules of the universe when I dipped my toes into its holiness. I certainly would have a tantrum if God were to visit my plane.
Lost in my thoughts, I realized Anna had disappeared in the hall of the living quarters.
Using my power, I blinked into a long, stone corridor lit with only tiny electrical nightlights.
Either side had simple doors that led to the tiny bedrooms of each child.
Being in this area once more brought back all the memories of Anna when she'd been nothing but a small, lonely cast-out child, shunned for her disability.
Precocious and sassy, that version of little Anna had been a delight to me, though. How I'd enjoyed her quick wit and unrelenting cheerfulness despite her disability.
Had I truly been a monster for not restoring her vision? For not ensuring she'd been chosen for adoption?
That faint stirring of guilt and conscience perked up.
She wasn't my problem.Ididn't make her blind. God should've intervened.
After all, God had been the one to let it happen, not me.
I strolled the hallway, sending out thin threads of essence to taste the air, to lead me to Anna.
Turned out I didn't need to use my power, though.
