The young years...
Christian quickly found out that the girl had a curiosity for the things in life that were bigger than a girl of 8 could possibly handle or appropriately understand.
It was two nights before her 9th birthday that she finally brought up the subject while her mother was tucking her into bed.
There was an old armchair positioned right near the window in Anastasia's bedroom, ever since he could remember since landing on Earth to care and look over his charge that Christian often liked to sit in.
It was there he made himself comfortable on the evening two nights before Anastasia turned 9 years old. A fluffy pink pillow that belonged to the girl supported his back as he stretched out his long legs, observing the conversation between child and daughter.
Much to his relief, Anastasia's relationship with her mother had improved since her father had died in the marine accident. He'd noticed they had become closer and more open as the years had passed, probably because the mother had accepted Anastasia shared her grief over the loss of Frank as well.
Christian watched them, as he always did, stroking around his chin with his fingertips while the mother tucked Anastasia in. His young charge had her hair in a tight ponytail, most of her hair pulled back from her scalp, making her face look rather severe. It illustrated the sharp curve of her chin and the round, pink cheekbones of hers. Her wide blue eyes remained on her mother as Carla kissed her forehead gently, then bid her goodnight, but Christian could tell Anastasia had other things than sleeping on her mind tonight.
He could sense her curiosity, her alertness. She wasn't quite ready to go to bed yet.
"Mom, can I, um... ask you something?" His charge's voice was filled with hesitance. Her voice had changed somewhat over the years of looking over the child as well; Somehow, it was higher, deeper.
"Of course you can, honey. What is it?"
Christian could read Anastasia's nervous hesitance as her mother waited patiently, stroking her head, smoothing back her hair with her palm gently.
"Well..." She bit her lip as she blinked slowly up at her mother from her place on the pillow. "Why did daddy have to leave us so early?" Christian heard the tense sigh her mother gave out at the evidently unexpected question. "All the other kids at school, I've noticed they still have their daddy's with them," Anastasia added hastily beneath her breath; Her way of softening the blow, Christian knew. "I just... I don't understand why he had to leave us so early?"
"Honey, sometimes things just... happen." Christian knew her mother was trying to pick her words as carefully as she could. "Sometimes there's no deciding when you're going to go. Your daddy left us early because I suppose his time was just up."
He saw Anastasia consider that deeply as she dropped her eyes to her small hands that were clenched nervously together above the sheets. "Do you think that maybe then he's... watching down on us?"
Anastasia had started to become more curious about death. Christian lifted a leg, tucking it over the other as he bobbed his polished shoe up and down, waiting for her mother to explain.
"You know what I think, honey?" Carla made her voice brighter as an attempt to cheer her child up. Christian watched the way she smiled as she reached down, tapping Anastasia on the nose twice with her fingertip playfully. Anastasia made a small noise, squirming lightly beneath the sheets as a smile broke across her face. "I think your daddy is looking down from Heaven, watching us every day. I bet he's watching us right now, and he's listening to us speaking about him."
Christian recognized Anastasia's happiness over her mother's words as her eyes glistened and lit up in excitement. "You think so?" she murmured hopefully. "You think he's looking down on us right now, hearing us speak about him?"
"Oh, I bet he is." Her mother tapped the tip of her nose again and Anastasia giggled softly, a sound that made his heart warm. "And I bet he loves and misses you very, very much."
He could sense she was now content by her mother's words. He heard her hum in response while she fiddled with her small, short fingers again, picking at her thumbnail with her index finger.
"Sometimes I really, really miss him a lot," Anastasia then murmured sadly, and her mother sighed.
"I know, honey. I miss your daddy a lot as well. But he's always with us. In here." Carla covered the left side of her chest with her hand. "It's why it's so important to talk about him and keep his memories alive, because he'll always be here." She thumped at her chest with her palm loudly. "He'll always be alive for us in here."
"You promise?"
"I promise, baby." Leaning down on the creaking mattress, her mother kissed her forehead softly. "Now you better get to sleep."
"OK, mom. Love you."
"You too, honey."
Christian remain where he was, jiggling his foot over his knee in the armchair while he watched her mother stand. She walked over to the dresser, clicking off Anastasia's night-lamp. He was immersed in pitch-black darkness in the room, but an angel's eyesight was exceptional. He could still see the mother clearly as if it were day when she hovered by the doorway for a moment, then she left the room. Carla reached out, closing Anastasia's door fully quietly.
And then there was silence, as there often was at this time of the night.
Christian leaned his head back against the armrest as he turned his grey eyes to his young charge. He could still feel her, awake as she stared up at the dark ceiling and the shadows around the room cautiously. Then he felt it slowly permeate him; The sensation of her beginning to fall, beginning to drift off.
Once a distant, humming lull washed over him, he felt confident his charge was sleeping peacefully then.
This had become the times he loathed the most, if he had to be honest. Throughout his entire 9 years of looking over the child since he'd been assigned her, Christian dreaded the times where she slept. It always became far too quiet, far too uneventful for him.
Once he heard the child breathing in a calm, deep rhythm, he stood from the armchair, restlessly pacing around her bedroom.
She'd had a creative spark earlier; glittery gold pens and pieces of paper on the plastic table near her dresser. She'd drawn on the papers with the glitter, doing different strange designs to keep herself preoccupied while her mother had cooked dinner.
He walked over to the table, bending down, peering at the pictures as a way to distract himself while she slept. Over the years, Anastasia had become enthusiastic about arts and crafts, as well as reading. There were some long words she still did not understand, but he tried to project all of his understanding and wisdom onto her as often as he could.
He tried to make sense of the glitter drawings in the dark, unaware his charge's breathing had changed. When he became aware of it, he immediately stood and approached the bed, her own anxiety and distress filling him.
She was making little puffing panting noises, and as he stood over her, Christian recognized that she was having a nightmare. The bed sheets were trembling as she shook, her head moving back and forth over the pillow furiously as she shook her head. There was a lined crease between her eyebrows as she frowned deeply.
And then she began talking.
"N-no," she squeaked out in a soft murmur. "N-no, d-don't."
Christian tried to concentrate, projecting serenity and calm thoughts onto her while trying to erase her own horror and fearful feelings that filled him.
"P-please," she whimpered, her head turning towards him. "D-don't go. D-don't."
Usually, Christian could alter and soothe her mind without effort, but tonight it didn't seem to be working as easily as it usually did. Anastasia had her nightmares now and then, but usually he could bring her out of them by simply letting his wings cover her and give her strength.
He had to try a different tactic tonight, one he wasn't even sure would work.
Christian reached down with his hand, then hesitated. Would she even be able to feel him or even sense his touch, no less? What if he couldn't wake her and calm her down, failing her?
Sucking in a sharp exhale, he finally reached down to touch her gently on her forehead with his fingers. He'd expected to touch right through her, that she wouldn't be able to feel him at all. Instead, Christian felt his heart jolt when the tips of his fingers met warm, flushed skin.
As if her touch was burning him alive, Anastasia suddenly gasped and flung herself upright, her eyes wide and staring up at him through the dark.
He must have broken through the barrier. Now and then, he felt as if she could see him, but that hadn't happened very often like it had when she was a baby. Yet now, here she was, his young charge, breathing heavily as she stared right at him from where he stood above her, her breaths shallow, fast, and panicked.
"Your OK," he whispered, clenching his hand into a fist as he moved back, suddenly feeling afraid himself to touch her. He'd felt her. He'd actually felt his charge's skin himself. "Everything's OK, Anastasia." He didn't understand. She was still staring at him, her eyes wide and incredulous, face shaking, like she could actually see him. "You were just having a bad dream but your safe, in bed."
Her breath hitched in her throat, as if she could even hear him speaking as well as see him in physical form.
Then she whispered, "W-who are you?" Fear coursed through him- though he wasn't sure whose it belonged to the most. "W-why are you in my bedroom? H-how did you get in here?"
Christian stared at his charge for a few minutes, bewildered. Had she really spoken directly to him just then? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? He'd heard, from the counsel elders, that it was mostly rare for a charge to see through the barrier, though there were documented cases of it happening occasionally with children younger than 5 as their souls were naturally pure.
It occurred to Christian what it must have looked like as the child sat up fearfully, eyes still on him, afraid to look elsewhere in case he attacked her. He could see the sheer terror she felt.
"It's OK, Anastasia. Like I said, your safe. I'm your-" He paused, swallowing loudly.
It was against the rules. No interfering, no letting a charge become aware. There would be serious consequences for him if he told her the truth and then the counsel members found out.
"Y-your my what?" Anastasia croaked out. "Who are you? I-I don't know you?"
Again, she was still speaking to him, she was still seeing him. He could not believe it.
"I'm your... your friend," he settled on. "I'm safe. I'm your friend and I... I won't hurt you."
He could feel her fears diminishing a little as she continued to watch him cautiously through the dark of her bedroom from where he stood, inches away from her bed.
"How can you say your my friend? How do you even know my name?"
His charge was relentless. Christian could not believe this was happening. Was this something abnormal? Did the elders know about this?
He brought up a hand to run his fingers through his hair as he thought over what to say. There was little he could say that was permissable. "You'll just have to learn to trust me when I tell you that I'm your friend and that I won't hurt you."
"Your a stranger. I'm not allowed to talk to strangers? Strangers can't be friends?
Christian felt a maddening urge to laugh at the whole thing. Not only was she being incredibly infuriating, but this was unbelievable. "I'm not a stranger to you, trust me. I've been watching you since you were an infant." He hadn't meant to let that slip out, but it was too late. She'd heard. He watched as his charge's eyes widened and she stiffened. "I'm here to offer you guidance and to make sure your safe."
"Guidance? Like, um, an angel, you mean?"
He'd already said too much. She was too smart for her own good. "Something like that, yes."
He could feel her disbelief as she slowly sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest. She remained still against the pillows, watching him cautiously. "I don't think there's such a thing as angels?"
"Well, there is."
"But you don't look like one? I thought angels had wings and could fly?"
Clearly his young charge would not have been convinced unless he could show her an actual magical demonstration that proved otherwise. Christian bit down on his lip, thinking deeply. He was unsure what he appeared like to her in his physical form. Did he appear a regular man to her? Apparently so.
"I can't show you my wings, Anastasia."
"Why not?"
"Because they clearly aren't visible to you. They aren't... part of my form when you see me as I am now, standing before you."
"Then your a liar, aren't you?" He couldn't believe how stubborn she was. "If you can't prove your an angel even although you say your one, then... I don't believe you!"
"Your name is Anastasia Rose Steele. Your mother gave birth to you on September 10 at 8.46 p.m in the evening. Your father Frank, unfortunately died due to an accident while serving in the marines." He was trying a new tactic to convince her, though he could still feel her distrust and caution for him.
"Just because you know things about me, it doesn't mean your truly an angel!"
He sighed loudly as he thought of something else. Lifting both hands, he began unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt slowly. His charge dropped her eyes to her knees hastily, unsure of his intentions. "Years ago, on the very night you came into this world, I made a pledge," Christian explained, and the girl reluctantly brought up her eyes in time to see him open up the collar on his shirt. "I, Christian Grey, accept Anastasia Rose Steele to be my charge in the Earth world."
He glanced down at the marks left on his chest himself as his young charge stared at them. Three marks, signalling each thrust of the blade. Each unbreakable vow.
"I, Christian Grey, would willingly die for my charge if the cause was necessary."
He could see that moment in his head again, the memory, as if he was back there with the counsel members, making his vows all over again. The amusement he felt that tore him out of that memory was not his own.
"So you have scars? That doesn't prove anything either?"
She was impossible. Gritting his teeth in defeat and frustration, Christian buttoned his shirt back up slowly.
"So, if you truly are an angel like you say you are, does... my mommy have one too?"
He was not completely certain but he'd heard that after a certain age, sometimes guardian angels were no longer needed by their charge. That either meant they would die off at the cause, or they would return one day, whenever the charge was in serious need. He was not sure about the mother however. "I'm not sure if your mother is still with her assigned guardian. Sometimes, as you get older, we have... less reason to stick around."
"But where do you supposedly go?" He could tell she still did not believe him. There was an air of mockery to his small charge's voice.
"I'm not sure, Anastasia. But we all must go somewhere."
He did not feel it right to tell the girl at her age that it was likely that, after a certain age, they would cease to exist. Perhaps they were sent to death as they were no longer needed? He was not sure of what happened himself, just as he was unsure what would happen to her, as his charge, once she passed from this world.
Warily, Christian turned his grey eyes on the girl again. Still she was sitting up against her pillow, legs pulled up to her chest as she watched him and every movement he made. He could feel the suspicion and doubt still plaguing her.
Eventually, he decided he would have to prove his worth, his trustworthiness, to her.
No matter if it took years, Christian knew he had the time.
...
"Ana, honey!" Her mother pounded twice on her bedroom door with her hand gently. "It's 7.30, baby. You better get up and get dressed or else you'll be late to school!"
Opening her eyes with a groan, she climbed out of bed, leaving the sheets unmade and her bed messy as she started changing into the school clothes her mother had set out neatly for her the night before. Last night flickered through her mind as she sat back down onto the edge of her unmade bed to pull on her socks and shoes while she hummed to herself.
Her eyes went to the armchair near the curtained window, then they flew across her bedroom, searching nervously. Everything was still as she had left it the night before. The glitter pens and pieces of paper she had drawn on were still in their place. A few of her toys were still where she had put them the last time she played with them. There was no one else in the room with her; No strange man claiming to be an angel, a friend sent to protect and look after her.
Had she dreamed it then?
Tying her shoelaces with steady fingers as she crouched down to reach them, an idea came to her. Once she'd finished the last loop on her shoelace, she quickly sank to the floor, turning her head to peer under her bed. Was he beneath there, hiding from her?
No, he wasn't. She sighed at herself in disappointment when all she saw beneath the bed were old shoes that she had not worn in a while. There was no strange man like the one that had spoken to her last night. Where was he? Or had she really been dreaming after all?
"Ana?" Her mother's shrill shout startled her and she gasped, getting to her feet. "I hope your up? Breakfast is ready!"
Trying to find the strange man again would have to wait until later. If she remained upstairs, looking around in her bedroom for too long, her mother would come up, probably angry with her. She hated it when her mom was angry.
Quickly grabbing her school bag off the floor, she opened the bedroom door and ran downstairs, being careful not to trip in her shoes as she leaped and hopped off the last two in one go.
She found her mother in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Anastasia spotted the bowl of cereal her mother had made for her at once and plopped her bag down, shuffling onto the chair to eat her breakfast. Her stomach was rumbling from hunger.
"Did you sleep OK?" Anastasia's mother asked with concern as she watched her daughter start eating.
"I think so," she answered through a mouthful of crunchy cereal. Her thoughts went back to that strange man last night. Had her mother heard him talk or seen him as well? "Mom, did you see a man come into my room last night?"
She did not understand the look her mother gave her as she stared at her while nursing her mug of coffee between her hands. "A man?"
"Yeah, there was this strange man in my room last night!"
"Oh, Anastasia." Her mother huffed out a laugh as she shook her head. "That imagination of yours."
"But it's true!" She couldn't help her voice rising as her mother laughed again. "A man was in my room last night and he said he was sent here to protect me!"
"Protect you? Are you sure you weren't dreaming?"
"No, it was real life! He said he's something of an angel, but he couldn't show me his wings! He woke me up from a nightmare!"
Her mother laughed again, muttering something about her wild imagination. Infuriated, Anastasia fell into a silence, eating the rest of her cereal with her spoon. Then it was time to head off to school.
Her mother kissed her goodbye, then Anastasia stormed out of the house with her school bag flung over one shoulder. It took a fifteen minute walk to the school grounds each morning.
She couldn't believe it. Why did her mother just laugh? How could she not believe her? She could have sworn it were true and not a dream!
She felt so angry that she forgot to pay attention. Usually, she looked both ways before crossing the road, but her mind was still too busy thinking about her mother laughing at her and thinking she was just making it all up. Hoisting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she went to cross the street, her head down, cheeks feeling bright red with anger.
"Anastasia!"
It all happened so quickly. The instance both her feet had stepped off the footpath onto the road, a man had cried out her name in warning at the same time a horn bleeped from a car turning onto the road. She gasped and squealed in shock when, suddenly, two hands were grabbing her around her waist, hard. She was hoisted back onto the sidewalk with force just as the person that had grabbed her had knelt before her on their knees.
Anastasia was shaking uncontrollably as she blinked in shock at what had just happened. She had been that close! That close to getting run over by that car! She hadn't even been paying attention, she hadn't even seen it in the first place!
"Are you all right?"
Her eyes lifted to the face that belonged to the figure kneeling before her as she trembled, her face pale, heart beating rapidly in fear. And it was him! His voice! The man from last night!
He was kneeling right before her, both of his much larger hands gripping onto hers. She felt the man squeeze her fingers tightly with his several times, as a soothing wave of calm washed over her a moment later once she met his eyes and held his concerned, deep gaze.
She swallowed against a dry lump as she felt herself slowly return to rights again.
The man was still there, real and alive before her, judging by the way his warm skin touched hers and the way she felt him press down against her fingers with his own much larger and longer ones several times. She was not sure why, but she felt instant comfort and relief in the fact that he was sending squeezes to her hands.
"Did your mother not teach you to look both ways before you cross the road?" the man muttered, and once her head seemed to become clear again, she realized she had made the man angry. "I know for a fact that she did. I was there, two years ago. The first time she walked you."
There was real frustration and anger in his voice, yet when she stared into his deep grey eyes again, all she thought she could see was sheer relief in them.
"I-I'm-" she stuttered nervously as his eyes searched around her face intently.
She couldn't remember what she was about to say to him, but she thought that maybe she was going to apologize for making him mad. She hated making adults mad, even if they weren't her mother.
But what? He'd been there when her mom had first walked her to school?
"Y-your him?" she whispered, eyeing him carefully now that it was morning and she could see him clearly. "Your the man that said that you're here to protect me f-from last night?"
She wasn't sure what she was expecting. He was older than her, a lot older, though she couldn't really say how old he appeared to be when all adults looked pretty much the same to her. His hair was tousled, Dressed in the same dark trousers and white shirt as last night, with shiny shoes. His shoes were shiny and black, like smart shoes her father used to wear whenever he had interviews or special occasions that he needed to be at before returning back to his services.
Her cheeks warmed when she realized she was simply dazing off, staring at his shoes. She gulped as she lifted her blue eyes back to his again. There was something about this man. He was a stranger- that she knew- and strangers were dangerous pretty much.
Yet there did not feel anything dangerous about him. She did not understand it, but this man, despite how older he was, he felt... safe to her. Immediately safe and comforting, his presence. Safe and warm and special.
"Your going to be late to school," he muttered, giving her fingers one last, gentle squeeze with his. Then he stood, pushing her hands away. He was much, much taller than she realized he would be. She barely reached his waist. "Look both ways next time, Anastasia."
Her mother always told her it was important to thank someone after they did something nice. She supposed he deserved a thank you for stopping her from getting run over. "T-thank you," she whispered, lifting her chin back to be able to glance up at him.
His eyes seemed to soften and then he made a gesture with his hand, as if beckoning her along.
Instead, Anastasia heard herself blabbing, "I told my mom about you but she didn't believe me." It was embarrassing and annoying, how her mother had laughed it off. "She didn't believe when I told her about you! She laughed at me and said it's my wild imagination!"
She was almost expecting him to laugh at her too, but fortunately, he didn't. Her chin rose higher in relief when the man simply nodded at her words. "Well, I wouldn't do that again, if I were you."
"Do what?"
"Bother telling other people about me, Anastasia. I hardly think anyone will believe you."
"But why not? Why won't they?"
"Because I'm your friend," he explained quietly. "I'm here just for you." She didn't understand what he meant but she didn't bother asking.
Anastasia glanced behind her shoulder as she began crossing the road safely this time, discovering that he was following after her. He walked along with her towards her school, a strange expression on his face. He reminded her of a dog that was on-guard, keeping an eye on their surroundings in case he needed to do something like intervene and rescue her again. It was like he was waiting for something to happen.
She also noticed that, as a woman walked past her pushing a pram, that they didn't look at the man that was walking beside her. The woman simply gave Anastasia a quick smile as she walked past briskly. Did no one else see him but her? He was real, wasn't he? She'd even felt his flesh against her own hands herself, so how could no one else see him?
As they reached the grounds to her school, Anastasia thought she heard the man sigh loudly. When she glanced his way again curiously, surely enough, he was kneeling beside her again, level with her.
"Be safe, OK?" The words were strict, like he was a teacher or parent demanding she do what he says.
"And if I don't?" she challenged, wanting to see what he'd do.
She thought she saw a fleeting troubled look come across the man's face as he glanced away from her. He shook his head several times as his jaw clenched. "Anastasia, I can't always be there to protect you," he said, and when he held her gaze again, she was a little spooked by how serious he looked. "This works both ways. You have to try to be safe as humanly possible without doing anything to purposefully endanger yourself, and I'll try to protect you and keep you safe whenever I can." The school bell rang loudly just as she watched him raking his fingers slowly through his hair. "You better get inside and don't be late," he urged her.
"OK. Bye."
As she turned to leave to join the students that were rushing to get inside, she paused by the front steps to look back at the man. Her stomach flopped as she looked around the yard and in the street nervously.
He'd disappeared, just like that, as if by magic.
...
Carla sat in the waiting room, fidgeting with her leather handbag as she waited to be called for her appointment.
She felt as if she was running out of hope. Lately, she'd noticed some strange and concerning behavior with her daughter, Anastasia. It had started and came on so abruptly. First, it was the morning she had woken up and had told her mother that a man had been in her room the night before.
Ever since then, things had become increasingly worse. Carla had heard her daughter speaking to someone in her room in the middle of the night, yet she was positive no one was present in the room with her. Whenever she'd ask Anastasia about this, her daughter insisted it was her 'guardian angel' that was speaking to her.
At first, Carla hoped it was just her imagination. She'd grow out of it after a few months. It was just a harmless phase her daughter was going through.
Only, five months later, it was still happening. It did not seem dangerous, this imaginary friend Anastasia had conjured up. By what her daughter had said of him, her 'guardian angel' was protective and sensible, always guiding her along. Like a father figure, perhaps. But it was starting to seriously concern Carla.
That was where she found herself now, privately seeing one of the rumored best child psychologists in town, hoping that they could shed some light on what her daughter was going through. Her daughter was currently at school, and Carla wanted the chance to speak to the psychologist alone at first. She didn't want her daughter to feel she was punishing her or that she thought she were abnormal.
"Mrs Steele?" A man's warm voice broke her out of her thoughts, and Carla stood abruptly from the chair as she looked at the man that had a known reputation for being the best child psychologist in Seattle.
Dr John Flynn appeared to be in his late 30's, with dark hair and piercing grey eyes. Carla smiled as she stepped forward to shake his hand.
"Yes, I'm Mrs Steele," she said nervously. "Thank you so much for agreeing to see me."
"Of course." Letting her hand go, Dr Flynn smiled as he beckoned her towards where his office is. Carla entered, her high heels clicking on the floor. She helped herself to a chair while holding her bag in her lap, her breathing unsteady. "So, Mrs Steele, what can I do for you this morning?" Dr Flynn asked amicably as he shut the door to his office for some privacy.
Carla waited until the Doctor was seated in his chair before she began. "I'm rather concerned about my daughter Ana's behavior at the moment," she began, her voice quivering. "It's been a stressful time."
Relaxing into his seat and crossing a leg over the other, Dr Flynn leaned back, eyeing her curiously. "I understand, if you don't mind me bringing it up, that... your husband passed away not too long ago?"
"Yes. Yes, he did. A few years ago."
"I see." Dr Flynn nodded once, stroking his chin with his fingers. "I'm sorry for the loss. What seems to be the problem?"
"Well, my daughter, Ana, she... I've noticed lately that her behavior has become incredibly strange. I suppose I just wanted a second opinion."
"And what seems strange about her behavior?"
"She talks to herself," Carla breathed out, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. "Well, really, she seems convinced that she has this guardian angel. I sometimes hear her talking to him during the night in her bedroom."
"Right. So as in, like... an imaginary friend, perhaps?"
"I guess so, if that's what you can call it?" Carla felt the worry and tension leave her, bit by bit, the more she vocalized her concerns for her 9 year old daughter to the doctor. "It doesn't seem sinister, really. She says he likes to protect her and make sure she's safe. Things like helping her safely cross the road or helping her learn how to spell longer words. He'll tell her stories or... she seems to think he has a very soothing presence on her, that he gives her strength and makes her calm when she's upset."
"Right." Nodding at her words, she watched as Dr Flynn took a pen off his desk. He tapped it against his wrist absently as he thought her words through. "Well, firstly, let me reassure you that there is nothing abnormal or wrong with a child having an imaginary friend. Often, it happens and goes on more than you'd think it does. Has she described this friend at all?"
"Vaguely." Carla cleared her throat apprehensively as she began playing with the strap of her handbag again. "She says his names Christian and she's described him as... a lot taller than her. A lot taller with grey eyes and dark hair. She even says he knows how she's feeling, that he can... appear like magic or disappear."
"Christian," Dr Flynn repeated pensively. "So her imaginary friend is named Christian."
thank you for the faves and follows, as well as the comments. i wasn't expecting that at all so was very shocked. this is going to be a unconventional love story (if a little weird probably), inspired by the movie city of angels. right now, it's just touching on ana and christian when she was younger, its when shes older that complications arise. christian will become his usual protective possessive self, even as her guardian angel when no one else can see him. but that will change as a plot :)
i would very much like to know your feelings, they inspire me to write