Pain
Truly, there is something beautiful about pain.
It exists in everyone. It is inevitable. It cripples us. It makes us ache and burn and destroys our minds. It makes us yearn for the soothing comforts of peace and tranquility. It makes us energized enough to topple mountain and cease winds. It makes us strong by weakening us just enough to hurt our bodies but not our hopes.
Isn't this true? Imagine a time in your life. All have struggled at least once. Imagine a moment when you struggled and witnessed other people struggling in the same way. Perhaps you shared that suffering with those people. The connection humans create when in pain is so beautiful. Perhaps you didn't even think of them because of your focus on your own pain. Didn't that loneliness seem beautiful even once?
Pain can drown the soul when the person cannot handle the effects of their own emotions. This happens with everyone. Tony Stark drowned in his pain when he had his Civil War. Steve Rogers drowned when he lost his life and had to regain a new one in modern times. Thor drowned in his pain when he lost his life and status during his banishment.
In this story, our heroine drowned in her pain when her family cast her out. Her journey to another land for proper mourning further broke her down.
Her feet and her map brought her to the pier, where she could only hope there was some way to the other side of the world. There was no hope for her on this hemisphere, not at that moment. She scoped around the area, trying to look for some kind of ship that was definitely going to Europe. Her best bet was England or the other Isles countries, but Italy was a good idea too.
(She took Italian in high school after forcing herself to learn it and failing. All this was after watching her first black-and-white Italian movie in middle school. She liked to think she was fluent in Italian, but some of the idioms caught her off guard every time she heard them.)
Her eyes drew towards some kind of uniformed ship crew talking amongst themselves and standing near what looked like a cruise ship docked a few feet away. The group of eight men consisted of all adults twenty or over. She approached them hesitantly, eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed, lips bitten red in her nervousness. "Um, excuse me?" They didn't hear her. Again, she called to them, "Excuse me? Sirs?"
A few of them looked up at her voice. They raised eyebrows at the peculiar sight: a homeless-looking girl walking alone on a pier with nothing but a backpack over her shoulder and a phone in her hand.
The eldest of the men, likely the ship captain (based off of his hat), smiled gently. "Hello, miss." Sanjeevani got closer, standing just two feet from them. "What can I do for you?"
She asked in the sweetest, airiest, most innocent voice, "I was just wondering if there's any docked ships that are heading to Europe right now? My friend said he wanted to run away to France after experiencing some really harsh stuff here in the States. I wanted to make sure he's okay. I didn't know what to do or who to go to when he told me that, which is why I'm here."
He sighed, nodding his head. The man's kindly expression solidified, soft green gaze morphing into a cold, almost crystalline stare. "Alright. You know what ship he wanted to go on?"
"No, sir. He only said France. He mentioned something about a cargo ship, but I don't know what that entails."
The man looked at his subordinates and nodded. "Boys, start a search alert. Dear, what was his name again?"
"Max. We were homeless together for a few weeks. I finally got some extra cash when some person gave me fifty bucks or so, and we got cleaned up at the local homeless shelter before going for some shopping at Goodwill. Today will be a month from when I first went homeless, so I considered this a little anniversary for me and wanted to celebrate. But just as we were on our way to go for food, he told me his plan and ran off without another word. I lost him in the crowd and figured he'd come here to find that ship to France."
The sailors ate the story up like some kind of five-star meal, eyes wide and sympathetic for the faux plight of the girl. They nodded and sighed, shooting Sanjeevani genuine looks. The captain responded to her story with a harsh barked order to his men to begin a massive search through the docks. "You stay right here, young lady. We'll go find your friend. Two of you stay right here with her while we search," he grunted at his subordinates before hurrying off with the others. She didn't anticipate guards to stay at her side when the search began, and she didn't anticipate a lack of response to which ships were going to Europe. She believed the men would tell her what ship would travel to Europe and then all rush off to look for the apparent lost person, but two stayed behind. And now, she had to deduce another plan to distract these two so she could sneak away to figure out the nearest Europe-bound freight ship and get on without detection.
But maybe she didn't need to sneak away to look. The Internet was her toolbox. And her best tool? Google. She unlocked her phone, which she connected to the free wifi at the pier (What pier needs free and public wifi? she thought. Maybe the sailors just wanna watch YouTube without wasting data.) and searched for the name of this pier and looked for its schedule, assuming it would be like an airport, where all flights, arrivals, and departures were listed specifically. Of course, she had to remain discreet and not draw the sailors' attention, but that was not difficult.
What would truly test her was devising a way to get on that ship.
So, she made a little excuse (read: complete lie) that she had to go and tell the also homeless mutual friends of hers and Max's that he was going to be found. The sailors guarding her bought the excuse and hurried away to assist with the search. It seems they didn't enjoy watching over her like a couple of babysitters. Sanjeevani had no issue with that.
She sprinted off and continued her Googling, eventually finding three ships headed for Europe from the port that day. One was going to France, the other to Greece, and the last to England.
England would be of no help in case she had to get away from police or the central gov. She would have nowhere to run on an island. Greece was too far and too economically unsafe in case she had to remain awhile. France sounded good. And in case she had to go somewhere she knew the language, she could go to Italy or even Spain. And just going off of her dark skin tone and body type, she could probably pass for a hobo or street dancer if she wanted to conceal herself from the eyes of Big Brother.
She checked the info of docking area, time of departure, time of arrival, and type of cargo of the France ship. The behemoth actually contained thousands of crates of ammunition and weapons, among other military items. At that realization, Sanjeevani automatically regretted her every decision. But she couldn't turn back now.
She secretly made her way to the docking area of the France-bound ship, sneaking around in the shadows and hidden corners of the shipyard. By some kind of weird divine intervention, no one even noticed her although sailors searched and occupied every area of the pier. Presumably, they all received intel that some teenager planned to stowaway on one of the ships, so they rushed away to prevent that, all the while not realizing that the girl who gave them the intel was actually the prospective stowaway.
Getting on the ship seemed another difficulty, but there seemed to be a way in for her. As she stood at the edge of the water where the ship waited with long side parallel to the dock, her eyes spotted a slightly ajar door of a massive crate standing a few feet away from her. After checking the label on the crate, she knew this was her ride to France. She tucked the crowbar she found on the ground into her backpack as a way out of the crate before crawling inside the giant wooden box. Thank goodness, it only housed military supplies like backpacks, metal dishware, and eating utensils.
Sanjeevani held the wooden door open as far as physically possible before slipping in. She sat down on a pile of plastic-sealed backpacks for cushion on the long journey. She kept breathing as soft as she could manage in order to prevent people from realizing that she was in there. That was a risk she didn't want to ever take.
Her heart plummeted when some tall, human shadows fell through the light of the open crack. No one entered, but instead, the crate was nailed shut. Damn good idea it was to bring that crowbar along. She tucked herself up and simply waited for the sudden and nauseating movement associated with sailing.
She slowly realized how lucky she was this entire time. Not only did everyone buy her story, but she got into this crate with no one noticing. She looked around her and felt confusion fill her mind when she noticed how empty the crate was and when she realized the fact that a crowbar sat right next to it. So, clearly, someone had opened the crate and taken out the items inside before leaving the weapon at the scene of the crime. Her body swayed violently when the crate lifted off the ground and was dropped onto a conveyor belt that slid into the hull of the ship. Even more luck. What god was watching over her at that moment?
She rubbed her face and groaned impossibly soft when the conveyor belt noises ended abruptly. She had looped herself into this whole mess. Food and water weren't much of an issue. She had packed enough to last her weeks. Clothes weren't much of an issue. But air and a place to leave excrement? That was an issue. And she couldn't open the crate just yet. Her first solution to the two problems involved pulling out the crowbar and using the sharp, long end to poke some holes in the wood of the crate so that she could breathe better.
The sailors would know. She concluded that eventually, she had to leave the crate and expose her plan to run off to Europe illegally. The sailors would eventually discover her.
But maybe she could slow that process down a little? She had a lot of time on her hands since the only thing she had to do was live and not go insane from isolation. She could teach herself how her powers worked. And when she came back to Tony and the Avengers, Loki could teach her with pride that she was a good enough student to take that initiative, and she wouldn't be an inexperienced child. Rather, she'd be a partly-self-taught student of the mystic arts. How awesome would that be?!
But how in the world was she going to use her abilities or whatever to slow her discovery? She didn't have much experience with them. Just a few hours.
She thought long and hard on what she knew about her abilities so far. She knows for sure that she can heal the human body. Most likely, because the powers came from within her and not somewhere outside her body, they were caused by a mutation. That means, the healing is science-based, not magic based. Best explanation of how her powers work would be with a metaphor.
Do you, dear reader, remember chemistry class? Maybe biology class? Either way, you at some point in your life learned about catalysts. They improve the function and speed of a reaction without participating in said reaction. Catalysts decrease the activation energy of the reaction and allow the process to reach that energy threshold sooner so that the reaction can occur more quickly.
Sanjeevani figured her powers worked the same way. She strengthens and speeds up the natural healing process of the human body without directly affecting the injury. So if her powers allow her to manipulate the body's regular repair functions, why wouldn't they be able to manipulate other body systems?
Her idea was, if she can utilize the body's healing process to fix wounds, why couldn't she use the body's digestive and filtering systems to avoid excretory processes? She could possibly utilize the unused food wastes in excrement by altering her digestive system to drain even more of the materials in excrement so that the only substance to be removed from the body is a highly concentrated, small pellet of waste. As for urine, she could force her body to change the urea with chemical reactions to make it into a substance to be used for energy.
This could possibly work. But she had to control all of her body processes first, though. She had to expand her powers from just repair to control over most or all the body's organ systems. And that would take time.
So she taught herself. She meditated for help with concentration (even though she didn't like meditating). She did stretches for help with physicality and exercise (the crate was huge enough that she could move around freely while standing at full height). She even scrolled through her biology class notes about the human body on the Google Docs app (she made sure all the files were available offline every time she got out of class).
So now, she waited. The meditation required the most patience. She had to do it often as a child because of her extremely religious family, but she never got the hang of it. Her family members quickly became experts at the peaceful activity, claiming to have seen gods or other worlds while in the quiet state. Her thoughts never stilled, always storming and swirling like the winds of a hurricane. Which is why every time she attempted to make herself feel peace, she couldn't even silence her mind long enough to get in the mood for peace. But this time, she had no choice but to persevere and try her hardest to focus.
That day she sat in the crate, she got comfortable and sat with her legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of the ship's swaying motions. Instead, her mind slowly wandered to the feeling of her body, the different sensations of her environment.
The slow and smooth air flowing in and out of her lungs. The gentle slide of her jeans against her skin. The floral, sweet aroma of her lavender-coconut deodorant. The warm darkness behind her eyelids. The sunny aftertaste of her strawberry-banana protein shake on her tongue. The ship's gentle creaking and moaning sounds rushing against her eardrums. The roughness of her elbows against the smooth cotton of her button-down. The almost gritty rub of the wooden floor against her bare feet.
(She had removed her shoes for the sake of comfort.)
And somewhere in that symphony of sensation, she felt her consciousness become acutely aware of the complex inner workings of the factory that is the human body. She could sense her blood flow through her veins and arteries, meeting in an intimate dance of give and take in her capillaries. She could sense the rising and falling of her various nutrients in her bloodstream. Blood-glucose decreased as her body lessened its energy use while in the meditative state. Meanwhile, she felt sodium and potassium increase to supply her nerves and neurons with sufficient ions for more efficient synapses. She could even feel her hormones alter in response to the change in mental state and function.
She felt her kidneys clear her blood of wastes and try to re-purpose them for her betterment. She felt her muscles relax one by one as her mind expanded to feel more of the body it ruled. She felt the marrow of her bones create faster and faster, pumping more and more blood cells into her body to allow for greater oxygen transport from her lungs to her brain in order to facilitate the new activity. Her breathing deepened, but did not quicken.
She knew now why people loved meditation so much. It made them more aware of their own bodies. In this aspect, in her own way of doing it, she could appreciate — maybe even enjoy — meditation as not just an activity for health, but for her own self-awareness of her body and for her improvement of ability.
Another moment or two passed and out of nowhere, her mind flooded with thoughts and feelings and ideas. It felt like an avalanche of information dumped into her brain. But it didn't overwhelm her. Instead of fear, she experienced awe. The feeling of true meditation had awakened something deeply grounded in her body and at long last, her mind and body connected in this flourishing, terrifying, beautiful rush of sensory information.
She believed the experience was akin to realizing you fell in love with someone for the first time since meeting them. All is well until that moment that you recognize your feelings are much deeper than you originally anticipated and your heart floods with all the emotions.
The same happened to her, but instead of love and heart, it was bodily awareness and brain. But the all-encompassing, powerful nature of the rush is the same.
She breathed softly, sweetly, finally feeling herself live. It's one thing to know you're alive. It's one thing to be told you're alive. It's another thing to feel you're alive. And truly, it is beautiful. She could sense every movement and action her body made with or without her, and her heart lifted with the ecstasy of it all.
But her luck and joy ended there. Because as she was drowning herself in those sensations and breathing normally, some of the sailors had descended into the hull to take an inventory of all the items there, only to hear breathing come from one of the massive, ten- by six- by seven-foot wooden crates.
They each took a route, scanning through the aisles, ears straining to hear every movement and noise besides those of their own. Finally, one of them heard breathing coming from a crate close to the wall of the hull, soft and airy and feminine. He wasn't sure what that sound was. Maybe an animal had gotten in? But no animal he knew of breathed like that. So, he grabbed his two companions, and the three labored to pry open the crate doors.
To their shock and awe, some girl sat in the crate, leaning against some kind of plastic-enclosed cloth packages. White and gold light emanated from her skin, as if the Sun had come down to Earth and sat in this crate. Her eyes, previously screwed shut in focus, shot open at the sound of the men shuffling their feet. The eyes, too, glowed white with an almost inhuman light. The girl gasped for air and scrambled away from them, the light in her eyes dimming and then disappearing to reveal deep, ebony irises. She yelped and tried to shield herself from them, but they only held their hands up calmly, trying to not freak out the girl or themselves.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. Kid, it's alright. Relax, relax. It's fine. Don't scream, please?" pleaded the sailor who'd found her. He walked forward slowly, carefully. "My name is Al, and these guys are my friends Luke and Matthew. We're sailors. How did you get here? What are you? Are you hurt?"
Sanjeevani panicked internally, trying in vain to conceal her raw terror, for her hesitant smiles and shaking hands were all that the sailors could focus on. "I-I...I'm trying to get to France. I work for the Avengers, I think. And I'm not hurt, but…" She coughed, her mind having returned to its non-meditative state, which forced her body back into its regular functioning. She couldn't breathe well in that disgusting, musty air. "I need air…" She coughed again.
The sailors looked at one another and stood up straight. Luke gently reached his hand out to the girl, his eyes aching to adjust to the darkness in the crate in his attempts to find the girl. "Just come with us. We'll figure out some way to help you."
She bit her lips and sniffled, flicking her wide eyes between the three of them. With a quivering hand, Sanjeevani grasped Luke's hand and let him help her out. Before exiting completely, she pulled her backpack over her shoulder and secretly tucked her phone into her back pocket. Luke smiled slowly as she winced at the bright overhead lights. "What's your name, sweetie? We'll try and get you back to-"
The girl curled in on herself, shaking her head quickly. The man noticed her changed state and put his hands up gently. "It's okay, it's okay. We won't send you back. But we need to talk to someone about you. We can't keep you a secret from our superiors; otherwise we'll get in a lot of trouble. Okay?"
At her curt nod, they simultaneously let out sighs of relief, leading the girl up to the Captain's office so they could all work something out. Better to go to him than the intermediates, who really wouldn't understand their dilemma.
Sanjeevani stared at everything around her as if she'd never been in a ship before. Truly, she hadn't. This entire experience felt somewhat like a dream. The sailors directed her with gentle pushes and soft words, trying to not overwhelm her after the weirdness they'd seen. While the young woman gazed at her surroundings with childish awe, the men secretly discussed in French who she was and what would happen to her once they talked to the Captain.
The Captain's office stood at the forefront of the ship, just under the deck. The older man rushed through paperwork at his desk, signing and reading like the Devil himself was helping the Captain finish his work. At hearing the customary three knocks of his subordinates, he called for the four youths awaiting his permission outside to come in. He watched agape as the three young sailors introduced the young woman to him, explaining where they found her.
He frowned deeply, motioning for the four of them to sit in the chairs across from him. With a grunt, he rubbed his temples. "Explain to me exactly what is going on here."
Luke spoke hesitantly. "We were doing inventory, sir. Checking what all was down there and how many people we'd need to help move it off once we reach the docks. I was strolling through an aisle and heard breathing from one of the boxes. It sounded like an animal, but it was too human to be a cat or something like that. I went to check it out, and it sounded actually human. Thinking someone was thrown in there intentionally, we pried it open and found this girl glowing and meditating. We made a lot of noise, so her eyes opened really quick as soon as we had the crate open. Her eyes were glowing too. But we moved, and she got scared and jumped back, trying to get away from us. We slowly got her out, but she didn't tell us much except that she wants to go to France, works for the Avengers, and had a hard time breathing."
The Captain pursed his lips, startling gray eyes glaring into the young woman's face. She squirmed in her seat, looking to Luke for reassurance. At his calm smile, she turned back to the older man, still clearly frightened. "Miss, I hope you know that trespassing on nautical vessels is a criminal offense. This ship is property of the US Military, and as such, civilians are not authorized to be here. If you go back to the mainland, you will be punished severely."
The girl looked down, hugging herself weakly. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break any laws. But I had to get out of there. That city. That country. I need to get away, so this was the easiest."
"Do you at least have any documentation for arrival in France?" the man asked, knowing the answer would likely be no. At the shake of her head, he confirmed his theory. "Alright, we can do some things. First option, you can ride with us to France, where one of our men will help you apply for asylum there. Second option, I can radio a nearby ship that is willing to give you safe passage to France, where you'll need to apply for asylum on your own, or you can be sent back to the States, where you'll have to go through trial for trespassing on Military property."
Sanjeevani looked at the floor, mind sprinting to think of what to do. An idea came to her out of the blue. She locked eyes with the Captain. "Can I suggest a fourth option?"
He huffed. "We'll see. What's your idea?"
"I have certain powers. I can't say why I have them, and I can't tell you my name, but I can definitely help somehow. I have healing abilities. I can reverse any injury, as long as any bullets or outside materials are removed. I can even remove infections from the body. Not genetic diseases, but anything caused by a bacterium, fungus, protist, or virus. In exchange for my safe passage to France and non-reporting of my presence on this ship, I'll heal all your men. All of them. Almost anything they got, I'll heal," promised the young woman.
The Captain's eyes widened. Truly, this seemed like such a good offer. Many of his men had gotten long-lasting injuries that weakened them enough to be a bother, but not enough to keep them from serving. Not to mention, plenty had arrived sick because they had no other source of income. Even his ladies struggled with monthlies and all kinds of health and stress-related issues that none of the doctors solved yet. But if the girl was lying, he'd have a huge case on his hands, as well as many lawsuits. He gave the teen a dark glare. "What's the guarantee that you're not lying to me?"
She smiled a little, almost smirking at his question. "What ails you, Captain?"
The way she worded it, the question almost seemed like a trap. But he had to be sure before helping her. "I have a lot of scarring on my liver. Drank too much as a teen. And my back muscles are constantly stiff, no matter how much physical therapy."
She stood up and walked to his side of the desk. He turned towards her, and she held her hands up. "Can you unbutton your collar or something, please? I need a skin-to-skin connection to work."
Already uncomfortable with her presence, the Captain begrudgingly undid the first three buttons of his coat. She rested her hands on his neck as if holding something precious and fragile. That wasn't untrue. Her thumbs pressed against the pulse-points under his jaws. Her hands began to glow with some kind of holy light, skin giving off fluctuations of white and gold. The Captain gasped at the feeling of buzzing against his neck. The girl's eyes had shut tightly for focus, and the older man could only watch in awe as she did what she promised.
He felt his body change slowly. He couldn't sense his liver, but he could sense his back, which had started to loosen and tighten in slow contractions. Once she removed her hands from his neck and stepped away, the Captain stood up and almost jumped for joy. Not only had the girl freed him of back pain, she somehow healed him enough to make him feel twenty again.
He stared at her in surprise, smiling slowly. "If you can do that, miss, we'd be glad to help you to France." She grinned back at him brightly, curtsying playfully.
"It would be my honor, sir."
Her work began that evening during supper. Of course, everyone was eating much earlier than she ever ate while at home with her- with her people: six o'clock on the dot. She followed Luke and his colleagues to the behemoth mess hall, where half of the sailors sat around long tables, with plates full of chicken and veggies, sipping from tall metal cups: they could only choose between juice, milk, and water.
Sanjeevani immediately regretted existing when Luke banged his hand against the wall beside the door after walking into the mess hall. Everyone whipped around to look at him, and he gave them a cocky grin. "Can I have everyone's attention, please? We have a stowaway aboard. She's kind of special, though. The Captain approved her presence here. In exchange for her safe travels to France, she'll heal us. Kind of has superpowers of some sort. The kid works for the Avengers. So, whoever wants to be healed, line up just beside the door."
Deafening silence.
Painful lack of movement.
Frightening peace.
Sanjeevani whispered to her companion bemusedly, "They need a demonstration." Luke huffed in agreement and stepped closer to her, carefully pulling his collar down far enough to reveal some skin.
Everyone watched uncomfortably. The young woman sighed, breathing deeply to put her brain in the right mentality to focus on healing.
She gingerly cupped his neck like she'd done with the Captain earlier. Again, her thumbs rested on his pulse-points. Luke stiffened at the feeling of someone touching such a vulnerable spot. She murmured, "Just trust me, okay? Please." When his muscles finally relaxed, she resumed her work. She dug into the warm, light feeling inside her and pulled it out once more to heal his burns and scars.
Luke mumbled quietly, "Arthritis in my knees, pneumonia scars, headache." He pouted at her quiet giggle of amusement at the last ailment. "Doctors are supposed to be nice."
She smiled at him sweetly, crooning, "I'm not a doctor. I'm a miracle worker. Big difference."
He rolled his eyes. "Get on with it. You're so dramatic."
She gave an airy laugh and focused again, closing her eyes once more. With one more deep breath in, her hands illuminated, giving off warm light. Luke closed his eyes as well and let the warmth surround him like a blanket. After a few moments of the comforting heat, he felt his knees lose their discomfort. He felt his lungs expand and clear like fresh sponges. He felt his headache simmer away.
Sanjeevani pulled away, smiling softly at his awestruck expression. "Better?" He rubbed his hands together and bent his knees a few times, sighing in deep relief.
He smiled. "Extremely. You probably just made it so I never need a doctor again."
She laughed. "Not really. I didn't turn you into Captain America. I only made sure those specific issues are dealt with. You can still get colds and sickness and shit. I'm a healer, not a goddess. So please still take care of yourself and go to the doctor if necessary. I don't exist to ban death. That's not my job. My job is to fix bodies. That's it. No more, no less. Also, I can't be everywhere at the same time."
Having seen her abilities, some of the seated sailors stood and formed a small line in front of the girl, who grinned widely at Luke. "So now that you're better, get me some dinner, please? Preferably vegetarian. Eggs are fine. My energy's gotta come from somewhere, you know."
Still rolling his eyes at her, Luke strolled away towards the food line to get the new medic some sustenance. Sanjeevani smiled childishly at everyone. "Wow. Five people already? I should make this a business." Matthew smacked the back of her head, shooting a playful warning glare. She stuck her tongue out at him and huffed. "You could be at least somewhat helpful, you know. Maybe get me and my people some chairs? Come on, bro."
The tall man shook his head in exasperation as he sought out a couple of unused stools for the idiotic teen and her patients.
Sanjeevani spent the rest of the day healing and eating, talking to a few people who basically interviewed her about her powers. She explained what little she figured the Avengers wouldn't mind her sharing, like the disowning by her parents, her first meeting with Doctor Strange, and her subsequent assistance to the Avengers' post-war efforts. Minor things. She didn't dare divulge anything about her dimensional travels from her reality to this one, her real name, or even her nation of origin. She couldn't risk her safety like that.
But most of the sailors didn't suspect anything, choosing to simply receive her help and healing without question or doubt.
Some suspected there was more to her story than she had told them, but they didn't interrogate further because Luke's little trio had taken to the young woman like a group of guard dogs protecting their young owner. Some of their fellow sea-goers thought the behavior cute. Others thought it a nuisance and a waste of time on the men's part. Sanjeevani didn't seem to care either way.
The daytime ticked by slowly, each minute an hour, each hour a day. However, there was still movement, unlike the nighttime, which seemed an eternity with each passing minute. The daytime held her joy, her light and love and smiles. But the nighttime held her agony, her darkness and suffering and screams.
It shocked her that no one heard her screams of pain. Not of the body, no. She was healthy as could be. No, her pains existed in her heart.
Every night, she would sleep a few hours with the others in the women's barracks and woke up at exactly one-thirty in the morning, when everyone slept the deepest. She hurried up to the deck, where only the people working the night shift remained alert and awake as sentinels of the ship. She walked up to the very front of the ship and sat down on the hard metal floor, clutching the white railings. And she screamed.
At first, the awake sailors startled and rushed over to see what the problem was. When she explained herself and struggles and her need to mourn, they left her alone from then on, knowing she needed the loneliness.
She would scream and sob and cry like she was mourning the death of a friend, because technically, she was. Her happiness and hope, her only true friends in life, had died that day she was cast out of her family. She didn't speak with anyone else in the family, not feeling welcome whenever she went to their homes in India or in the US. Her only family were her few friends, her immediate family, and her two cousins plus their children. She had no one else. The last bits of her soul and life died away when she was told she didn't belong. So of course she mourned.
Every night, she ascended to the deck with mind ready for pain and body ready for crying. And when she descended below deck once more, she went with mind broken from pain and body weak from crying. But never once did she falter or skip on her mourning. Every night for the fourteen-day journey she wailed her pain into the darkness of the night sky, hoping for some kind of closure or cease to her suffering. She wouldn't find closure there, she knew. But she knew nothing else. Nothing but the heartbroken screams reverberating in her mind and the steady beat of her mother's mrudangam dancing in her heart.
The first night she decided to dance instead of scream was the night she realized she missed the family of hers that tossed her away like refuse. It was also the night she lost her voice and couldn't scream anymore.
She had no anklets. She had no jewelry, nothing to remind her of what she felt like on stage or at home. This night, the wind tore at the ship, rocking it back and forth as the seas swayed to the howling song in the cruel breeze. So she made do with what she had. She tied her hair up in a braid and grabbed her scarf, laying the middle over her shoulder. She pulled it across her body like a purse before looping both ends around her hips once and tying the loose ends together.
Sanjeevani stepped out of the barracks and headed towards the deck, inhaling sharply when the cold wind and rain slapped her in the face. Instead of returning to the warmth of her bed, she stepped forward to the middle of the deck, not backing away from the challenge of dancing during a storm. Oh, her mother would have been so proud, she thought.
Hands pressed together in prayer, she closed her eyes and imagined the first song she'd performed on a stage with her mother as the singer. She felt her body envelop with excited warmth and joy. She hadn't felt this in so long.
She clung to that ecstasy and began the dance, feet thumping in time with an unheard beat and body swaying to an unheard melody. As the winds quickened, her feet moved faster, pressing and carrying her around the front deck with an almost unholy speed. At the sound of her footsteps, some of the sailors awoke quickly, namely Luke and Matthew, who couldn't sleep well that night. They rushed up to the deck, terrified that it was an attack or some kind of major weather issue that no one realized.
Instead, they found their youngest companion whirling around the deck in a dance that they couldn't recognize nor understand. She had closed her eyes too, completely lost in her memories. They wanted to rush forward and stop her, fearful that she would topple over a railing with the violent shoves of the wind and rain. But their fear of experiencing the same was even greater.
Unable to watch the girl get thrown around more and more with the rising rains, Luke sprinted ahead and captured Sanjeevani in a tight hug, trying to get her to look at him. The girl opened her eyes at last and gazed at his face weakly before collapsing against him in a helpless heap.
He carried her down to the infirmary as she cried into his neck and shoulder, both youths soaked from the storms unleashed on the deck. He set her on a bed and tried to get an explanation out of her. She said nothing, simply sobbing pathetically into her hands. Luke threw a look to Matthew, who rushed away to get some scrubs for the girl so she could cry in warmer clothes. In the meantime, Luke dried off her hair with a fresh towel, cooing gently in an attempt to soothe the crying teen.
She accepted his care without protest, but also without words in general.
Luke only received an explanation from Sanjeevani after Matthew had settled down and tried to talk to her as well. She gazed at them with those melancholy doe eyes, and they couldn't help but feel her pain, though unaware of its cause. "You guys know I was disowned. I have nothing left. Nothing at all. The Avengers are nice, but that's it. Nice. They're not friends or family. More like a foster care group. I miss my life. I can never get it back, so I'm mourning. I'm mourning everything I lost when I discovered this healing ability of mine. It hurts. I can help so many people, but no one can help me. Not with these specific things, anyway. It may sound dumb, but really. I have nothing going for me except my powers and my dance. What future do I have when I lost my entire past? What's the point of trying to help all these people when these powers are the reason for my struggle?"
Matthew seemed offended at her words. But it wasn't really offense. It was something else. Disappointment? "So you don't like helping people even though you have the power to do it."
Sanjeevani snarled at him. "Don't ever fucking say that. This isn't about me being a whiny teen. This is about how I have this cursed power over my head. All these people are getting healed and fixed, and I just have to watch on hopelessly as they enjoy the fruits of my struggle and pain. I GOT DISOWNED BECAUSE OF THIS POWER. I should be getting rid of it. But instead, I sit and fix all these people with no way to fix myself. It's unfair!"
Luke held up his hands, trying to calm the two of them. "Guys, please. Relax. Calm down. Please." He turned to his friend, giving the man a strict look. "She's been through a lot. We can't just expect her to follow through with all of our morals and ideals. They don't apply to her the same way." He then switched focus to the young woman, who still seethed with rage. "And you need to think about what you say. Life is always going to be unfair. That's how it is. We can't prevent that. You have to talk carefully about your struggles, or your misunderstandings will get you in trouble, got it?"
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Now both of you just rest. We've only got a few days left until we reach Brittany. Forgive each other and sleep. We all need to just do our jobs. And then you can go your separate ways, understood?" When neither of them responded, he growled lowly. "I said, understood?"
Sanjeevani huffed out a quiet, "Yes, sir," as Matthew nodded begrudgingly. Luke hummed in approval and told Matthew to head back to the barracks because he needed to ask the 'kiddo' something in private. The taller man squinted at his colleague.
Matthew was something of an overprotective brother to all the ladies on the ship. No matter who he traveled with, he always kept an eye out for the women, trying to protect them like he protected his nieces and daughter back home in California. He didn't trust anyone with young women, no matter the gender or age of the other person. He should have trust in his friends, but he couldn't take a chance. It was weird to many, but not to him, who was raised in a family that believed in protecting the vulnerable (kids, women, elderly, sick) no matter how unfamiliar or different from him. After what happened to his aunt when she was this kid's age…he couldn't take any chances with others' safety.
The young woman noticed Matthew's expression and tried to give him a sincere, relaxed look. She may have just gotten into an argument with him, but she always appreciated a protective nature in her friends and acquaintances. When he still didn't relax, she sat up on her knees and held her arms out to him.
Lanky and uncoordinated as he is, the man stepped forward and enfolded the young girl in a hug, pressing her face to his neck. She hummed and let herself lean into his warm embrace. They didn't say anything, only communicating through their eyes. Sanjeevani pulled back a few inches to look the man in the face and reassure him. At his softening looks, she smiled and kissed his cheek sweetly, pressing her other hand to his opposite cheek. He returned the genuine grin and walked back to the male barracks.
Luke smiled and watched her get comfortable in the bed again. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. "Who are you?"
She groaned. "I can't tell you, man."
He frowned, taking her hand. "Why not?"
Her eyes narrowed and gazed right into his face. No hesitation, no anger, no outright emotion, she explained with the kindest tone, "Some things just aren't meant for normal ears, Luke. There are parts of my life that no one can know unless they plan to die with me." Her intense words had the poor man shivering and looking away, as if a cold blast of air just flushed through the room.
He breathed slowly. "Will you at least tell me your real name? I know it's not Angie."
She smiled sadly. "Nope. You'll know once I rejoin the Avengers, okay?"
Luke rubbed his face. "You don't trust me."
To his surprise, the girl recoiled with a cold scowl. "Excuse me? You've known me for all of almost two weeks."
He reversed a moment. "Whoa, hold on. I mean, like, you healed us. You saw into our souls and stuff. I thought we were like, close friends." Sanjeevani stared at him like he'd grown a third arm from his neck.
"What do you think I can do?"
"What?"
She let out a hysterical laugh. Thankfully, everyone in the ship was healed at that point, so the infirmary was abandoned. "Dude, oh my god. Luke, I'm not a magician. I can only heal. I only use people's natural bodily healing processes to fix their injuries and organs. I don't use magic."
His face inflamed, and he threw his hands up to cover his eyes. "Oh god. I just humiliated myself for eternity, didn't I?"
She giggled. "Kinda, yeah." Her hand landed gently on his shoulder. "But it's fine. Just chill. I've embarrassed myself plenty." The young man peeked at his female companion through the grates of his fingers. After calming down, he smiled tiredly.
"So when are you going back to the Avengers?"
Sanjeevani hummed whimsically, eyes gazing distantly. "After I've made peace with myself. Until then. I'll be in Europe, exploring, learning, trying to teach myself to be the best me possible."
"Sounds pretty wise for someone who's only just started college," commented the elder of the two.
She winked. "You learn a lot of things when you're in emotional pain all the time."
His laugh rang through the empty space. "You should have gone into writing or theater, not crime-fighting."
Her smile melted, and she curled in on herself like an angry armadillo, but he couldn't understand why. She scowled before shaking her head to rid herself of the anger. The guy wouldn't know why she acted like that. He didn't deserve the lecture she wanted to give him. So, she sighed and rubbed his shoulder. "Just get to bed, yeah? We'll talk in the morning."
With one last uneasy gaze to his female friend, Luke gave her a hug and rushed away to the barracks.
Too tired to continue mourning, Sanjeevani knocked out almost immediately and only woke up at the sound of the Captain's voice on the intercom calling for everyone to get to work. She clambered out of bed, sprinting to the ladies' showers after almost toppling to the floor in her search for her toothbrush and toothpaste, which actually laid hidden at the bottom of her backpack. The other women chuckled and greeted her, amused at the young girl's frantic daylight disposition. She eventually slowed down and waited patiently for her turn, smiling sheepishly when some of the older girls giggled at her.
The oldest of the female sailors on the ship smiled dimly at the girl as per her usual strict mannerism. The girl returned the small smile with a bright, childish grin. Truly, in her week and four days so far of healing and working on the ship, Sanjeevani's favorite patient was the strong mother of five that basically ran the women's barracks.
The woman had a myriad of issues ranging from extreme rheumatoid arthritis to various bodily scars from surgery (including Cesarean and mastectomy), and severe brain damage to the right temporal lobe and loss of hearing because of an accident involving hazardous use of a firearm. The woman, who referred to herself as Mrs. Baxter, never elaborated on the accident, leaving the girl to ponder on what had happened to the woman that would cause such a peculiar injury to the brain.
However, despite the many issues, Mrs. Baxter never once complained during the healing process, accepting the help obediently and calmly. She would tell of pain, but in the same breath claimed that the pain wasn't unbearable and that Sanjeevani should continue as normal.
The young woman would hesitate at those words, unsure of what to do, but eventually carried on with great care and gentleness so as to not cause further pain or harm to the woman. After a day or two of healing sessions, Mrs. Baxter had returned to full health, arthritis eliminated, scars repaired, tissue restored (in the case of the mastectomy), brain damage reversed, and hearing slowly redeveloping. Mrs. Baxter thought the healer girl a kind of miracle worker, undoing years of damage and suffering to bring the sailors back to full capacity, and the two became close friends of few words.
Sanjeevani pushed herself to finish readying herself within twenty-five minutes. To her excitement, she got ready in twenty minutes on the dot. She sprinted to the mess hall and slid in with a hazardous screech of her shoes rubbing against the floor.
The sailors burst into loud laughter at her entrance, a couple of them inviting her to their respective table of friends. Instead of sitting with her usual companions Luke and Matthew, the girl decided to join a group she'd never really talked to often. Their youngest had held his hand out to motion her towards them. With a giggle of exhaustion and amusement, Sanjeevani plopped herself down on the metal bench besides the guy her age. The others looked like giants, all height and bulk and no lack of muscle.
They gazed down at her coldly, but softened when their youngest started speaking to her animatedly. She smiled brightly at him, the two hugging as if they had been close friends their entire lives.
"Oh, speaking of your health, how's the OCD these days? Any better at all?" she probed. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders while wrapping an arm around hers.
He gave a slow, sad smile. "What do I tell ya, doll? It ain't goin' nowhere. My ma and pa have done all they could. All the ther'py and medication I could ever want. Nothin' works. Not in my case, at least. Don't worry your little head about it. I'll just deal. Gotta do what we gotta do, right? That's just how the Lord creates us sometimes." By the end of his explanation, the poor youth's shoulders had slumped in disappointment while his eyes dimmed like a light was being turned off slowly. He tried to smile wider, but his attempt at faking contentment didn't work on her.
She patted his hand. "I mean…the brain is part of the body too. Most, if not all, mental disorders come from an imbalance of neurotransmitters in the brain. I can try and see if I can find a way to bring your neurotransmitters back to stable levels. I haven't ever done brain healing yet, so this may take some time since I'm learning on my own."
"Girl, come on. You got other people to heal and help. We always get injured. You got stuff to do. Don't waste time on-" the young man ceased his statement at noticing her glare.
Through clenched teeth and fiery eyes, she murmured "No human is a waste of time. You aren't, and no one else is. Martin, your disorder keeps you from even being able to focus on your work! That's bad for you, not me! Please just let me try. Let me try. It's worse if I give up now. At least if I try, I can say that I worked my hardest. But if I give up without doing anything, I've failed."
The two locked eyes for a few seconds, and then both smiled. Martin nodded, and Sanjeevani let out a happy laugh, throwing her head back from joy. The two hugged tightly, faces pressed into shoulders to stop the tears. Martin pulled back and pinched her cheek, grinning. "If you weren't so mysterious about your past, I would have asked my family to adopt you by now, sugar."
With a playful snort, she punched his arm. "Oh hush. Just say you wanna keep in touch, darling. Don't do this whole adoption shtick. Seriously, it's beneath you."
The giant woman to Sanjeevani's right huffed a little laugh. "'Beneath you?' What is this, Hamlet?"
"Don't mention Hamlet around me. Worst play ever. Too many theories about it," complained the super-powered teen.
Martin snickered. "You don't like it because it has too many theories?"
She pouted, whining loudly, "It's exhausting, okay?! Too much work to think about all those crazy ideas. I just wanna read and be at peace without burning my brain trying to understand all these complex theories that have nothing to do with my enjoying the book. Seriously, too much to ask?"
The woman laughed bawdily, patting the girl's back just hard enough to leave a mark. "You're funny. I like you."
Sanjeevani grinned, snarking in reply, "That's what your girlfriend said last night when she slept over in my bunk." Collective hisses of mockery and oohing at the table.
The woman's eyes twinkled just a bit too much. "Funny, considering the fact that not even one person can fit on those bunks. These jokes are beneath you, kid." Screaming laughter from everyone at that table. Sanjeevani even fell backwards onto the metal floor with a hard thud. Frozen silence. And then more screaming laughter. The amusement ended when the Captain's voice thundered over the intercom in an announcement that they would be speeding ahead to reach the port by the end of the day due to weather concerns.
They all glanced at one another in slight surprise before hurriedly finishing breakfast to return to our posts. Sanjeevani ran up to the infirmary to start her work for the day.
She grabbed the black binder that contained records of when each patient came in and left, what their ailments were, and what their treatment was. She plopped herself down at the center of the large space full of hospital beds, privacy curtains, and doctors' desks. A few of the nurses and doctors were handling patients who were already there. Slight animosity existed between the young teen and the medical staff because of her quick healing abilities, but it ended when they realized she would leave today. They would still have work left to do.
People slowly came in with new injuries or ailments, and Sanjeevani greeted them with soft smiles, playful jokes, and gentle hands. It was no secret that many of the sailors preferred her to the doctors. Not just for the healing, which — for obvious reasons — was her specialty. Instead, they thought her easier to talk to, more personable, less angry at their pain.
But she didn't approve of that. So, like she always did, Sanjeevani explained to her current patient why they shouldn't hate on the doctors. "You guys think I'm nice because I'm younger and a better person. That's really mean to your docs who work with you guys all the time. I'm only nice because I don't know the struggles and suffering associated with healing people during battle. They have it so hard, trying to fix patients' injuries and soothe them despite their own wounds. They have to listen to all your problems and figure out ways to help you all quickly and efficiently without burning money. I don't need to worry about that. I use myself to heal. My own body. I'm just a more convenient and easy balm to soothe your wounds. I only need food and water to keep doing my work. But they don't have my abilities. They gotta use their skills and minds to help you. That's way harder. Not to mention, I won't always be here. They will. Respect them. Talk to them. Ask what they need instead of what you need. Offer a helping hand, and I bet you, they'll be much less thorny, okay?"
The thirty-something man simply huffed and walked away. Groaning, she threw her hands to her face and shook her head. "What does it take to get through to these people?"
"Chicken strips," joked the nurse, who was trying to learn Vine culture to get along with the younger woman.
Sanjeevani gave her dead stare. "Martha, I swear to god." The woman only laughed, patting the girl's head on her way to the water dispenser at the infirmary entrance. Anji grumbled, filling in info for the patient who just left.
The rest of the day, she drowned herself in her work, not wanting to provoke the imminent anxiety of being in a country where her only resources were the little Italian she spoke, her phone, and internet cafes. She really had no semblance of a clue as to what her next steps needed to be. At dinner time, Matthew led her back to the Captain's office to talk with the man about what they would do once the ship reached port-side.
Again, she sat in the middle of the three chairs across from the Captain, her two friends sitting on either side of her. Though this time, the Captain didn't glare her half to Hell.
With a calm smile, he pulled out a manila file of papers. "We got you some application papers needed to file for asylum. We set you up with a PADA agent, who helps asylum-seekers. You fill out this application, and we'll have someone drive you to the PADA location. They'll take care of things from there, but I'll just explain the process real quick."
Sanjeevani grew more alert, eyes focusing in on the man's face as her mind cleared to better process what she would hear. "After the application gets in, you go to the police prefecture within ten days and tell your story and then get the real application for asylum, which is called an OFPRA application. The OFPRA organization will determine if you're eligible for asylum."
She bit her lip. "And if I'm not?"
"You might be eligible for subsidiary protection, which means you're not exactly a refugee from a whole country's situation, but you're seeking protection for your own life and well-being. Or, you may be refused altogether, which means you'll have to appeal with the CDNA courts. For now, just fill out this form and get ready for setting foot on land again. We'll go from there."
Her smile lit up the room. "Thank you so much, Captain! Thank you!" The old man shook his head.
"Thank you, child. You healed me, my boys, and my girls. If I hadn't seen you do your thing up close, I would call you a miracle worker. Thank you. Go fill that out. Luke, stay with her for any translating stuff, lad."
The young sailor stood up, saluting the superior. "Yes sir. Come on, girl." Sanjeevani bounded after the man as he quickly headed away to the library/book-keeping area of the Captain's section. After saluting, Matthew hurried after the two.
The Captain sighed lowly as he watched the three youngsters sprint away. "Lord knows what that girl is gonna do when she reaches France. She's all alone over there. Hopefully someone will come for her soon, or else the UN will."
Sanjeevani did fill out the form quickly, correctly, and efficiently. She did prepare herself to get on land, packing her items and making sure everything was in its place. She did thank and say her goodbyes to everyone she wouldn't ever see after that day. But she also had a panic attack when one of her friends informed her that the ship would reach port in an hour.
It took a shot of morphine provided by one of the doctors, and an extensive amount of consoling and comforting from Matthew, Luke, and Mrs. Baxter to calm her down.
The morphine only slowed her down a little bit, not putting her to sleep at all. At the sailors' shock, she explained her nightly routine of editing and revising and manipulating her body's systems to ensure that she had the highest bodily efficiency to allow for the best work every morning. A doctor asked to study her, and the four's collective glares sent the older woman running away.
Sanjeevani clung to her friends until the ship's horn resounded throughout the massive vessel. She gazed at them, wide eyes and quivering lips and tearful looks. They walked her out of the ship together after taking care of their responsibilities. They themselves drove her down to the PADA to get the application submitted.
Life took a breath of fresh air for the young woman, who hesitantly took her first steps down the ramp. With Mrs. Baxter holding one hand, Matthew holding the other, and her backpack slung over her shoulders, Sanjeevani gently laid her feet down on the ground. She did nearly topple over from the sudden change in weight distribution (being on water is much less stable than being on land, obviously), but her friends caught her before she cracked her skull open on the concrete.
They walked out to the unloading area, where a sleek black car waited for them. Luke stepped forward first, opening the door before looking at the other three gently. Matthew encouraged Sanjeevani forward after Mrs. Baxter went in first. The older three members of the group assumed the young woman would prefer to be in the middle, where they could coddle and comfort her while journeying to the PADA office. Their assumption proved correct, when Sanjeevani curled against the elder woman after getting settled on the white leather seats. Luke got comfortable on the girl's right side, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders. She accepted the affections with soft sniffles.
Matthew had to sit in front due to his height, but otherwise, he would have sat back there too, no matter the momentary discomfort. The girl drowned herself in the others' stories of their trips to the City of Love and Lights. Mrs. Baxter's Paris visit was quite romantic, and surprisingly, Matthew's was quite rowdy and bold. Quite a contrast to his calm and aloof personality, Sanjeevani thought.
She didn't remember much of the drive there, mostly recalling the warm looks and gentle smiles of her friends who took time away from their duties to get her settled there safely. Even the arrival of the destination and the entrance inside passed by her mind like a blur.
Her friends stood at the door and said goodbye, telling her to be brave, promising to come to her aid if she needed them, giving her their phone numbers to keep in touch.
And they stood there until she couldn't see them anymore. She didn't know much French, only basic phrases and statements. She cautiously entered the large building, looking around for someone who could help her. Finding no one, she tried to follow the signs or understand what they meant with the little bit of general cognate-based French knowledge she had. It didn't help.
Finally, a security guard noticed her plight and, with a slightly sour expression and heavily-accented English, guided her to the lobby.
Sanjeevani tread lightly, making sure she stayed within her bounds as she walked, not daring to move away from the narrow path that she created for herself to avoid making big movements that would bring unwanted attention. She tried to make as little noise as possible and tried to walk as little as possible so she wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb. Another security guard in the lobby showed her where to sit, giving the young girl a scowling once-over before returning to her duty.
The teen sat in a chair at the corner of the large square of chairs in the middle of the room. Almost an hour later, an agent with white hair, blue eyes, bifocals, and wrinkled smile opened a wooden door across from her and called her name in a thick French accent. Shivering like a newborn fawn, the girl stood and followed the grey-suited old man through a complex net of hallways and doors to reach his office. A young woman in an impeccable black pencil skirt and white blouse stood next to the man's desk. Her hair lay over her shoulder in flowing curls, while her nimble, perfectly manicured hands clasped behind her back.
She suggested the girl sit in a comfortable-looking sofa positioned across from the agent's dark, looming leather seat. The young woman, Helena, spoke in silky smooth English, her French lilt peeking through the words. The man began to speak, eyes curiously gazing at the young teen. The woman translated, "What is your purpose for seeking asylum here in France?"
And Sanjeevani launched into her story, leaving out the right details like dimensional travel and the Avengers, while including her parents and the abuse she faced.
The man sat back in his seat as Helena explained what she was told, his mouth agape and pupils dilated. The interpreter smiled a bit when he asked her something. She looked at Sanjeevani with amusement. "He asks you to demonstrate your abilities."
The girl stood up, pushing her chair back a little. She adjusted her dark blue hoodie, looking up at the perfect woman. "Do you have any health issues that bother you?"
Helena raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "My feet have several fractures in them after an accident during a dance lesson. I teach ballet, and this is my side job. I need the money, but can't dance well anymore, so this interpretation work has become my primary source of income."
The girl sighed, nodding. "I get you. I dance Indian classical. Any kind of classical dance from any county really messes with your health. I have a lot of misplaced bones in my feet because they keep popping out of position." Helena hissed in sympathy, nodding her head.
Sanjeevani held out both her hands, smiling as the older woman laid her hands in the teen's palms. Again, her hands began to illuminate with gentle white and green, the colors racing away from her skin as if the girl were the sun, giving the world her warmth and light. Helena gasped, taking a step back, but returning to her original position at the gentle tugging feeling in her joints. In what felt like seconds, Helena felt her feet return to their usual health and condition, no discomfort or pain ailing her as she took quick steps around the room after the teen released her hands.
Sanjeevani smiled. "Good demonstration?" Helena hugged her neck tightly, nodding.
"The best."
The two hugged and smiled at one another. Sanjeevani plopped down in her seat, confidence slowly returning to her as Helena explained to the agent what had just occurred. The agent seemed to experience every kind of emotion at that moment, and by the end of it, he appeared exhausted beyond belief. He explained something to Helena, who said, "He says he wants to call the UN and ask what to do with you. Is that okay?" The girl, suddenly having lost all her confidence again, shook her head. "Okay. Then what do you want to do next? We have to tell someone. This is an extraordinary case. It's not something that can go through the asylum process simply."
"Is there any way we can keep all this confidential and go through the system as normal? I don't want any international attention at all."
Helena groaned, but conveyed the idea to the agent, who nodded in agreement.
By the end of the conversation, Sanjeevani and the agent came to a consensus. Her file would bypass the intermediate steps and go straight to the police prefecture, and she would fill out the OFPRA form, and then her case would undergo evaluation for asylum within the next three days to avoid suspicion or detection by other countries.
As for housing, the new asylum-seeker would live in a homeless shelter until she found a more stable residence later on. And food? Well, they didn't discuss that, but their overall message implied, 'Go figure that shit out on your own. You're nineteen, for fuck's sake.'
And now? She was off to get a taxi to the police prefecture. She just wanted to go there, get her shit done, and find someplace to sleep for the night. Living was exhausting as it is. This was too much. But she had to keep going. She hadn't even begun her journey. Her whole future was waiting for her. She wasn't about to let herself down. Not now. Not until she proved to herself that she was at least worthy of a happy life.
So, she pushed through. She ignored the cold looks of the police officers waiting outside the prefecture. She ignored the receptionist's obvious disgust and irritation. She ignored the chief's disgruntled, disguised disapproval of her presence. She focused in on obtaining and completing the OFPRA form, no matter how much those expressions hurt. No matter how painful those memories of her home city's hatred of her. No matter how heartbreaking the thought that in any place she went, just her appearance garnered disgust and spite from those around her.
Tears blurring her sight, she completed the form and handed it off to the appropriate person, asking the translator to tell the officer all that the PADA agent told her.
She avoided the officer's eyes and hurried away when he dismissed her, saying he would send off the case today and get the OFPRA decision to her by the end of tomorrow via the email she listed on the application.
So, she went into the streets again. Life began anew, but with the same aspects. The same anger towards the people who cast her out. The same pain at having been rejected by her own loved ones. The same helplessness to her imminent depression and suffering. The same resignation to the Universe's decisions on her life and how she will survive in this terrifyingly beautiful new home.