Chapter 3
Sitting in that chair, I started to wonder about exactly what I had gotten myself into. Why did I ever agree to this? This girl is more trouble than even I had thought she could be. I've been here just a few minutes, and already she's gotten an almost fatal injury, and she stained my robe!" I mumbled into my hands. Looking up at her, I made sure she was OK, and then resigned myself to the fact that this was how things were going to be. It was going to be difficult, and things were only going to get worse from that point onward.
I chuckled, trying to think about what my professor would say if he heard me grumbling about getting my robe dirty. He'd kill me. Just picturing his sour looking face made me want to chuckle. But I would rather see that face every day, than have to face the daughter of God without any idea of what to do.
I looked at the book in my lap, absently scanning the pages, picking up phrases here and there. I sighed. She had really scared me for a moment. I thought I'd been too late to help her. I was lucky to have arrived when I did. It wasn't just her that I was concerned about. She would probably be just fine in a few days or so. But what would have happened to me if I hadn't reached her in time? She was the last savior. And if something was to happen to her under my watch, I could lose everything.
Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl!" I muttered, annoyed that I'd been tossed into this situation without any of the proper training. I wasn't ready for any of the stuff I knew I would have to face in order to protect her, and I was terrified of failing my mission.
Flipping through the pages, I tried once more to get into the story of Hope's life, but I had never really been one for biographies. I knew I'd have to read it because I' have to have a good background on here to be able to convince her that I was real.
Now, most people don't actually meet their angels in real life. It's always been against the rules, except in very special cases. A good portion of the charges angels watched over just felt a strange sort of presence about themselves at one time or another. Perhaps the steady hands of a loved one guiding them out of harms way, or the whispering of an answer in the ear of a charge. Most people seemed to either think ghosts or luck was at work. But ghosts don't exist, and it happens with too much purpose for it to be considered luck. That was simply an angel, watching over a charge.
I knew Hope was a special case. She wasn't going to lead a normal life. Just believing in God and in angels wasn't going to be enough to save her. She would need me to actively protect her, and I'd have to make myself known to her in order to watch over her.
As my eyes quickly skimmed Hope's life story, I came across things that surprised me. She hadn't had an easy life. Se was removed from her immediate biological family, but from just skimming, I didn't know the specifics of it.
I stopped reading. God had sent this child into the world to fend for herself. "A merciful God", I mumbled. "What kind of God takes a child's family away from her?" I shook my head and rolled my eyes, remembering the excuse earthbound humans gave throughout their lives for things that went wrong. "God has a plan," people always remarked, as if that would right all the wrongs of this world. Nothing was that simple. God had a plan for his earthly children, that much was true. But sometimes it seemed to me as if the very people he wanted to save, were the people he was sacrificing.
I closed the book, turning down a corner to mark my place, and put the book face down on the nightstand. I raised myself from the seat once more, and walked over to where the girl slept. Her long wavy mane lay flowing around her face, her cheeks still a light shade of red, and they were warm to the touch.
I smiled, looking at her long lashes and little draw mouth. She looked so peaceful, just lying there, sleeping, not a care in the world. She had no idea of the tasks that lay before her as the last savior. She didn't even realize yet that she was the daughter of God. She had such an important role for such a young woman, it seemed to me, too large to burden her with. But I had no choice. She was the chosen one.
Thinking about everything this girl was going to go through, I flinched, trying once more to understand what God was thinking when he sent me to tell a child that she was the leader of her people, the daughter of our Father in Heaven. What was left of her childhood was about to be ripped away from her, and she'd never be able to go back to being just a normal girl. It wasn't fair, she was just a child. Could she handle the responsibility before her?
That one thought ran through my mind again and again, making me question my own abilities for the millionth time that night. Would I be able to take care of my charge? Could I handle the burden of my own responsibility? Or would I break, forever and outcast of Heaven, having upset the balance of power betwixt Heaven and hell? I shuddered. I had no choice. I had to protect her. The fate of the world depended on we two; a child and a renegade angel.
I sat on the edge of her bed, just staring at her. She seemed to be healed somewhat. At least well enough that she would not stir, the only sound being her quiet sighing as she slept, small, warm, breathy rivers of air flowing from her gentle lips as her chest slowly rose and fell. I tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear, and for a moment I could have sworn that she looked exactly like someone I used to know.
I looked around her room trying to gain knowledge about her from her surroundings. Her bedroom was painted a pale yellow, but the whole room couldn't have been more than maybe 14 feet by 16 feet. As I kicked off my sandals, I let my bare feet scarcely scraping across her light crème colored rug, feeling its fluffy texture. Moonlight shone through her window onto that patch of rug and I watched as my dangling feet cast a long shadow. He r room had three windows in it, one right over her bed, and two on her left wall, facing what appeared to be woods. Outside the first of the two windows was a tree, with little wooden slats attached to it. I got up to see what on earth they could be when I realized that it was a make shift ladder. She must climb up there often. I took out my little notepad and wrote down, "likes to be alone". How the heck does she get out this window? I wondered, trying to imagine even someone as thin as her getting through the narrow window. I tried to raise the window to let air in, and found that it only went up half way. Grunting and groaning, I continued to push on the window, but something was keeping it from extending further. Feeling sweat drip on my neck, I let go, and heard a clicking noise. And then I realized how she got out; if you take pressure off the window, little notches at the top click, and you can extend the frame all the way up.
I grumbled to myself about the energy I had wasted, and plunked myself into a comfy little blue chair right near the window, throwing the little yellow throw pillow on the floor. The matching plush chair was directly across from me, and I placed my feet upon it, attempting to relax. Between the two seats was an oak bookcase and I stared at it, hoping the book bindings would give me a clue as to what her actual personality was like. Generally people like authors who reflect their interests. The top shelf was entirely Shakespeare and the Chicken Soup for the Soul series; not a logical mix, but it definitely showed an appreciation for poetry and short works. I scribbled that down in my little book with my feather pen, hoping it would come in handy later. On the opposite wall were pictures of people who I assumed must be her friends, but there were no pictures of her and a significant other. There were pictures of her someone who must have been her grandpa, and other pictures of a boy with pale kin and curly black hair holding a brunette girl with freckles and a dog on a dock overlooking some body of water. The picture looked old, but it was still in color, and I realized they were probably her parents. The pictures were hung over an oak desk, on which rested a black laptop and a small blue desk lamp. Her desk was pretty orderly, and I got a kick out of the mug she had on her desk which held an odd assortment of pencils and pens. The mug was misshapen and almost crushed- looking, and read "This was a normal mug this morning…then someone bugged me." I laughed as I cupped the mug in my hands. She obviously had a temper, but a relatively good sense of humor as well. If my assumptions were correct, she could prove to be quite a handful.
On the wall opposite her bed was a dresser and mirror. Other than that, there was little else to go through in her room. I sat down I my seat, preparing to take a short nap when all of a sudden I heard her screaming in her sleep. My eyes startled awake, afraid of what they'd find.
I chuckled, trying to think about what my professor would say if he heard me grumbling about getting my robe dirty. He'd kill me. Just picturing his sour looking face made me want to chuckle. But I would rather see that face every day, than have to face the daughter of God without any idea of what to do.
I looked at the book in my lap, absently scanning the pages, picking up phrases here and there. I sighed. She had really scared me for a moment. I thought I'd been too late to help her. I was lucky to have arrived when I did. It wasn't just her that I was concerned about. She would probably be just fine in a few days or so. But what would have happened to me if I hadn't reached her in time? She was the last savior. And if something was to happen to her under my watch, I could lose everything.
Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl!" I muttered, annoyed that I'd been tossed into this situation without any of the proper training. I wasn't ready for any of the stuff I knew I would have to face in order to protect her, and I was terrified of failing my mission.
Flipping through the pages, I tried once more to get into the story of Hope's life, but I had never really been one for biographies. I knew I'd have to read it because I' have to have a good background on here to be able to convince her that I was real.
Now, most people don't actually meet their angels in real life. It's always been against the rules, except in very special cases. A good portion of the charges angels watched over just felt a strange sort of presence about themselves at one time or another. Perhaps the steady hands of a loved one guiding them out of harms way, or the whispering of an answer in the ear of a charge. Most people seemed to either think ghosts or luck was at work. But ghosts don't exist, and it happens with too much purpose for it to be considered luck. That was simply an angel, watching over a charge.
I knew Hope was a special case. She wasn't going to lead a normal life. Just believing in God and in angels wasn't going to be enough to save her. She would need me to actively protect her, and I'd have to make myself known to her in order to watch over her.
As my eyes quickly skimmed Hope's life story, I came across things that surprised me. She hadn't had an easy life. Se was removed from her immediate biological family, but from just skimming, I didn't know the specifics of it.
I stopped reading. God had sent this child into the world to fend for herself. "A merciful God", I mumbled. "What kind of God takes a child's family away from her?" I shook my head and rolled my eyes, remembering the excuse earthbound humans gave throughout their lives for things that went wrong. "God has a plan," people always remarked, as if that would right all the wrongs of this world. Nothing was that simple. God had a plan for his earthly children, that much was true. But sometimes it seemed to me as if the very people he wanted to save, were the people he was sacrificing.
I closed the book, turning down a corner to mark my place, and put the book face down on the nightstand. I raised myself from the seat once more, and walked over to where the girl slept. Her long wavy mane lay flowing around her face, her cheeks still a light shade of red, and they were warm to the touch.
I smiled, looking at her long lashes and little draw mouth. She looked so peaceful, just lying there, sleeping, not a care in the world. She had no idea of the tasks that lay before her as the last savior. She didn't even realize yet that she was the daughter of God. She had such an important role for such a young woman, it seemed to me, too large to burden her with. But I had no choice. She was the chosen one.
Thinking about everything this girl was going to go through, I flinched, trying once more to understand what God was thinking when he sent me to tell a child that she was the leader of her people, the daughter of our Father in Heaven. What was left of her childhood was about to be ripped away from her, and she'd never be able to go back to being just a normal girl. It wasn't fair, she was just a child. Could she handle the responsibility before her?
That one thought ran through my mind again and again, making me question my own abilities for the millionth time that night. Would I be able to take care of my charge? Could I handle the burden of my own responsibility? Or would I break, forever and outcast of Heaven, having upset the balance of power betwixt Heaven and hell? I shuddered. I had no choice. I had to protect her. The fate of the world depended on we two; a child and a renegade angel.
I sat on the edge of her bed, just staring at her. She seemed to be healed somewhat. At least well enough that she would not stir, the only sound being her quiet sighing as she slept, small, warm, breathy rivers of air flowing from her gentle lips as her chest slowly rose and fell. I tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear, and for a moment I could have sworn that she looked exactly like someone I used to know.
I looked around her room trying to gain knowledge about her from her surroundings. Her bedroom was painted a pale yellow, but the whole room couldn't have been more than maybe 14 feet by 16 feet. As I kicked off my sandals, I let my bare feet scarcely scraping across her light crème colored rug, feeling its fluffy texture. Moonlight shone through her window onto that patch of rug and I watched as my dangling feet cast a long shadow. He r room had three windows in it, one right over her bed, and two on her left wall, facing what appeared to be woods. Outside the first of the two windows was a tree, with little wooden slats attached to it. I got up to see what on earth they could be when I realized that it was a make shift ladder. She must climb up there often. I took out my little notepad and wrote down, "likes to be alone". How the heck does she get out this window? I wondered, trying to imagine even someone as thin as her getting through the narrow window. I tried to raise the window to let air in, and found that it only went up half way. Grunting and groaning, I continued to push on the window, but something was keeping it from extending further. Feeling sweat drip on my neck, I let go, and heard a clicking noise. And then I realized how she got out; if you take pressure off the window, little notches at the top click, and you can extend the frame all the way up.
I grumbled to myself about the energy I had wasted, and plunked myself into a comfy little blue chair right near the window, throwing the little yellow throw pillow on the floor. The matching plush chair was directly across from me, and I placed my feet upon it, attempting to relax. Between the two seats was an oak bookcase and I stared at it, hoping the book bindings would give me a clue as to what her actual personality was like. Generally people like authors who reflect their interests. The top shelf was entirely Shakespeare and the Chicken Soup for the Soul series; not a logical mix, but it definitely showed an appreciation for poetry and short works. I scribbled that down in my little book with my feather pen, hoping it would come in handy later. On the opposite wall were pictures of people who I assumed must be her friends, but there were no pictures of her and a significant other. There were pictures of her someone who must have been her grandpa, and other pictures of a boy with pale kin and curly black hair holding a brunette girl with freckles and a dog on a dock overlooking some body of water. The picture looked old, but it was still in color, and I realized they were probably her parents. The pictures were hung over an oak desk, on which rested a black laptop and a small blue desk lamp. Her desk was pretty orderly, and I got a kick out of the mug she had on her desk which held an odd assortment of pencils and pens. The mug was misshapen and almost crushed- looking, and read "This was a normal mug this morning…then someone bugged me." I laughed as I cupped the mug in my hands. She obviously had a temper, but a relatively good sense of humor as well. If my assumptions were correct, she could prove to be quite a handful.
On the wall opposite her bed was a dresser and mirror. Other than that, there was little else to go through in her room. I sat down I my seat, preparing to take a short nap when all of a sudden I heard her screaming in her sleep. My eyes startled awake, afraid of what they'd find.