Christopher lay crumpled in the confessional chamber, grasping desperately at the sides of her head, keeping her eyes far from the cross on the other side of the room. What had just happened to her… What was she?
"Oh Father, our Lord," she whispered to the empty room, tears rolling down her face and falling onto the rough carpet of the room. "What did I ever do wrong? Why must I be so cursed?"
"What happened?" A kind male voice asked as she heard someone step into the other side of the chamber, behind the screen.
Surprised, Christopher looked around until she found the source of the voice, the young man's face hidden by the thick wood screen to her left.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly, her voice hoarse from crying.
"I am Father Remington, a friend of Sister Rosette and Chrono… What were you crying about?" he replied gently as the wood groaned. He was leaning against the thin oak siding, covering his eyes with gloved hands.
"My own wretched body…"
"Your what?" Father Remington suddenly looked over, worried that the girl might try to do something drastic.
"When I was born… they wished nothing but death upon me and it still hasn't changed. I was born with sins I can't repent for. I bleed, I die in holy places…" she was soon sobbing, crumpled on the floor, her skirt folding around her messily.
"Why is that?" he then replied, intrigued, wondering about this odd girl.
"Because… I don't know… forgive father for the sins I have done…"
"You… are forgiven my child," Father Remington replied, his voice honestly sincere. Oh how did he wish this poor girl's suffering would end, he thought as he closed his eyes, listening to her sob herself to a quiet slumber…
Chrono groaned as he quickly carried Eamon to his room as the young man seemed to get heavier as he took each step before he finally reached the room and grasped the brass knob. Deftly, he turned it and threw the cheap door open. After he placed Eamon onto the thin cotton filled mattress and made his way out and slammed the door shut.
"Israfel!" a voice cried out and Eamon spun around quickly to see a young woman. She was kneeling down in pale green grass, the golden sunlight shining against her skin that was as pale as alabaster, her lips standing out like garnets.
"Maria," he whispered breathlessly, looking at the woman like she was a ghost.
She was small, dressed in a deep indigo dress that was made of rough, hand woken cotton. A heavy white head scarf covered the top of her hair and wrapped around her just under her chin. Soft waves of auburn hair tumbled out from under the scarf and gently were teased from the soft breeze that filled the warm summer day.
"I was worried you would have to leave me again," she replied softly, her small hands slipping into his and she gently tugged him down.
"Maria?" He asked, unsure of what to make of this girl who began to laugh, her bright green eyes crinkling in mirth.
"Of course, silly, are you going to get in trouble?" Maria whispered playfully as he fell onto one knee, noticing that he wore heavy white robes instead of his normal slacks and oxford shirt.
"With who?" Eamon cocked his head at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about.
"Azrael, Michael, the rest of the Angels," she replied shyly tugging at his long red pony tail.
"What?" Eamon asked, confused when he suddenly felt pain streak through his back.
The world Eamon saw slowly dissolved into darkness as he sat up in his bed, cold sweat dripping off his face and falling silently onto the rough cotton sheets of his bed. The sun filtered into the room in hues of grays and silver through the slats in the wooden shutters.
Pain streaked through his body, his body going rigid for an instant as his muscles cried out in agony. Hunched over on the mattress, his arms wrapped around himself, his fingers desperately clawing at his back, wishing the pain away, he tried to scream but found himself unable.
Something moved under his skin, it felt like bones. His skin stretched painfully on his back and he could feel that something was about to break out. In a spray of crimson, two large white wings burst from his back. They tore through his shirt, leaving shreds of cloth to float damply to the ground, heavy with his blood.
Gasping for air like a fish out of water, he lay sprawled on the bed, his wings folded around him like wet blankets, the feather matted. Tears gathered in his eyes but they would not fall.
"What…" he groaned, getting off the wet mattress slowly and cast his eyes to the mirror across from his bed and stared at the reflection.
Amid the blood still racing down the slick, silver side of the mirror he could see himself. He was pale, his hair hung around his face limply, and no life could be found in it. Large white wings, stained with red, were folded around his body.
'I hope no one comes in….' he thought, oddly detached from what just happened….
Slowly, her feet just barely making any noise, Christopher made her way to the inside garden of the somewhat modern monastery. Gently she pushed the door open, walking out into the still harsh light and her feet weaved nimbly though the plants and weeds that were abundant on the soft dirt paths that weaved around the small garden. She sighed silently to herself as she looked around the foliage to see Rosette sitting happily on one of the stone benches the dotted the area.
"Rosette!" Christopher waved her hand to the blonde nun, who looked up, obviously startled as the girl made her way to her.
"Hi, Christopher," Rosette replied, her hand over her heart as though she was trying to steady it.
"Sorry if I scared you…" Christopher nodded her head to the nun apologetically and wiped the remainder of her tears out of her ruby colored eyes.
"Were you crying?" Rosette asked, making room for Christopher to sit down next to her.
"I… ah…" Christopher looked away, ashamed, "Yes."
"Why?" she asked as Christopher sat down on the floor next to the bench and upturned her face to try and catch the sun that drifted down from the heavens.
"Just… It's so nice to be here, and to have people not judge me," Christopher replied happily, counting her blessings.
"Christopher! Why are you crying, silly girl!" a soft male voice chastised the young teen who was crumpled at the foot of the statue of the virgin mother Mary. Blood ran down her face and off her hands which she had clasped over her eyes.
"It can't get any worse, why I am cursed? Why did my mum do this to me?" Christopher asked, looking up at the face of the young priest who sighed, sitting down in front of her, his legs tucked under his thin form.
"Listen, just remember, if things get so bad, there will always be people who have it worse than you. Count your blessings, Christopher…"
Christopher sighed, holding out her hand in front of her and held out three fingers and a thumb. Intently she began to stare at the large doors to the headquarters, and bit her lip.
"What are you doing?" Rosette suddenly asked, looking at Christopher who was again staring intently at her fingers.
"Counting my blessings… But I can only count four," she replied as she continued to stare at her fingers.
"Only four?" Rosette asked as she joined in on the staring contest at Christopher's fingers.
"Yeah, only four, sorta sad, that," Christopher muttered, letting her hand drop to the packed dirt floor, wincing as her knuckles grazed a few small rocks.
"There's gotta be more then four!" Rosette exclaimed, resting her hands on the teen's small shoulders.
"Nope, just four."
"Well, what are they?"
"Well, one's that I got hired by Eamon," she folded down one finger.
"The next one's that I met you and Chrono," another finger was curled back down to her small palm.
"Then, Brother Robert… and last of all, coming to America," and with that Christopher sighed, leaning back against the seat of the heavy stone bench.
"Wait… you didn't mention the fact that you're alive!" Rosette exclaimed, standing up quickly and positioning herself in front of the teen, who looked up, smiling sadly.
"That's because that's not a blessing," was the reply the young nun got as Christopher smiled weakly.
"WHAT! DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT?" Christopher cried out, her rage nearly ready to boil over at the teen's disregard for her life.
"My entire life, I've been told I'm a curse, that I'm nothing but a plague. What else am I supposed to think?" Christopher replied sadly.
"Don't think that! Just cuz' everyone's been telling you that, doesn't mean it's true!"
Christopher pulled away from the frightening nun who was waving her fist frantically at her.
"I guess I'm just that pathetic…" the girl muttered, curling her feet under her small body before looking up at Rosette pathetically.
"Just… don't say that! Everyone has a reason, and just because you're told you're evil or something, doesn't mean that you are! Why not teach them a lesson? Be good!" Rosette shook her finger at the girl who looked up, smiling through the tears that rolled down her thin face.
Off at the gate Chrono stood, leaning against the old stone arch, smiling at the two girls who were now hugging, both crying, though neither really had a reason to. Yeah, that was what Rosette did, she made things better. With a fleeting smile Chrono turned around, heading to the dining hall for supper…
there we go! End of yet another chapter! This is great! Well, tell me what you think please, and thanks for reading! Cheerio until next chapter…