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Chapter 4

Angel
March 23

"She calls herself an Angel..."

Roger's whisper resonated in my mind like an evil tape recorder trying to haunt me. Me? An Angel? Of course not. Not with what I've done. Angels were spiritual, cheerful and hardworking beautiful creatures in stories and false religions who were fortunately lucky enough not to be born human. Angels had a purpose to serve some sort of divine plan, they had the power of flight, influence, control. Angels could even have names. Most importantly, angels were at peace with their identity. They knew who had created them and why.

That was what I was struggling to attain myself. My identity.

Ever since I was a child, I had been plagued by my given name due to the two scars on my back that I had been born with. They said I used to have angel's wings. They told me I was the reincarnation of something important and that one day I would perform a very important task that would affect Paradigm City.

When I turned thirteen, I started to have horrible nightmares about monsters, about giant Megadeus's raiding the city, about explosions and gunshots, blood and death everywhere. I had always been forced to recount these horrible experiences to my mother, my 'family', the Union, to anyone who'd pull my hair or threaten me.

To this day I still struggle to find out what who I am a reincarnation of, what my purpose on this earth is, and whether my dreams are actually memories or a foreshadowing of an imminent tragedy to come. I have researched the religious and factual writings from over 40 yrs ago, and it has all been to no avail. Angels, gods, and demons were all lies; there was no purpose, control, meaning in this blasted world. I had to learn it all the hard way by myself.

The only thing that made sense in my life was the fact that it was always dramatic, unlucky, lonely, painful, and tough not knowing who I or Paradigm City exactly was. The more I found out, the more things seemed confusing. The more I explored, the more it seemed like life didn't want me to know.

"It's all lies!" I cried out, sitting on top of the table once more. I wanted him to shut up; my back was turned away from him and I wanted to make it clear that I did not want to answer to anything.

"What is?" he demanded.

"All that talk about there being a limitless supply of memories being left down here," I gave in angrily.

"Why are you looking for memories anyway?"

"Because they're worth a lot of money, naturally."

"Is that the only reason?" he pried in a certain quiet tone of voice that indicated that he had been sincerely doubtful of me for the longest time.

That-- that bitch! Why can't he just shut up and not mess with business that's not his? Why did it feel ike he could read me like a book? I hated this invasion of privacy.

I couldn't see him, but I imagined his dark eyes, dark as my own, tracing the outline of my scars. I for some reason imagined a kind, caring, concerned look on his ever serious face... then rudely shoved the thought out. Roger-- concerned? Please. He was only manipulating me, my mind, angling to get the upper hand and grab any and all the valuable information from me just for... for his greedy prideful purposes. Humans only cared about themselves, after all. Always have.

"What do you mean?"

"Were you born in this city, Miss Angel?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" I said, playing it safe.

"Because it's common knowledge that the people who are born in this town and continue to live here usually don't think to get their memories back."

I whirled around on the table. Roger was not looking at me but staring at the ceiling. It was hard to tell what his facial expression was.

"And doesn't that disturb you? Not knowing what ever happened to our parent's parents not knowing where they even came from and not understanding who we are or any idea why we live here?" I yelled, resisting the urge just to break down and cry.

"That's just it. People who live in or outside the domes are able to live here today because they made it a point to not even think about."

True. I hadn't even thought about that way before; it was a very interesting point. Perhaps I had cared too much, perhaps I had spent too much time dwelling on the past, a past that could not and would not ever be grasped by human minds.

I had always thought of Roger as one of them, one of the usual social elite who went with the flow, enjoyed the triviality of wealth; one of them who ignorantly and blissfully never questioned the concept of existence.

Perhaps I was not alone in this room with my pain as I so had thought.

"But you're different, aren't you?" I said softly, curiously.

Silence. I felt an awkward lump in my throat.

The next sound was of him grunting as he stood up and sighed. "Anyway, this discussion really is annoying," Roger said in irritation.

"What?"

Annoying? The discussion annoying? It was actually getting interesting.

"I have a lady trapped with me here, a sealed room with no escape, and she won't even throw herself into my arms and beg me to save her!" he projected in a dramatic theatrical voice. I imagined him on a stage dressed up in a suit in shining armor and myself wearing an old-fashioned dress in a tower leaning over the balcony.

And where did this outburst of energy and shockingly real humor come from?

I couldn't help it. It was a giggle, a chuckle, then a full-hearted laugh. I hadn't laughed in so long. I felt as if something had been lifted from my chest.

I hated fighting, with Roger especially. Men!

"You know, you are such a louse, Mr. Negotiator," I said, turning my head to look at his smile. He apparently liked my laughing. Apparently he was beaming, reveling at the fact that I found him entertaining for once.

"That's okay. I'm used to people telling me that," he said casually, brushing it off.

I looked at the window, looked at the crooked buildings immersed in the blue, wondering what it was that Roger had been staring at for so long. I guess, in a weird way, the scenery actually looked kind of beautiful, not to mention ridiculous. After all, buildings weren't supposed to be in water!

"Running into this place has to be one of the worst mistakes in my life," I mused.