She could not remember how long she had been walking for. An hour? Four days? A lifetime? A lifetime was too long to be spent walking, for sure. And yet there she was, walking somewhere. Now that she thought about it, it would be more important to know where she was going.
"Where am I going?" she asked.
"You're going to get some badges, young one," said the Marill.
There was a house by the road, a wooden cottage most certainly built in the last decade. When she knocked on the door, someone answered it.
"What do you want?"
"I want some badges."
"Well, you'll have to look somewhere else, because there aren't any badges here."
Where could those badges be?
"I'll ask one of my associates," the Marill said.
The phone rang, so she picked it up.
"… for your first badge, you'll want to go to the miner's house. It's located on 44th Avenue. Be quick and succinct."
"That's where we need to go."
"But we're already there."
44th Avenue. Tidy and well kept. A thousand angels planted on the doorstep. Lightly dusted, frequently serviced.
"We need to be discreet," said Marill, before breaking the window with a brick.
The miner wasn't home, but he was there. There was where they were and they were there.
"Watch closely."
The Marill swung.
"Again."
Another swing.
"One last time."
The bat broke the skull like a piñata. Fragments of bone. Blood everywhere. Eyes and mouth open in a silent scream. Broken, broken, broken.
"There's your first badge."
There was a badge.
"For your next badge, I'll need you to help me with the housekeeping procedures a bit. Keep the red paint away from your dress. It stains."
Why didn't the angels on the doorstep come? O father in heaven, your angels you left me on the doorstep, they didn't come in my time of need. They failed me, those angels, and now I rest upon the spits of death whose grip is eternal. Where were those angels? I needed the love and comfort of those angels. I talked to those angels and they didn't answer me please help they left me to die left me to die left me to die left me to die left me.
