Chapter Three

Angel brushed the creases out of her church dress which reached past her knees and almost touched the floor. She got up from the bench and lifted her handbag off the wood as well to put it around her hand, in a fashion that she was sure Darrow would find appealing. Smiling pleasantly, she pulled her gloves further up her wrists and walked down the aisle to meet with her friends, who were huddled in one corner. If Darrow were here, he would say she was glowing.

"Good morning, ladies," Angel said to them and their faces lit up at her arrival.

"Angel! You are well named," Samantha said. "I hear from the church elders that you've donated yet another hefty sum to the homeless shelter yet again."

"Oh," Angel said as she blushed. "I told them not to tell anyone. This is so embarrassing."

"Don't hide how good you are!" Katy said. "John has been pestering me lately to introduce you to him. He wants to settle down and he's looking for a good church girl to be his wife. He's slated to take over our church, you're so lucky!"

"John?" she said, hiding her face behind a small hand. "I can't measure up to him. I feel like someone like him has special access to God."

"If anyone has special access, it's you!" Samantha said. "Every prayer of yours gets answered, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Katy said, staring at her in awe.

She waved a hand of dismissal at them as they continued to chat gently. If Darrow were here, he'd say she fit right in. Soon, they left her and she caught John staring intently at her from the corner of her eyes. She returned his smile before she left the church steps for her home.

Well, all her prayers do get answered.

But not because they were answered by God.

She answered her own prayers.

She unlocked her door and stepped into her home. Ever since she was a young girl, it struck her hard that she had cravings. Certain obsessions that couldn't be quelled. That couldn't be controlled. While most people had hobbies and interests, she did not have hobbies. She had full blown compulsions. She was ruled by her desires and it didn't take long for her to be diagnosed with a mental disorder.

Pushing the door open to her room, she headed for her wardrobe. Shoving her clothes to the side, her fingers connected with the wooden board at the back and she nudged it aside. It gave way and she reached her small figure into the wardrobe and entered the secret room.

Every wall was filled with pictures of Darrow. Even the ceiling had his picture, and the ground was also littered with them. Items that belonged to him were on the table in the middle of the secret room, things that she stole from him during close shaves with him outside. There were candles burning on top of the table and countless journals with angry scratchings inside, details about him, everything she knew about him.

Darrow, Darrow, Darrow.

She first met him when she was 18. Her parents had just announced to her that they were getting divorced and she left her house in tears because she always thought they were in love. The fact that they had lied that they were to her for years came as a shocking betrayal to her, but her heart told her that it was still a sacrifice they made for her that she should treasure. But she still felt dejected.

It was raining that day, and as she dropped to the seat on a bench at a bus stop, she saw him. He came up drenched in rainwater to approach a cat shivering in the corner of the street. He tried to pick the cat up, but it only hissed angrily at him. So he did what he could and tried to shelter it from the rain with his body. At that very moment, a flash of lightning struck the road next to him, lighting the street up and she felt as if she was looking at something out of Heaven.

That did it for her. She followed him home and he was none the wiser. She spent the next few days staking his home and discovering as much as she could about him. Surely he didn't mind, right? They were meant for each other. And wives took great care of their husbands. She familiarised herself with his schedule, and cheered for him when he decided to enter politics some years later.

When he decided to run for office, she made sure that he would succeed. She did many things she was not proud of, but she didn't care. She made sure his enemies would be destroyed, and when she saw what he did at that bridge, she knew they were truly soulmates. The way he threw Samuel to his death sang to her, and she knew one day he would find the music in all the lives she ended for him to rise to power.

She lit up another candle for her shrine as she smiled widely. He was the definition of perfection, he was everything, her sunshine, her light. Sticking the candle into the pot of sand before his picture, she chanted a string of prayers to him, the God of her life. She closed her eyes to bask in his glory for a while.

When she opened her eyes, she repeated her prayer again.

He would know who she was soon.

❃❃❃

It was the next day, and Angel was sure Darrow would've also understood the discomfort she felt the moment she entered that room and sat down on the chair opposite that woman. She was a woman with greying hair who looked old enough to be her grandmother. The woman removed her glasses and placed her hands on top of her clipboard as she gestured to her.

"Angel," she said. "Do you know why you're here?"

Darrow would call this annoying.

"I do," Angel replied. "It's because of what happened at school a long time ago."

"Yes," her therapist said. "We're here to talk about your tendencies to stalk others."

"I don't know why we have to talk about this," Angel said frankly. "It was such a long time ago."

"Well, that incident in your past almost shattered many lives, and the authorities want to ensure it never happens again."

"I won't do it again," Angel said. "Please, it was so many years ago."

"They think you're at it again, Angel."

"I'm not."

"Let's talk about that incident."

"It's boring to talk about."

"Remember what happened between you and Mr. Smith? Tell me about that."


"We had sex."

"How did it get to that point?"

"I proposed the idea of sex and he said yes."

"That's not what happened," her therapist said with a shake of her head.

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what actually happened."

"Fine," Angel inhaled sharply. "I blackmailed my professor into sex by threatening to reveal to the school that he was helping students cheat if he didn't do what I wanted."

"Yes, I'm glad you're admitting this."

"What does it matter now? It's already several years down the road."

"Why did the authorities send you back to see me?"

"Because those fools think I'm still sick."

Well, they were right.

Did she care?

Fuck no.

"What have you been doing lately?" she asked her.

She shrugged. "Nothing much. I'm much better than I was before. I'm no longer stalking anyone at the moment."

"Are you sure?"

"If you don't believe me, ask my friends at church. I'm going to get married soon. His name is John."

"Does he know about your past?"

"No, he doesn't. And I'd like to keep it this way."

"Are you stalking him?"

"I don't know what you want me to say. Have the authorities look into it, they'll discover that he's more interested in me than I am in him. My past is truly behind me, you just have to believe that."

"We'll be checking into your history with him, is that fine?"

"Sure," Angel said, beaming.

"Let's see if we find anything," she said.

Well, Darrow would agree that they were going to find absolutely nothing.