(Peggy is narrating)
The acids of my spew had burnt out my throat. All I could do was rest in front of the porcelain appliance and feel miserable. He stood outside, ready to offer me any help. “Want to talk about it?”
I was a sweaty hot mess, and shaking all over. “What is there to talk about? Most of the doctors were nice. They even gave me this plushy. I recognize this lady’s name on the paper. I hated her!”
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” DuQuesne said.
“I fear for the worthiness of our species to survive, when things like this happen to our most vulnerable.”
My feelings of devastation led to me becoming cynical. I stood and wiped my mouth. “So, everyone’s into good deeds for something. What’s in it for you?”
He shrugged. “I have my own scores to settle against creatures who do such things to innocents like you. I want to train you, so you can help me someday. As for why, let us call it noblesse oblige.”
I frowned. “Something like Batman and Robin?”
“Yes. Part of the obligation of the gifted to civilization, entails the care and training of its next generation. It is my turn now to give you what no one else can or will give you.”
“A home? A parent? How do I address you, sir?”
“A refuge and mentor. Call me Doctor, Professor, or Marc, okay?”
“Could this research have helped anyone else besides me?”
“I had the paper translated,” he replied. “The theory looks good, using hypnotics and sensory bombardment. It started from torturing labor camp inmates into new points of view. For therapeutic use on children for speed learning, it would never pass an ethics board.”
I stepped out of the bathroom, then pointed to the living room, where I noticed his natural gas fireplace. “I want to burn this!”
“Of all people, Margaret, I think you have that right.” We walked back, then he turned a dial on the wall. Flames leaped up with a woomf, giving the room a warm, cheery glow.
I knelt before the iron mesh curtain, to toss the paper into the flames. Even with the evils I suffered, I believe a Creator exists as it didn’t make sense not to. It didn’t mean I believed how others did.
Ever since my class unit in mythology, I liked the idea of powers existing under Him, lesser gods or angels. Some cause pain, others shield and heal. I folded my hands, closed my eyes, and wept.
“My patron angel under the Creator, watcher of homes, kindler of hearths,” I said, “please take to Him my prayer. Our world is slowly dying. Help us rekindle our compassion, so we may win free of the horrid things who hate Him and would destroy all life. Amen.”
DuQuesne nodded. “Amen.”
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