Excerpt

The  door  swung  open  fiercely,  almost  coming off  its  hinges.  Heavy  thumping sounded  on  the  floor as angry footsteps entered the house.  An immense shadow cast its silhouette against the wall and floor. 

Backing away from the door,  Angelica awaits her dark half.  She  had  been  in  the kitchen preparing dinner, praying that she could make up for lost time and finish her dinner  before  six  o’clock.  She,  with  apprehension,  looked  at the clock hanging adjacently to the door.  Although the dew of perspiration stung her eyes,  and  she had  difficulty  seeing,  her  blurred  vision  noted that the clock read five-fifty-nine with the second hand tenaciously racing toward the twelve. 

Tick,  tick,  tick, tick, the red hand raced.  It seemed to synchronize with the throb of her heart. In what seemed like five seconds was sixty and the clock now read six o’clock. Simultaneously, she turned off the burners, dinner was ready to be  served. “Just in time”  she  murmured  feeling relieved.   Her life revolved around punctuality and schedule and late dinner was unacceptable. She hurriedly  placed the dishes on the table, making certain that the utensils were in their proper place. 

“Dinner  is  ready,”  she  said  in  a voice barely audible. Of course this was not the utterance of a secret jamboree but a plea for mercy.  Today was the first time in a long  time  that  preparations  were not ready at least fifteen minutes before it was due. Angelica, now approached and being dwarfed by the man’s towering formidable size, is suddenly struck to the floor!

“No-o-o-o-o.  Please.  Someone  please  help me.”  Her pleas went unheard,  falling onto no  one’s  ears  for  there being no one around to hear her,  to rescue her,  to come to her aid.  Living  in  the  country  had  its  advantages  and  disadvantages. Privacy  was  a disadvantage for these impetuous beatings,  as  they went at times mostly unheard and unnoticed.  Only  on such rare occasion, a nosy neighbor would witness her screams, catching  intermittent episodes of  her horrid beatings,  but to no  avail  simply  because  people  were  reluctant  to  get involved in the affairs of others; tending to the social habit of minding their own business. 

Continuing to crouch in the corner while using her hands to shield her face, a series of  blows  descended  upon  her  one  after  the  other.  “Please  stop,”  she  cried, cowering within the cave created by her arms encircling her head.  Again the blows came, crashing down with immense pressure to the top and back of her head. 

On  occasion  when  she’d  come  up  for  air,  a blow would catch her bruised face. When he realized that she was protected from his fury,  the  enraged man suddenly snatched  her  up  from  the  security of that position and flung her into the nearby stove.  The  metal there bit into her flesh and she let out a yelp.  Callously ignoring the injuries which he had inflicted upon his wife,  he continued upon her with one of his  hands  reaching out for her and the other clasped angrily in the air preparing to render  a  powerful  blow.  Angelica  suddenly  realizing  the  potential  damage  the pending impact of this additional blow would carry, attempted to flee. 

Nevertheless,  she was caught by her dress from behind,  his snare causing  her  to fall  backward  and strike the right upper portion of her head.  A loud sickening thud was heard as she fell,  this time rendering her motionless on the  floor.  Angry  eyes watched her, with fury and rage;  his torrid handiwork he blindly admired.  His anger would  soon  diminish,  as  it  always  would  in  this  his  vicious  cycle  of  abusive behavior,”  after  only  having  satisfied  that  hunger  for  control.   His  God  given weapons  had  again rained down viciously with anger,  reigning heartlessly upon his once betrothed.

Angelica,  still  motionless,  lie unconscious on the floor, broken.  Speckles of  blood now stained her blouse, the floor and the oven, she unaware of any overdue mercy.

He now sat at the table, swallowing the bitter liquid which had become the epitome of his destruction.  His  boss  had  just  laid him off  and there was no way he could feed  his  family.  His  job let him down and so did his wife.  Every day he slaved for her, earning a living so that she wouldn’t have to work.

Most women would appreciate that,  but not Angelica,  she  needed  that sense  of independence.  Thinking  over the events,  he considered himself a reasonable man. He  allowed  her  to  have a job and mingle with her friends.  His dad told him a long time  ago  that  a  woman’s  place  was at home and the sooner you let her join the harlot gang,  the sooner you’ll lose her.  A woman with friends can‘t be trusted.  He had  always  been faithful to her and knew that she had dark secrets.  For the past few  weeks,  she  has  been  getting  home  late  and not having dinner ready.  Her routine  has  changed  and  her preoccupation with the soaps has definitely altered her personality. She was looking and he knew it.

Angelica remained on the floor.  Her eyelids blackened and swollen shut by  impacts of  her  husband’s  volatile  expression.  Her  body  continuing  to lie motionless and broken on the floor.  Another day like many,  brought him home to terrorize his wife. His  fists  marked his strength and the emblem of his power.  The voice he indirectly avoided  employing  in  the workplace,  he used to succumb the gentle,  loving lamb which lye before him.  No matter how hard he tried to justify to himself what he had just  done,  the  outcome  remained the same  she was a good woman and his mind was over reacting.  His jealousy was making him crazy and his obsession to  control her  had  become  inherent.  He  wondered  why  he  hadn’t  just punched his boss. Instead,  as  always  he came home and punished his wife for  sticking  by  his  side when he needed her the most. 

As  always,  his fury subsided and the rage that had again taken possession of  him subsided.   He  noticed  the  foil-covered  pan on the stove along with two smoking pots.  Ivan wondered what she had prepared  for  dinner.  He  walked  over  to  the stove  to  take  a  look  then lifted the cover to smell the pleasant aroma of freshly steamed  vegetables.   Nicely  browned  ribs  laid  in  a  roasting  pan  coated  with homemade hickory smoked barbecue sauce.  Oh he could feel his stomach churning. Angelica knew her way around the kitchen and one thing she loved other  than  him was cooking.  Dinner was never late and definitely not burned.  Ivan  hated mystery spots in his meals.  When  the  smell  of his home cooked meal filled his lungs,  Ivan looked to see why Angelica hadn’t come to fix his plate.  Normally she would bounce back into action, but this time she didn’t even stir. 

He  returned his attention to where his wife remained.  He knelt to the floor and slid his hands underneath her back and thighs then raised her from her from her  broken place.  He  carried  her  to  the bedroom and placed her on the bed.  Looking at her face,  he became troubled at the blood clogging her nostrils.  Suddenly Ivan loathed what  he  had just done,  the horror that he had allowed himself to commit upon his wife.  He hurried to the bathroom and wet a towel with cold water then returned to where Angelica was laying.  Gingerly,  he  began  wiping  until  he  had  removed  all traces  of  his  ugly  act.  He  had not intended on injuring his wife and truly did not desire hurting her.  He had just become so blindly enraged by his boss;  needing  to vent out his encased anger. It just happened. 

As always,  the memory of the violent  episode  becoming  vague.  He  never  really remembered  ever  doing  any  of  it,  in conclusion he just knew that he had indeed committed each violently abusive act  unwarranted  against  his  beautiful  wife.  At each  time  of  the  beatings  occurred being as though  someone or something had taken over his body as caused him to commit such an ugly  act.  Guilt ridden and as mostly a thought, he called her  name.  “Angelica,  Angelica.  Come  on  honey,  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise never to hurt you  again.”

Angelica  lips  remained unmoved,  not showing the slightest sign of  acknowledging his further wishes.  Ivan was now very concerned,  eager to awaken his fallen wife. He  raised  her  swollen  eye lid and she starred up at him,  passed him with a blank unknowing stare.  He placed his hand under her nose to see if she was breathing, a  very faint wisp of air was felt as it escaped her nostril. Ivan was now suddenly fear stricken.

“No, he cried, snatching her up from the bed to hurry her off to the hospital. In the emergency room,  Dr. Painkin,  after being summoned,  hurried to see the  incoming patient.

“What happened here?”  he questioned noticing  the woman’s right eye swollen shut and  blue  from  bruises.  He also immediately became aware of the broken bridge of this   unconscious   patient’s   nose  which  had  appeared  to  have  been  twisted irreparably  face.  There  was  a slow trickle of blood escaping from her nostril.  The doctor  pulling  his  penlight  from  his  pocket,  shined   a   small   beam   into   the unresponsive  woman’s  eyes.  Immediately  he  noticed  the  imbalance   pupils.   A secretion  oozed  from  her  right  ear  which didn’t appear to be blood but when he carefully  moped  it  up  and  under  much  more  careful  observation,  a  pink  halo immediately  seen  having  formed around the cloudy emission.  “Shit,  Cerebrospinal fluid.  His  angry  eyes  looked  up  at  her  husband who stood there biting his nails wondering if he had struck her once too many. “Did you do this?”

Before  Ivan  could  give  his  reply,  the doctor issued an order that the patient be immediately rushed to radiology for x-rays.  “We  don’t want any time wasted.  Two nurses  at  the  doctor’s  side  hurried  the  unresponsive patient down the corridor, while another of the nurses summoned radiology to the operating room. A battery of scans performed revealed a formation of an acute sub dural hematoma caused by a remote  fracture  which shattered under the surface of the cranium causing multiple brain lacerations and arterial tears.

“This is going to be a tough one. I want my team summoned right  now.”  Dr.  Frank looked  at  the  results.  “She  must have received a very hard blow for this type of injury to have occurred.”  “Take her to Trauma One and make certain she’s prepped for the procedure. I want her ready five minutes ago!”

 Angelica was hastily rushed to a trauma unit; in preparation of surgery her hair had been  removed  from  the  surgical area by the nurse prior to arriving to the surgical ward. The critical patient having now been prepped, it was now the responsibility of the  cardiologist  and  anesthesiologist  to  make certain the monitors are attached, and anesthesia administered. 

In less than five minutes, Dr. Painkin entered the room with a trauma surgeon at his side.  Because he specialized in neurosurgery,  it  was  understood that this was his show and not trauma.  Also  standing  by  for assistance was two surgical residents and a fourth year medical student.  Nurse  Green,  the  circulating  nurse  and  best friend of Painkin  looked  on,  readied  to  assist.  Around Angelica broken body now stood a team of five highly reputable surgeons.  A briefing having been given to the other surgeons by Dr. Painkin, they began the task of saving this battered woman’s life. The incision spot was marked and opened,  a series of thin incisions were made to each layer of  flesh cautiously until the swollen abnormality was revealed.

“Look at the size  of  that  thing!”,  exclaimed one astonished doctor.  Sherry Aredt had worked side by side with Dr. Painkin on three major brain operations since being on  his  staff  over  the  past  six months.  As a resident along side the doctor,  her surgical  experience  had  excelled  her  medical  knowledge  superbly,  but  nothing previously  experienced  could  have  prepared  her for what she had witnessed this very moment.

 Inside the unconscious woman’s head lied the formation of a hematoma the size of a golf ball, complicated by irreparable arterial tears.  The  increased  swelling of the abnormality complicating matters  further  as  it  continued to relentlessly force the brain down into the brain stem, degenerating an already grave situation.

Sherry  Aredt  was  no  pessimist  by  nature  but  even  she  had  now realized the desperate need of a miracle for this broken battered  patient.  If  repair  was  at  all possible,  she  would  more  than  likely  remain  dysfunctional  after the procedure. Sherry  imagined  the  consequences of this fallen woman becoming a vegetable for the rest of life,  if  they  should  with  all their ability still fail her in their attempt to mend her  and render her whole once more.  She  equated if  this prognosis being in actuality worse than dying on an operating table.

“Damn, what am I going to do for this young lady?” exclaimed Dr. Painkin.  “There is no help for her. She needs an angel of God to help her,” he continued. He could feel anxiety and failure taunting him. He felt the acid building, racing to his throat.  This beautiful hapless woman was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. 

There  was  a  time Dr. Painkin felt he could save the world if given the chance and there being absolutely no problem he could not solve,  again  if  given  that chance, and now laid a young woman before him that would die on his table under his knife.

The  other  surgeons  now  looked  at  Dr.  Painkin for direction,  obviously feeling a shared trounce. No amount of study could have prepared them for this.  Not one of them anticipated the disaster that had  now  presented  itself  before  them.  There would  be  six  saviors going home with the same blood on their hands.  A  life being lost, that alone being certainly beyond a mere renaissance. 

While  the six stood around Angelica’s head,  deciding how to proceed,  there was a seventh  presence  in  their midst.  Although they could not see him,  he was there, looking and observing what had transpiring transpired  before them.  “You men have little faith, prayer without belief is useless.”  Looking from one surgeon to the other, he  willed one of them to beseech his help.  Without the summoning from the heart, his presence is void. “What’s this?” questioning with disbelief.

There  was  a  despondent  cry  in  the  room.  Someone loved this woman and was asking for help. Looking across the table, he spotted the unheard voice.  Dr. Painkin had  believed.  He  was asking that a higher power manifest it’s power and give this young woman another chance at life. He suddenly wanted to save this one life from the hands of death and become her protector.  Although Painkin had never seen her before, he instantly now felt a distinguishable obligation and unusual longing for her.

In  hearing this,  the power then being granted.  His existence in this time would be short and his abilities limited,  but he had sat  long  enough,  watching  this  woman suffer at the hands of her husband. He now deciding that such an abusive husband certainly  was  not  deserving of beautiful Angelica and his misbehavior towards this innocent creature now laid broken before him well surely not go without retribution. 

As  the  hand  of  the head surgeon began the procedure;  acting upon his renewed belief, a miracle happened. Just moments ago self deemed impotent hands becoming more  that  of  efficiency  and  skilled.   Whatever  surgical  attempt  was  rendered suddenly remarkably easy.  The clots all were effortlessly cleared,  now allowing the pregnant tissue to settled  intact;  into its proper place.  Observing eyes possessed the gaze of wonderment as their possessors looked on in disbelief,  all with renewed faith.  Dr.  Painkin  could  feel  the  praises  of  his  understudies  and in  shortened glances he saw it also in their eyes. But what they didn’t realize is that this is not a miracle by his hands but  someone even  higher who heard the covetous cries of his heart.  Her  temporal  readings became stable and signs of recovery which had been bleak were now promising. 

“Okay, everything looks good, let’s close her up.” Dr. Painkin amazed eyes stared at the healed woman before him. “Looks to me like another success story.”

Certainly,  this must not have been that woman’s time to die, he thought.  He knew that  there  was a greater power in the room with them watching over her because she was surely destined to die in surgery without spiritual intervention.

Now,  when  he  saw  that  things  were  now  in  order  and his guidance no longer required,  Dr. Painkin  turned  to  leave the room, when he suddenly thought he saw something,  a  shadow of sort,  walking ahead of him. He turned to look back at the others to see if they had noticed it, when he realized them to be diligently at work.

“Odd,  he thought to himself”  Perhaps I   should  keep  this  to  myself.  Dr. Painkin cleaned up,  staring into the  mirror at his reflection,  wondering if he was losing his mind or perhaps having already lost it, when as suddenly as that doubt arose within him, a tingle raced up his spine. A sixth sense told him that there was someone else was in the room with him, behind him. The doctor quickly spun around. 

“Who’s  there?”  He  demanded,  looking wildly around the tiny scrub room.  No one. Again  he  felt a definite presence with him,  this time its dicey breath in his ear.  A soft whisper spoke to him  '‘Take care of her.  Take care of  this angel,”  the  voice comforted him. “She is now your responsibility.”

Searching  again,  Dr. Painkin  saw no one.   “Who are you?”  the bewildered doctor pleaded with his  unseen visitor,  “And what do you mean, take care of her?”  What about this woman’s husband?”

“Your request has been granted. Show yourself approved!”  Ah, was this a coherent reply? He thought to himself. 

Waiting  for  another  response  but  received  none,  Dr.  Painkin beheld a shadowy figure now walking away from him, leaving the room using a  door  which  clearly  he himself was not  able  to  see.   He  waited  for  something  else,  for  a  revelation, something,   but   got   none.  The   room  was  silent  and no one else heard it nor witnessed any of which had just taken place.

Ivan still remained eagerly awaiting in the hospital’s admission area,  paced the floor for hours anticipating greatly any word of his wife’s  condition and the results of her sanctioned surgery. Signing permission over to the doctors and thusly allowing them to  operate  on his wife,  was like that of signing her over to certain misfortune.  He looked  at his watch wondering whether or not this nightmare would have a positive ending.

“How could I have allowed my drinking to destroy my life and the life of my wife,” he cried?

The  attending nurse only listened.  He didn’t deserve any kindness for what he had done.  He should be punished,  no one should get away with  hurting  someone  like that.  When  the  distraught  man opened his mouth to release his guilt to her,  she walked away from him. Indifferent towards the man’s selfish plight and feeling anger swell  up  within  herself  because  of  the  abusive nature this man,  the nurse now lending  to  distract her away from the sobbing annoyance of very statuesque man. Remembering a menial task that had been previously left undone,  she  decides now being  an  ideal  time to indulge in that chore.  The embittered woman began pulling patient files  from  the  cabinet.  She would not allow such a man to find comfort in her. He would realize that what he had done to his wife was viciously inhuman.

After  ten  very  lonesome  and reflective hours,  Ivan had finally been notified by a surgeon that the surgery was over,  being somewhat of a miraculous success,  and his wife was indeed now resting comfortably in recovery. 

From recovery, she would be taken to intensive care where a close eye will be kept on  her  for  about  six  to  eight weeks,  the doctor continued with his professional explanation.   Ivan  listened  intently  as  the  surgeon explained exhaustively of his wife’s resulting condition.

“Can I see her now?”,  Ivan petitioned,  in a  whisper  of  a  voice.   He  knew  that everyone  despised  him  but  she was his wife and felt them appalled by his rightful request.  Ivan also know that no one there had any authority to keep him from her, his wife. He let out a sigh of frustration.

“All  right,  but  only  for a moment.”  The doctor reluctantly conceded.   “She must remain at complete rest.”

The surgeon looked at the man intensely,  trying  to understand how a human being cause inflict such damage upon  another  living  being,  perhaps to understand what such a creature would appear as this man standing before him.  He detested having to allow this criminal  to  see  his  victim;  the  handiwork  of  unchecked  behavior. Regardless,  at  this  hour,  the  doctor knew that he must submit to the husband’s request. In doing so, her savior continued to caution the agitated man.

“She  will  not  be  able to respond to you,  so please don’t expect any. Any sudden movements of her  by  you may cause her to go back into shock and she may again begin to hemorrhage. Are you understanding me?”

“Yes,  I  understand.”  Attentively Ivan heeded the surgeon’s warning.  He saw that the  doctor’s  carefully  designed  words  were  actually that of a protection for the patient from himself and his potential further  abusiveness.  Ivan  returned  a  guilty stare deeply back into the probing gaze  of  the smaller doctor.  The doctor seemed to have stood a bit taller than himself at that moment to Ivan. 

“I really didn’t mean to hurt her,  but I was just so angry and ......”   “Please,  don’t finish,  I know exactly what happened next”.   The doctor angrily interjected;  as if this man could ever justify such behavior,  inflicting such destruction upon someone he swore to love and cherish.

It  should never have happened.  Come  with  me  Mr. Carty.   After  the  exchange between himself and the husband of the fallen woman,  the doctor had walked Ivan over  to  the  nurses  station  and instructed the attending nurse there to take the man to see his wife in recovery. 

Reluctantly  the  nurse  allowed her professionalism to oblige the surgeon’s request, escorting  the  sullen  unwanted visitor  to see his wife.  Now  walking down a very dimly lit corridor which seemed to have no end, Ivan wondered if  she was escorting him to hell.

“Are  you  sure  this  is  the  way?”,  he  asked  of  the  nurse  with  apprehension.  Suddenly,  Ivan  felt  a  chill,  a coldness in which he had never felt before.  No,  it wasn’t that of the nurse’s indifference towards him or her on-responsiveness to his last  seemly  rhetorical  question,  but,  there  was  something cold lurking at heels, breathing down his neck,  taunting him, loathing him.  He tried to shake the thought but  couldn’t.  He looked behind him,  but saw nothing, but it was there...something was  indeed  there  letting  him  know that he was hated and that his actions would not  go  unpunished.  He  felt  his  every  moves  now  being  watched,   even  now remembering  that there had been times when he cheated on his wife, it was there, had been there threatening him.  Of course nothing ever being said,  he  knew even then  that  something  did   not  approve   of   him  and  his  behavior.   The  nurse occasionally would looked  back at him to then only continue on in the direction she was going without ever answering him.

Having finally arrived  at  the  end  of  a  long  hall,   the  nurse  directed  the  now hesitantly  anxious  man  to  a  dimly  lit  room.   Ivan slowly stepped into the room, cautiously  observing his surroundings as he entered. To the left of  the room was a curtain pulled around what he believed to be the bed where his  battered  wife  laid resting, recovering from the results of his hands.  A repetitive synchronized beeping was now very much audible,  heard to be emanating from behind the opacity of the vertically hung bed shroud.  Cautiously  he moved closer to the curtain wondering if his wife was really behind it.  Then a thought flashed into his mind,  he  wondered if the hospital was plotting to kill him.

Why would the curtains be pulled so tight? he wondered.  He turned to look back at the nurse, to find her still standing at the door watching him. “Look, do you want to see your wife or  not?  I don’t have all day”,  the agitated nurse inquired of the now seemly very nervous man in a noticeably annoyed tone.

“Yes, I’m sorry,”  Ivan replied, suddenly feeling pressured, “I’m just afraid of  what I will see.”

“What do you expect to see”  the woman snapped,  not really expecting the man to answer, “You just bashed you wife’s head in”  she continued.  “Do you really think a miracle occurred during the past ten hours?”

Ivan  felt  a  chill  behind the nurse’s words.  He now very reluctantly stepped up to where he expected the head of the bed to be and pulled the curtain  “Ah-h-h-h-h!” Ivan gasped. “Oh my God”

The man backed away from the bed,  and from what laid in the bed, almost running. The nurse watched Ivan begin trembling as if he had suddenly become inflicted with Parkinson’s Disease.

“What the hell is wrong with you Mr. Carty?”  Her voice strong with reprehension as he  almost  knocked  her  down.   “What  happened to  her?”   He  stammered,  still maintaining that he was deserving of answers.

“That’s none of your damn business.” The retort of the defiant nurse bit back. “It is my business” Ivan shot back at her, hysterically. “That’s not how she looked when I brought her here”

“How the hell would you know what she looked like when she got  here?  You  don’t even know her! Your wife’s in the next bed”

Ivan looked over at the body he’d mistakenly took for  that  of  his  own  wife.  The woman that laid before him being so heavily sedated,  didn’t hear any of  the ruckus going on.  That moment suddenly being priceless with it’s now deafening silence, as the  embarrassment  induced  expression  upon  the  still  rattled man’s face almost rivaling the abuse he had inflicted upon his nearby victim.

“Oh,  I’m  sorry.”   Ivan  sheepishly reentered the room bypassing that first bed this time, avoiding any contact.  He hurried over to the next bed where his wife lay with her head bandaged.  As for the nurse,  this episode;  the  mini  melodrama that just unfolded,  was  simply  hilarious,  and  in  some little way vindicated the often silent plight  of the injured woman.  The nurse fought hard to keep from laughing.  He  did exactly  what  she  expected.  She  knew that he would look for his wife in the first bed and crafted her subtlety well.  That patient in that first bed having also scared her the first time she saw her.

He’s  lucky  he didn’t defecate on himself, she thought hysterically to herself.  That patient in that first bed had suffered severe nerve damage which  caused  her  face to  puff  up  and  twist  in  a  horrifying  way.  Anyone  would  have responded very animatedly  surprised  should they not be expecting to see that.   Ivan had a lovely wife behind all those bruises, but of course no one  could  see  this.  For  five  long years,  not a week had passed that she didn’t suffer at  his  hands.  And  now,  her beauty was concealed by white bandages.

He held her hand,  wishing that he could wipe away her pain.  A  tear found its way to his eye and  as he lowered his face to hers to give her a kiss. “Mr. Carty,  you’re going   to   have  to   leave  now.”   Dr.  Painkin  interrupted  him  with  his  sudden appearance and abrupt order.  Loathing him, he remained in the doorway.

“All right,  please take care of her.   She’s all I’ve got.”   The doctor scrutinized him expressionlessly. “We’ll do our best, of course you know it will take sometime. “How much time?”

“As  I  said  before,  at  least a month.”   The doctor felt this to be redundant in his explanation  to such a man.   “It all depends on her recovery and how she fights  to get through this.”   Ivan thanked the doctor and walked out the  room.   The  nurse stepped aside to allow him to pass.  The doctor then checking  the  patient’s  chart and  instructed the nurse of the medication to be administered to this patient,  and that indeed it was time to administer her medication once again.

Angelica, while in her sleeping state heard a voice speaking to her, “I have come to save  you”  “Who  are  you?”  she  asked within her unconscious state.  “That isn’t important right now, the only thing that matters is that you recover”

Her  conscious  eyes squinted to see the figure that stood in the shadows.  “If  you are here to help me,  why are you hiding from me?”   “Now is not the time for me to reveal  myself,  in  time I will tell you who I  am and why I am here,  but for now,  I want you to focus on getting better. Will you do this for me?”

“Yes, but are you some sort of angel or something?”  Angelica felt comfort,  yet she questioned.  “No,  not  really,  but if it makes you more comfortable,  you may refer to me as that”  Angelica started to ask of him another question  but  had  suddenly turned  and  walked  away,  but in a whisper she heard:  “Your love,  your savior is before you and he will protect you”