Humans Are So Pessimistic

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Chapter Twenty-Two: Humans Are So Pessimistic

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“Sam?” I call out and he hums in response. “Am I cursed?”

His golden brows shoot up so high, they almost get lost in his mop of hair which flops over his forehead. He pauses, seeming to reflect and weigh his words, probably thinking of a way to simplify to my human understanding as I have come to see his thinks humans to be dim-witted beings.

He readjusts himself so he is seated opposite me on the bed, rather than beside me. He clamps his palms together before he answers my question.

“No, Anabelle. You are most certainly not cursed,” is his response, but I am not convinced.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he shoots, his words cold and devoid of emotions. “I’m an Angel and we lack the ability to tell lies. I couldn’t lie to you even if I wanted to.”

“Why then do bad things keep happening around me?” I enquire.

He seems to find my question amusing because he lets a brief laughter escape as he shakes his head and rolls his violet eyes at me and I know that once again, he is questioning my intelligence. My lips curl downwards in a frown as I find myself lacking the tolerance to condone his condescending attitude.

He doesn’t seem fazed by my glare, but he chooses to sober up nonetheless.

“Yes, bad things do happen around you, but have you ever stopped to consider why bad things don’t happen to you? Humans are so pessimistic, focusing on what was and what’s around them, they don’t seem to realize all the good that has been sent their way. Look at you! Despite all odds, you’re in perfectly working condition.”

“Bad things happen to me.” I indignantly reply, appalled by his audacity.

My life has been a series of pain after pain and he has the rights to tell me that I don’t ever get hurt.

“I know you’re the Devil, but show at least a little bit of empathy, will you? Bad things keep happening, and I’m starting to think it’s my fault. Perhaps Mrs. Lina’s death was God punishing me for striking a deal with you – the Devil!” I snap at him.

He stares at me in silence for a while, his brows furrowed as though he is trying to determine the gentility of my words and for a brief moment, I think that maybe, just maybe I have finally gotten to him, but he surprises me by going into a round of genuine laughter.

Despite my anger, I find that the sound is somewhat pleasing. His golden hair bobs around his face as he laughs and faint smile lines appear beside his lips. The sound suddenly dies when someone knocks on my door.

I stare at him, waiting for him to hide or something, but he just stares at me with blank eyes.

“Aren’t you planning on leaving?”

“Not necessarily.” He shakes his head, looking dead serious.

With a deep breath, I get off the bed and towards the door which I crack open a little bit so I can see the person on the other side. I am surprised to find Mrs. Alex staring at me with brows furrowed in curiosity and concern.

“Good evening, Mrs. Swift,” I manage a greeting. “I’m sorry for earlier. I just –”

She opens the door further and steps into the room. Her hands are on her waist as she looks around. Mrs. Alex is a tall woman with caramel skin and she looks a little intimidating with her side-shave and her somewhat muscled frame.

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