The Huntress Bloodlust (Pt2 )

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Chapter 8

My hands were shaking and my heart was beating wildly, as I was so angry about the things the Father had said. Did he really think, that the events wouldn’t change me, that the incidents wouldn’t influence me? Angrily, I walked up and down my room. I mumbled to myself and scolded and grumbled so loud, I didn’t notice someone entering my bedroom. Only when the door was slammed shut I whirled around and stared at the old man, who was standing there.

“What do you want? Did he send you?” I snapped at him and folded my arms, protectively.

“No, Father Michael did not send me. It was my idea to talk to you, as you don’t want to listen to him, girl,” he replied. Slowly, he walked over to me.

“You should go, Mister Hawk, because I will not listen to you either! I don’t care about what you have to say!”

Disapprovingly, he clicked his tongue. “I know that it doesn’t matter to you. You don’t care about anything! You don’t care about me. You don’t care about Father Michael and you do not give a damn about the world out there, too! You are very selfish, Ada,” he remarked and wagged his finger at me.

His words made me speechless. I gasped for breath at this insult. Selfish? Me? “How dare you? I’ve just lost my child!” I screamed at him, angrily.

Suddenly, he started to move again and headed towards me. He reached me so soon I was still wondering how he had made it, when he gave me a good box on the ears. Suddenly, I stared at my bathroom’s door instead of looking at the old man. I touched my burning cheek and turned my eyes on Mister Hawk again. Stunned, I looked at him.

“Father Michael has lost his child as well. Have you ever thought of what it is like for him? No! Of course not. Why should you? You don’t care, that he’s crying for his baby and is now crying for you, too. You are only thinking of what you need to be happy, but not of what he needs. He could give you the comfort you need and you could do the same for him. You should be there for each other, so these wounds, that are the same, can heal,” he said without taking a breath. His face had become red, because he had gotten completely wrapped up in his talk. “Pull yourself together! Be there for him. Help him!” he added, forcefully.

But his speech had the desired effect. Just because of it I realized what I had done or rather had not done. The old man was absolutely right. I was a selfish, stupid cow and I felt ashamed of it. While I almost drowned in self-pity, I had forgotten who Father Michael was and what he once had been for me. But now I remembered again. He was my angel, who would save me.

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