Page 5 of Unholy Fate

Client after client filed in, each with a wrenching hardship. An elderly veteran fighting an unjust eviction. A disabled man wrongly denied disability benefits. A grandmother seeking custody of her addict daughter’s children.

I did my best to offer solid counsel, connect them with what scant resources existed and buoy their spirits. But the tide of suffering seemed endless. By the time the final client left, my eyes burned from unshed tears and exhaustion.

Rubbing my aching neck, I pushed back from the desk and nearly collided with Serena emerging from her cubby. Her young face looked as haggard as I felt, strands of hair escaping her simple bun.

“I haven’t seen so many cases of infection and malnutrition before,” she said quietly. “The need here is so great.”

“I know,” I sighed. “But we did some real good today, Serena. You’ve begun the process of healing for some. I’m hoping I’ve prevented a few people from falling through the cracks and thrown a life preserver to others.”

She managed a wan smile at my praise. I squeezed her shoulder and she turned back to her cubicle.

Frank, one of my earlier clients, walked quickly into the small area, blocking our path. Disheveled, with unwashed hair and wide, wild eyes, he had come seeking help with a disability claim.

Instead of giving me the information I asked for, he spent most of our short session making inappropriate comments and staring at me in a way that made my skin crawl.

I’d made a note to ask the people running the center if a mental health visit was possible for him.

“Well hello, Sister,” he grimaced, exposing yellowed teeth, before stepping uncomfortably close. The sour stench of unwashed clothes and cheap alcohol enveloped me. He’d beendrinking since we spoke, only an hour ago. Probably self-medicating.

“Fancy running into you so soon. Must be fate, eh?” The look he gave me could only be described as a leer.

I forced a polite expression while subtly positioning myself between him and Serena. “I’m sorry, Frank, but we are very busy. Perhaps we can continue this discussion next week?”

“Aw, don’t be like that, beautiful,” he wheedled, reaching out to touch a strand of my hair, invading my personal space. I flinched back instinctively. “A pretty thing like you deserves some fun. Whaddya say we ditch the kid here and go grab a drink, hmm?”

White hot anger surged in my veins. How dare he proposition me, a woman of God, like some barfly whore? I wanted to slap the lascivious grin right off his stubbled face.

Biting back the scathing retort on my tongue, I drew myself up to my full height and fixed him with a steely gaze. “Mr. Brown, I’ll thank you to remember that I am here as a lawyer, not a potential date. Now please, step aside so we may pass. Immediately.”

Something ugly flickered in the bloodshot depths of his eyes for a moment, but then he backed away, hands raised in mocking supplication. “No offense meant, Sister. Thought you Catholic types were all about making babies. Fuckin’ is fuckin’. No need to get all high and mighty about it, butwhatever.”

I fought down the urge to tell Frank exactly what I thought of his drunken advances in language most unbecoming for a bride of Christ. Wrath bubbled like acid in my gut.

Lord forgive me, I prayed silently, tallying my sins as I once again sat at the table and readied myself for the next poor soul.Forgive my uncharitable thoughts and deliver me from anger’s wicked temptation.An extra decade on the rosary tonight for certain, and perhaps some volunteer shifts in the soup kitchen as penance.

Serena returned to her station, looking shaken by the situation, but thankfully not discussing what had happened. Settled, we immersed ourselves once more into our work. As I helped the next man sort through a stack of overdue bills and court summons, offering what meager help I could, Frank burst back into the room. His eyes darted wildly and spittle flew from his lips as he raved.

“They’re coming, Can’t you see? The demons are upon us,” He jabbed a bony finger at the dingy walls. “Hell itself will swallow this place whole if we don’t run now.”

Wondering where the regular staff of the shelter were, I stood slowly, keeping my voice level and soothing. “Frank, everything is all right. You’re safe here. Why don’t we step outside and?—”

He lunged forward and seized my arm in a viselike grip. Panic shot through me as his ragged nails dug into my skin. I tried to pull away but his strength was fueled by madness.

“Let go of me, Frank. You’re hurting me.” Despite my best efforts, fear strained my words.

The man I’d been assisting scrambled back then ran out of my makeshift office.

Serena grabbed his shirt and pulled backward, yelling, “Help!”

Shouts rang out as others noticed the commotion. I couldn’t breathe. Lord help me, I prayed desperately, fighting the urge to lash out, to strike my attacker as adrenaline flooded my veins.

As Frank’s wild gaze bored into mine and his fingers bruised my flesh, no prayers for his tortured soul came to my lips.

Terror choked me as surely as Frank’s iron grip. Irrational fear flooded me, that I was going to die, at the hands of a madman. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

Suddenly, Frank’s grasp was wrenched away. A tall dark-skinned, handsome man that looked like he could be Idris Elba’s stunt doubletowered over him.

Serena rushed to insert herself between me and the men. The shelter director appeared at my side next and ordered Frank to stand down.

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