Page 9 of Fallen Angel

She snapped her hands into fists and shoved them to her sides. Hannah fastened her eyes shut and sucked in another deep breath to keep herself from reliving the worst moment of her life all over again. It was all a bit too much to wrap her head around. She stepped out from under the edge of the cliff and let the rain wash her tears away.

That was the difficult thing about starting over. Even though no one knew of Hannah’s past, it was impossible for her to forget.

Hannah arrivedat the dorm building and took solace from the rain under the arched brick entrance. Her eyes stung from crying. She wrung out her sopping sweatshirt before going inside.

She walked into her room and was greeted by a cheesy aroma. Amelia, Bryce, and Landon were gathered around a massive pizza, oozing with sauce, topped with sizzling pepperoni. While Amelia’s legs were swung over Bryce’s lap on the edge of Amelia’s bed, Landon sat at Hannah’s desk. Hannah looked like a wet dog, and she certainly didn’t feel like small talk after her meltdown on the beach.

“Hannah, oh my god, what happened?” Amelia squealed, her high-pitched voice impaled Hannah’s ears.

“I went for a run and it’s raining,” Hannah said, stating the obvious. She kept her head down to keep them from seeing her bloodshot eyes.

“Was it a mud run?” Bryce said under his breath.

Landon was quick to jump out of Hannah’s desk chair and stood uncomfortably close to her face.

“You’re bleeding pretty bad,” he said.

Hannah touched her finger to the corner of her forehead and felt it sting. A small amount of blood stained her finger. “I tripped,” she said. “It’s no big deal. Really. I’m fine.”

“Tough guy,” Bryce announced and raised his fist into the air as if saluting Hannah’s bravery. She feigned a tepid smile.

“You should let me help you get this cleaned up,” Landon said. He moved closer to inspect the cut, but Hannah turned her head and avoided his gaze. Landon immediately stepped back and softly clapped his hands together. “I clearly need the practice if I’m going to defy your premed success rates.”

“It’s nothing,” Hannah said, stepping away. She forced another smile. “Just going to take a shower.” She gathered her shower tote and towel. “I’ll see you guys later,” she said, making sure her smile was apparent to everyone. Despite her strained sunny demeanor, Hannah knew that she wasn’t fooling anyone, especially herself.

On Monday morning,Hannah arrived at her first class. The massive lecture hall was in an ancient stone building. The room was round with stone walls and high-reaching rafters. It smelled of old parchment and chalk dust.

Hannah was one of the first students to enter the classroom. She climbed the stairs to sit in the back of the lecture hall at a curved, rich redwood table. Other students trickled in, most in gym clothes and pajamas—probably taking advantage of the fact that there was no dress code. Hannah must have missed the memo. She tugged at her white cable knit sweater.

Promptly at 9:00 am, the professor took her position in front of the podium. “Hello, everyone. My name is Professor Nina Cruz, and this is Intro to Anthropology.” Her powerful voice echoed through the lecture hall. She was petite, in her mid-forties with long, straight black hair and tawny beige skin. “Why do people study anthropology?” The class was silent. “Don’t be shy. It’s not a trick question. Why are you here?”

Generic answers flew across the classroom:To understand people; to observe how people act; to learn the difference between cultures; to find reasoning behind certain human behavior…

“Yes, yes…good, good,” Professor Cruz said, unsatisfied. “While you’re hitting on all very relevant aspects of anthropological studies, we can go a bit deeper. Anyone?”

“To learn about ourselves,” Hannah said, too quiet for anyone to hear.

Professor Cruz perked up and located her in the back of the classroom. She pointed at Hannah.

“Expand on that,” she said.

Hannah shifted in her seat, uncomfortable at all the heads in the room turning to look at her. She felt her face heat up, and rogue static danced on her skin. “I guess if we are able to study and understand other cultures across the world, we might be able to discover where we, ourselves, belong.”

Professor Cruz smiled. “Yes. While it is interesting to explore people on an individual basis and as a member of society—which we will be doing lots of this semester—a lot of it boils down to our natural desire to belong.”

Hannahbelongedwith her parents. After they died, she drifted through self-imposed isolation. She felt an emptiness that could only be filled by answers. She wanted reasons for something unreasonable—explanations for something inexplicable. But she knew it was time to leave old quests behind. It was time to find her new place in the world.

She allowed a small smile to form. She straightened in her seat and intently listened to Professor Cruz’s every word.

“Whether you look at familial units, community groups, religious organizations, or political parties,” Prof. Cruz said, “this is a common theme. Everyone wants to find their people. To find their truth. To find their home.”

She continued with her introductory lecture and outlined what the semester would look like. The class reviewed the syllabus, and Professor Cruz discussed the most important part of the class grade.

“Your final paper will be a research study of any element within a culture. It is up to you whether you want to research the role of women in a given culture, economic systems within a specific society, or religious beliefs or practices. However, choose wisely, because it will account for fifty percent of your final grade.” The class gasped and groaned at the weight of one assignment. “And because you were all supposed to come to class today prepared with a topic in mind,” she continued, “why don’t we use the rest of the class to share and workshop ideas.”

Hannah gulped. While she had decided to further research a topic in the Occult and Mysticism room in the library, that was before she heard the voice whispering her name. If she could avoid going back there, she would. Thankfully, as other students pitched an array of topics—body modification in sub-Sahara Africa, the role of women in Norse society, Islamic cosmology—class time ran out.

Hannah joined her classmates in filing toward the exit of the lecture hall. Hannah walked down the stairs and she passed Professor Cruz’s podium.

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