Page 91 of Empowered
She could either double-down as Sarah and feel nothing for the rest of her life. Or she could try to chip what she could from Angel and hope to feel normal again.
Before, I would have doubled-down. After all, I have to be the one who gets through this shit alive when everyone else is dying around me.That’s what she told herself until her family finally went out to get some fresh air, leaving her behind in her quiet apartment.
Without her mother breathing over her shoulder, Sarah opened her closet and dug out the clothes she wore whenever she “became” Angel. The wig. The sexy underwear. The slinky dresses and bombastic boots. Her mother hadn’t come into the closet once during her stay. If she had, Sarah would have heard all about these obvious choices in wardrobe – they were in that video, weren’t they?
Sarah held the blond wig in her hand and stared at the dress she had worn the night she met Lucas.
You did that, Angel. You hooked us a man who’s in love with me.Sarah would never be able to get rid of that dress for that reason, even if she never wore it again.
He’s the only man who has seen both of these sides so intimately…
Sarah wanted to feel it. To feel the love Lucas so desperately wanted from her in turn.
In order to love the man who had done so much for her, she needed to embrace every emotion she had shoved into these boots and bras. That included desire.
And anger.
So. Much. Anger.
Sarah pulled her T-shirt and jeans off her body before reentering the walk-in closet. She passed the work pantsuits, the everyday street clothes, and even the outfit she wore the night she met Lucas. The only thing she still held in her hand was the blond wig.
She adorned herself in all black. Boots. Garters. Underwear. Dress. Coat. She pulled the wig on her head, gingerly tucking her real hair beneath the cap. While she didn’t pull out her makeup, she still recognized the woman who was in that damned sex tape.
“You’re a no good whore, aren’t you?” she asked the mirror in her closet. “Absolutely no shame.”
Sarah stepped out of the closet and opened a box on her vanity. Her more expensive jewelry lurked within. Diamond earrings. Tennis bracelet. A few heirlooms her mother gave her when she graduated college.
A black-beaded bracelet the woman at the funeral home had given her a year and a half ago.
“Just because you don’t have anything else from your baby doesn’t mean his soul isn’t out there somewhere. These beads give mothers comfort.”Like rosary beads, Sarah supposed. She had never been religious, but she had kept the beads. Why not? The woman had been right. Sarah had nothing else from the child stolen from her.
She slipped it onto her wrist. Something glittered in the overhead light. When she held her wrist up to her face, she saw a flat, silver bead with the inscription“God Gave All Angels Wings.”
When she lowered her arm again, the anger finally claimed her. Anger she could not fly away from, no matter how many broken wings God gave this Angel.
