I am allowed at sessions now.

The stubby Senior staying in my room makes a habit of wrapping my head in sickly-colored, green lace each morning. Everything but my eyes, and my offhand strands of seared coffee-colored hair, is covered in green. I do not think he or any Senior here realizes how disturbing this looks. Children give me the side-eye.

The Seniors judge my lacerations as disagreeable, so they allow this unpleasant habit of his to continue.

The silk lace reflects the sun’s rays in such a way that my head seems to mold into that of a feisty, nine-legged arachnid…

A plump green spider, with squinty eyes and shaggy, brunette legs, morphed into the torso of a small girl with little girl arms and little girl legs, moving about…

What an unnerving sight.

At least I am here, towards the back, with the Seniors on the more “mature” side.

Senior Mark is going on about the mercy of death, a concept not touched upon much in this congregation. The mention of death is not something most Seniors are fond of.

I can see them, shifting in their seats, uncomfortable.

They look… silly.

Like stout, pale, wriggling worms…

I do not understand what about it agitates them so… I do not find death so, demoralizing.

Well, the thought of losing my friend is. The thought of him dying terrifies me.

He is not… doing so well.

I hid him, and care for him, yet he stays sickly.

I do not know what to do. I am not a doctor!

But… I will not give up on him!

Senior Mark glares in my direction. I sense he knows I hid him. There was a search, with no results. Children were bribed, with no results. This sermon is just another attempt to find him and it will end again, with no results. I grin under my laced face.

Being here in the back has opened my mind. I can see everything that goes on.

There is no one that stops me from doing so; no probing, no poking, no pricks.

Half the Seniors here are fast asleep. Light snoring can be heard from them. This makes me giggle. I can sense Senior Mark’s glares again. I face forward, indulging him.

Although, something of notice, is the child currently occupying my previous seat at the front. That particular Senior, with his constant jabs, is tormenting that poor child.

He does enjoy it.

I always speculated if he did. Watching his grotesque face twist in pleasure confirms it… how disgusting.

This… irritates me.

More than this tight lace constricting me, more than Senior Mark’s condescending glares, and more on par with the malignant mistreatment of my friend.

The Seniors appear more and more like depraved, abhorrent fools.

“Shall I kill them?” my angel muses.

!!