Chapter Text
The cold is something that you’re decently accustomed to.
Sure, it’s not entirely fun being cold, but at least you can add layers upon layers until you’re at the desired warmth (or maybe less if you want to be at all mobile).
There is a difference, however, between being cold in a place you’re familiar with and being cold while you’re practically stranded inside a car on the side of the road.
The woodland that surrounds the road is thick, each tree trunk not giving much room between each other to see too far in. Not that you could discern the trunks from the ones beside it, though, considering just how much rain was pouring down and covering the window. Much like the trees, the grey clouds above you were thick. Billowy. The kind you only thought you’d see in children’s picture books about how you shouldn’t be scared of storms.
God, do you wish you were stuck anywhere but here right now.
The trip you decided to take to get away from your hometown was done entirely on a whim. You had no real destination in mind, just a few sets of clothes and some hope you carried with you anywhere you went. It’s something that others admired you for having, hope. Your seemingly endless optimism when encountering new environments and situations never went unnoticed, and even some of your closest friends mused about how they wish they were like you.
In all reality, it was a sort of coping mechanism. Facing your anxiety is awful. It makes you feel rancid, like you shouldn’t feel the way you do. So, you put on a brave face and push through it. In the end, most of the time, things turn out alright and there isn't any real reason to be anxious, but it sets up this risk and reward system that only encourages you to push aside your feelings constantly, never to be open and honest about how truly nerve-wracking these situations are. Even if they’re as minor as just a visit to a cafe you’re unfamiliar with. You know this well, and it's a part of you that you dwell on often to the point that you could beat a therapist to the punch if they ever brought it up. Or if you ever went to one.
This situation was no different, really. You were rationalising your thoughts, ignoring the racing heart in your chest.
You didn’t know what to do. No signal, no idea what’s wrong with the car, and no way out what with the rain.
Even after a nap, you weren’t able to figure out what to do. You tried to sleep through the night, but the loud thuds on the roof of your car didn’t allow you to sleep for much longer than maybe fifteen minutes, leaving you feeling worse than before.
Curling up in the driver’s seat, a voice speaks up from inside your head.
Fuck it. Get out of the car and find help.
What? No, that’s stupid. It’s absolutely pissing down, you’d be drenched before you even reached anywhere dry. You don’t even know if there’s anywhere to go!
But the voice - the urge - doesn’t stop. The longer you sit in that car with your knees as close to your chest as possible, the stronger the voice in your head is telling you to go. It’s like a kid nagging you to do something. The more you try to reason with it, the more it fights back, until it all comes to a kicking and screaming, biting and punching climax, and you open the door.
Then you close it again because you need to at least wear something warm if you’re going to get drenched.
Once you put on a hoodie, which is the extent of the warm clothes you currently have in your car, you finally step out into the pouring rain and start walking down the road, the harsh thwacks of raindrops hitting the top of your head as you move. You swear you saw somewhere that, statistically, you'd probably get less wet in the rain if you ran, but, quite frankly, you don't want to risk slipping and falling onto wet concrete today.
The rain never subsides as you make your way down the road, keeping its almost numbing rhythm at a steady pace, much like your own walking speed. At some point, you notice a trodden-in dirt road stemming from the side of the asphalt you've been following, diverging further into the woods. The pathway seems intentional, or at least accurately accounted for, considering the divet in the concrete leading out to it. Ease-of-access for other drivers heading in and out, you're sure.
Looking down the makeshift road, you present yourself with a choice - quite literally a fork in the road. You could go down the mysterious path, or go further down the road you'd been following. Or, better yet, make your way back to your car and ignore all your problems.
Well, considering you're already as wet as a kitten fresh from the bath, it wouldn't be a great idea to take yourself up on the latter option, and also taking into account that you genuinely have no idea what either road leads you to... The trodden path seems the most reliable in terms of actually getting somewhere safe. You just hope that your intuition is correct, and that the mud doesn't soak into your shoes.
The trek down the dirt road is not awfully pleasant, to say the least. The aforementioned mud, while not breaking into any crevices of your shoes just yet, is still dirtying them up pretty bad. They're your favourite shoes, too...
Well, no they aren't, you just want to be dramatic to entertain yourself in the moment. But hey, at least this path has noticeably less rain! The canopy above the path, while not entirely blocking you from rain, lets the drops go from a hellstorm atop your skull to a momentary hit every few milliseconds. Still not great, but an improvement.
You walk down the road, your mind filled with the loud, raucous noise of absolutely nothing and everything at the same time, hoping that wherever this leads to is coming up soon. You could really go for something to eat right about now… Did you pack any snacks in the car? It’s too late to go and check now. You swear you saw a pack of chips in the passenger seat. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Or from the last time you drove, perhaps. When was the last time you drove…?
Eventually, you find yourself standing in front of…
A fucking mansion?
Something like that. It doesn’t have much in the way of courtyards - there isn’t one at all - but there is a set of smooth stone stairs leading up to what you can only assume to be the front door with a quaint little mailbox just a few feet away, and some cars parked off to the side in the mud.
Jesus christ, the building is larger than anything you could even imagine being at the end of this road. It’s almost like a church, if the church had taken fifteen litres of pre-work out smoothies and an assortment of other steroids it got out of butt-fucking nowhere.
Maybe this isn’t the best place to go for help. You’ve never been much of a religious person, you’ve maybe taken up Religious Education as a kid to get out of school work and only learned about Christianity specifically because god forbid a child is raised in some other religion.
But, well… Christians are supposed to be supportive and helpful, right? Surely they’d be willing to assist if you just… Played the part of a good Christian?
Before you decide to do anything like that, you sit your wet-kitten-ass down on the top of the stairs, out of the rain. If you had any time to believe in a God, it’d be now. Finally being free from the rain for at least a moment and having some time to rest your legs would send you into being a devout Christian with no need to feign faithfulness to get help from the religious building you’re currently sitting in front of.
Though it’s not enough to push you over the edge quite yet.
You take your shoes off to let the dogs breathe for a bit, your socks surprisingly dry after the trudge you took to get here. Stretching out your limbs, you feel a wave of relief finally crash over you, and it feels like your soul leaves your body once you relax again. A good stretch. Great stretch.
Now that you’re finally out of the woods (both figuratively and semi-literally), something hits you right in the diaphragm.
Regret.
Guilt.
No, shit, don’t do that. Don’t regret leaving the place you grew up in. Don’t feel guilty for leaving behind everyone who you wanted to loved you. This is good for you. It is. You need this.
Remember what it was like back there? You had almost no one, nothing.
It’s not like they’re gonna report you as missing, you left a note saying you were leaving.
You quit your job already.
You have it all set up to work perfectly.
No one ever said leaving is easy. You will miss what you wish you had, but you can work through this. You will!
You’re going to be okay.
Look at you, being optimistic! That’s the one thing people knew you for. Optimism.
Don’t feel guilty.
Don’t regret this.
It’s going to be okay.
You take your medically-prescribed deep breaths in and out, pressing your middle and ring fingers against the pad of your thumb repeatedly to elicit a sort of calming effect on yourself, stopping intermittently to shake your hands up and down.
In and out, up and down, one-two-three-four…
“Hello?”
You yelp, shocked out of your attempt at calming down.
“Shi- augh- shoot,” you press your hand against your chest, “Sorry, you scared me. Obviously. ”
Now’s the time to act Christian.
Looking over your shoulder to see who startled you, a small figure stands in the way of one of the open doors to the church, a gentle yellow light emitting from behind her.
“I see,” she starts, amusement clear in her voice, “I’m sorry for scaring you. Are you… lost, perhaps?”
“Uh, yeah, but… Uhm, I came for help? But not with being lost, I don’t- uhm, I don’t mind that.” You angle yourself to better face the lady, “My car broke down just up the road and, uh… I dunno why but I thought I’d find somewhere to ask for help, and… Uh, well, seeing a church, I hope I’d see if I could find help from fellow church members.”
The woman tilts her head, “But we’re quite a good distance from the main road. How could you have known that we’re here?”
You pause, eyes widening.
“Lucky guess?”
“Fellow church members?”
“Yeah… Y’know, like… Christians? Er- well, I assume this is a Christian church, it- uhm- it certainly looks the part!”
“Oh…” She sucks in air through her teeth, “If you’re looking for a Christian church, you’re certainly not in the right place, I’m sorry…”
Yet another wave of relief sweeps through you.
“Oh thank god, I’m not even Christian. I just thought I’d have a better chance of help if I pretended I was to whoever’s here.”
The lady laughs, opening the door slightly further.
“No, no, we are certainly not Christians,” she breathes in, stepping just a bit further out of the doorway, “But I’m sure we’ll be able to help you. Once you get dry, of course - awful weather we’re having, aren’t we?”
You politely laugh in return, “Yeah, not the greatest, I’d say. But, uh- thank you. Really, that’s very kind of you.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. I’ll just go grab you a towel before you come inside, we don’t want the floor to get all dirty, do we?”
“Uh- what?” The apparent offer to enter the premises took you by surprise.
“You- uhm, don’t- you don’t have to, I can just- I’m- I’m fine staying out here.”
She shifts her weight onto one foot, and if you were at all able to see her face you know she’d have the most incredulous look adorned upon it.
“Don’t kid yourself, you’re absolutely soaked through, and I’m sure you’re just as cold to match. I won’t be a minute.”
The door closes and you’re met with the sound of thundering rain and nothing else once more. She didn’t even give you the option to decline! What a woman…
Hey, chill now, you don’t even have her name. Or her face! Or, like, anything to define her with other than her voice and the possibility that she might be shorter than you. Keep it together, you fucking weirdo.
You decide that the best course of action right now is to take off your hoodie. At this point, it isn’t even keeping you warm anymore, it’s just a massive weight of wetness stuck on your shoulders that, if it had a mind of its own, would probably want you dead for making it be your soul protector from the elements.
You had a good run, kid. Time to rest.
Folding up the hoodie, you stretch out once more, and before you know it the lovely lady returns.
She approaches you, towel draped over a forearm, as you turn around and stand up.
Huh... same height. Nevermind.
“Alright, here you go,” she hands you the towel for you to drape over yourself, “Get yourself as dry as you can, then we’ll head inside and get you situated in front of something warm.”
You press the towel against you as tactfully as you can, maximising dryness and minimising effort.
“Thank you so much, really, this is more than I could’ve asked for, like, at all,” you timidly state.
“Nonsense, you’re good to stay here as long as you need,” she replies, almost offhandedly.
“What… Seriously?”
She nods. “Seriously. It’s the least we can offer.”
Your eyebrows knit together in a pathetic display of gratefulness, “Thank you… I- Yeah- I keep saying that and it’s probably annoying, but… Yeah, thank you so much. This means a lot to me.”
“You’re absolutely welcome. Now,” she steps aside, “Let’s get you inside.”
You can see her a bit more clearly now; she’s an older woman with her hair neatly tied back in a long ponytail.
“Yeah, let’s- uhm… Uh, actually, can I ask for your name please?"
“Ah, right. You can call me Sister Imperator.”