When he woke up, Matthew immediately knew he wasn't at his home. His back was really cold and wet and he heard cattle grunting and mooing in the distance. Slowly he sat up, and looked around. He recognized the house to his left immediately as the one he'd spent his childhood in.

"Morning, sunshine."

Matt turned to look at Kharma. Today she looked like a mid-western farm girl, with her hair in braids and cowboy boots peeking out from below her Wrangler jeans. He just shook his head and turned back towards the house. "What are we doing here?"

"What do you think think we're doing here?"

"I think you're going to shove my Mother's suffering down my throat again." He answered, and while he wanted to sound tough and calloused, his voice broke when he said Mother.

"Actually, this stop has nothing to do with your mom. Get up and follow me," she ordered and he obeyed.

They walked around the house to the cul-de-sac street. Matthew's home was the last home on the right side of the street. In front of them, several preteen kids were riding bicycles both in the road and on the sidewalks. Laughter and inane chatter filled the air and it seemed like an idyllic scene of suburban life. Until a shrill scream filled the air.

In the next second, Matthew and Kharma were standing just behind a young girl who was crying and wringing her hands. In front of her lay a doll whose head had been ran over by a bicycle wheel. A group of the older kids, a twelve year old Matthew included, surrounded the upset child.

"Shut up you little retard," her older brother said. "Our parents are gonna hear you and I'll get in trouble."

This just made the girl, who clearly was autistic, cry harder. She was now sitting on the ground, rocking and holding her hands over her ears. Now all the kids were chanting at the child, calling her names and causing her to become terrified and even more vocal.

"Hey, shut up!" The younger Matthew roared while shoving the girl. She fell over and began hyperventilating.

A sharp bang filled the air as the front door of the nearest home was flung open. Mr. Flannery came stalking across the yard and most of the kids scattered. But not Matt... no, he was rooted to the spot by fear. Mr. Flannery was a very large man, and a police officer to boot.

He stopped in front of Matt and locked eyes on him. Out of the side of his mouth he addressed the brother of the girl. "Jimmy, you take your sister into the house and get her a glass of milk. Once she's calmed down you get a piece of paper and write down the name of all those kids."

Jimmy just nodded and gathered his sister up. As he walked by, his father added, "Have your mother call Mrs. Romanov and tell her she can come pick Matthew up from the station."

All the color left young Matthew's face when he heard this and he began crying despite his best effort.

From the shadows, Kharma turned to Matt and searched his face. It was still stony and full of anger. "What bothers you most about what happened that day? And remember, I'll know if you're lying."

He was silent for a moment as he searched his own brain for the right answer. "Truthfully? I'm mostly angry that Jimmy started the whole thing, and yet I was the one Mr. Flannery took to the police station and got suspended from school."

Kharma held his gaze and then began walking towards Jimmy's house, beckoning for him to follow. Somehow, by the time they were standing outside the patio door, it was dark out, making it easy to see inside the house.

Inside, Mrs. Flannery was sitting in a rocking chair holding the girl, Rose. The light from a lamp on the table next to her was reflecting in the tears that gathered on her eyelashes, before dropping onto her cheeks. Deep scratches could be seen on her arms from where the overwhelmed and overstimulated girl had fought her embrace before finally falling asleep.

In the next second, Kharma and Matt were standing outside one of the smaller bedroom windows. Inside, Jimmy was leaned over his bed while his father delivered several lashings with his belt.

"Flannery took you in because he knew you wouldn't get the punishment you deserved otherwise. You did actually put your hands on that little girl, after all."

He turned away from the window. "But getting suspended went on my record. It kept me from getting into an elite college."

"Listen to yourself!" Kharma clenched her fists. "I didn't get into an elite college."

This time when they jumped places, they were looking into the window of Matthew's own house. His mother was on her knees in the living room, praying and crying, asking for God to forgive Matthew and to please allow him to become a great man and overcome these bad behaviors.

"The restraint of Mr. Flannery and the faith of your mother are the only reasons you got into any college at all. Don't you get it, Matthew? Had it not been for Louise's constant good deeds and sacrifices, I never would've granted her desire for you to be given every opportunity to succeed. Lucky for you, the fruitful seeds she sowed kept you from paying the full price for your wrongdoing."

"What are you talking about? My success is from my hard-work and the fact that I overcame the handicaps I was given in my childhood."

"Oh, what complete horseshit!" Kharma could no longer laugh at this guy. "Poor little white guy who had a Momma who loved him beyond reason. I can't imagine what a nightmare it was to be born so smart and so good-looking. Born so poor that you had to endure watching your mom work two jobs just to ensure you had a full belly. It's a wonder you didn't jump off a cliff with all that going against you."

Kharma reared her leg back and kicked him square in the back and into a present day homeless camp in Chicago.

Matthew looked around for Kharma, but didn't see her anywhere. He felt fear, along with the bitter cold creeping up his back. Not sure if he was visible to those around him, he crept closer to one of the burning trash barrels.

There was a young mom standing on the other side, holding two little kids close to her sides. Their eyes were huge and practically glowed with the reflection of the fire.

"Momma, I'm hungry," cried the boy. His mother just smiled down at him.

"I know you are, son. Let's lay down and go to sleep and in the morning we'll get some food at the shelter."

Matthew watched as she made a place on the ground out of the blanket and backpack she carried, and then pulled the two kids against her and wrapped them as tightly as she could. Just before closing her eyes, she looked directly at Matthew and he could see the bruises and swelling marring her features.

A few hours later, Matthew approached the burn barrel with a handful of things he found to feed the fire. He was startled when he realized Kharma was there and leaning over the woman and her children in all her angelic glory.

"What are you doing?"

She stood and faced him. "I'm doing my job."

He was confused for a moment and then he realized what she meant. "No! You can't..."

"Can't what, Matthew?"

"They c-can't... they died?"

"Yes. It's negative three degrees out here. That combined with their other injuries caused death." Kharma looked down at the three bodies. Their spirits were resting peacefully now.

"Why would you do that! They couldn't possibly deserve this."

"First of all, I didn't do this. I don't bring death, I just escort souls after they've died. And second, this is a much kinder outcome than what could've been."

"That's just the excuse you and your Father use when you couldn't save some one."

"ENOUGH!" The otherworldly roar filled his senses and he fell to his knees. He felt a hand grip his head and suddenly images flashed through his brain. A man sneaking into a room and touching a little girl. Sick! She fights and the man punches her little body and she cries out. Now the boy runs in to protect his sister and gets a fist to his chest and face. No! Now Mom comes in and jumps on him. He pushes her into a door frame face first and lands blows to her ribs. He's punching and kicking and here comes the boy with a bat. The one his real dad gave him before he died. The bat cracks and there's silence.

Kharma is breathing hard. "Do you know why they ended up here instead of a shelter where they would have been warm and safe?"

Matthew was suddenly scared as he watched her calm face. There was a memory pushing around the edges of his brain.

"There was a Battered Women's shelter between here and where they lived. One they could easily have made it to. But the shelter's number one source of donations was cut off last year, causing them to have to close several locations."

The buzzing in his brain increased in volume. "No..."

"Oh yes, indeed. You see, this selfish prick of a pastor needed a helicopter to travel between his mega churches. So the natural thing to do was to cut some of the charities they were supporting." Kharma was shaking with the need to hurt this sorry asshole.

"You go right on ahead and keep blaming Yahweh and me all you want, Matthew Roman. I'll keep escorting souls to Heaven and Hell and count down the days that I get to deliver you to your biggest nightmare. Because, whatever my brother told you... Hell isn't a place that he rules and can grant favors. Hell is your worst day, a day that'll make you wish you were dead, played on an eternal loop."

With that, she spread her wings and pulled the three shining souls into her embrace, folding her wings around them before they disappeared into thin air.