FIONA
The question struck me like a smack to the face.
“I…no!” I said quickly, the denial instinctive. “That’s not why I heal people.”
“Of course not,” he nodded. But I could tell that there was no real agreement in his answer. “But if that is the case,” he went on, “then why are you so eager to be seen doing it?”
“I’m not eager…”
But he wouldn’t let me speak. “Every life you touch becomes a story,” he said, his voice still soft, still maddeningly calm. “Every story becomes praise. And every piece of that praise builds you up as someone they should believe in.”
My throat tightened.
“I can’t control what people say or believe.” I managed to spit out.
“Ah. And yet here just moments ago, you accused me of lying for the same exact reason. Another man’s belief.” He pressed his lips t
