My dear friend, it's been too long since I thanked you for standing by me, for never judging me, and for being my rock through all this madness. I love how I feel today, and I undoubtedly owe that to you. If I couldn't share what I'm going through with you every single day, I'd be a total wreck. But like I said, today… today everything is wonderful.
I went for a walk far from the castle, heading toward Loch Ness, which I could see from the upper rooms. It was cold and gray, but the moment I arrived, the sun broke through—as if saying, "Hey, Carmilla, good morning"—and warmed my skin.
A woman and her daughter were there, taking photos. The girl, who looked about eleven, started jumping up and down the second she recognized me. The mother introduced herself politely as Grace, but the little girl threw her arms around me as if we'd known each other forever.
"Can I please take a picture with you?" she begged. "Otherwise, my friends are never going to believe I hung out with Carmilla Morris!"
I smiled. "Of course you can. Just promise me you won't show anyone until next week, after we've left. It's a secret. No one can know we're here."
I'll never forget her smile. She gave me another hug goodbye, and her mother took my hand, tears welling in her eyes as she thanked me. "You just changed our whole day. God put you in my path. You're so kind."
"Wait, come back," I said, taking her hand again. "Give me your hand."
When she did, I focused. And I have to tell you, my friend, I will never complain about these powers again. Like a movie playing out in rapid flashes, I saw that the woman had been widowed not long ago, and everything had gone downhill since. Her daughter's depression over losing her father forced Grace to miss work, which led to her being fired and eventually evicted from their rental. She barely had enough money to survive; she hadn't even eaten dinner the night before so the little food they had would last for her daughter. In my mind, the definition of a good mother will always look like Grace.
"Would you mind driving me to your town?" I asked them. "I'd love to see it."
The little girl skipped all the way to the car. Grace asked for permission to keep taking photos of me every now and then, and I agreed on the condition that she tell me about her life.
But instead of dwelling on her hardships, and knowing her daughter was listening, she chose to say, "We've had a rough couple of years, but we have each other, and everything is going to be fine. I'm finally getting back into photography after a long time. I can't complain. A lot of families go through the same thing. Like I always tell her, there's a time to laugh, a time to cry, and a time to fight. Right now, we're fighting, and I know we're going to make it."
I loved her for protecting her little girl like that. But I knew the truth: she was a million miles away from being happy. She was terrified—deathly afraid of ending up living in the large, aging car that was waiting for us.
You know how rusted cars give me anxiety, my friend. Grace must have noticed. She apologized for its appearance, saying, "I had to sell our old one. This is just temporary." Of course, I was the one apologizing for the look of sheer terror on my face, explaining that I had a phobia stemming from my childhood accident. She replied that she knew—that they knew everything the press said about me. So, holding my breath, I climbed into the front seat next to her. With her daughter in the back, arms wrapped tightly around my neck as if I were her new best friend, we set off.
I almost cried tears of joy when I saw a beautiful city just a twenty-minute drive away. Grace noticed and said, "Welcome to Inverness, in the northeast of the country, where the River Ness meets the Moray Firth. It's the largest city in the Scottish Highlands."
"Please, Mom, I want Carmilla to see my room!" the girl pleaded. "I have a poster of her on my wall!"
"No, sweetie, I'm sure she has things to do," Grace replied. Then, lowering her voice so her daughter wouldn't hear, she added, "The apartment is temporary too. I'm sorry—I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"I'd love to see it, if it's no trouble," I told them.
The girl shrieked, "Are you crazy? How could it be trouble? By the way, my name is Ava, and I'm going to be the most popular girl in school when I post on Instagram that you're in my bedroom!"
I didn't want to focus and look into her memories; it felt invasive. But it didn't take much to guess that her neatly brushed, coppery hair spoke of a mother's deep love, just as much as her need to show me off to the world revealed a desperate desire to be liked.
"How do your school friends treat you?" I asked.
"Sometimes they tease me because I'm a bit spacey," she answered. "But that doesn't matter anymore, because now you're my best friend, right?"
I smiled and kissed her cheek, and she planted an even bigger, enthusiastic kiss on mine.
We arrived at a set of run-down apartments. Grace hesitated as she reached for the door handle. She looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. Like I said, it's temporary until things get better."
The moment we walked in, Ava grabbed my hand and led me straight to her room. It was the only room in that tiny place with a fresh coat of paint, though it still couldn't completely hide the dampness. On the wall, just as she'd said, was my photo—the iconic one taken at the airport where I'm wearing the pilot cap. She looked at me with absolute certainty.
"When I grow up, I'm going to be just like you. A hero who saves people and defeats the bad guys."
I smiled softly. "It won't be long. You're already almost as tall as me, so you'll be grown up soon. But let me give you some advice: you should try to be like your mom. She's the real hero."
Hearing this, Grace started to cry, but she quickly hid it from her daughter. "Come on, Ava, get ready. You can't be late for school."
The girl grumbled and looked at me, searching for an ally, but I wasn't about to contradict her mother.
While the little girl was getting ready, I glanced around the living room and kitchen. The scarcity was undeniable: the glass-front cabinets were completely empty, except for a single sleeve of crackers.
When Ava came out, she looked radiant, but her lips were pressed tightly together, as if she were biting them. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Don't you like school?"
"No, I love studying," she replied. "I'm just biting my lips to practice. I keep telling myself, 'I have to keep the secret! No one can know that Carmilla, my best friend, came to my house!' It's only for a week, and then I'll tell everyone."
In the apartment, I noticed an old motorcycle helmet and a pair of large black sunglasses. I offered to buy them so I could walk around the city without being recognized, but Grace waved it off.
"Just take them. They belonged to my husband. I could never sell them. Just return them to me before you leave—send them back somehow, or let me know where you left them and I'll pick them up, don't worry. He was brave, just like you, and I know he would have wanted you to have them. You know what? Yes—he would have given them to you without a second thought, so they're yours. Don't waste time returning them. Truly, from the bottom of my heart."
Before leaving, I asked to use the bathroom. I saw her flush with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. I'm trying to fix it. We've been using the neighbor's or the tavern two blocks down. It's been like this for a few weeks, but I'll have it sorted out soon. Do you want me to ask my neighbor?"
I told her not to worry and said my goodbyes. I felt a sudden certainty that they would be okay—that an overwhelming joy was waiting for them; they just didn't know it yet. Once Grace managed to untangle Ava from my waist, I put on the helmet and sunglasses and started walking down the street. But then it hit me. Halfway down the block, I stopped dead in my tracks as I realized something: I was the joy they were waiting for.
I turned around and knocked on the door. Ava immediately threw herself into my arms again, as if it had been a year since she last saw me, and Grace looked up in surprise.
"Did you forget something?"
"Yes," I replied. "For a second, I forgot that I am very, very rich—and I have absolutely no idea how to spend my money. Will you come shopping with me? There must be one of those places that sells ridiculously expensive things for millionaires around here, right?"
Grace smoothed her hair, her expression turning serious. "I am definitely taking you to Crown. I always take photos there, and it's a dream. They also sell designer goods and decor—the kind of stuff I only ever see from the outside, with my hands pressed against the glass, just like Ava does at the candy shop."
We dropped the little girl off at school. She turned around twice before heading inside, later admitting she did it just to make sure all of this was real. She pressed her lips together and walked through the doors.
Crown was everything Grace had promised: pristine historic mansions, gorgeous houses that looked like dollhouses, and shops catering to tourists and millionaires alike. When I spotted exactly what I was looking for, I asked her to pull the car over.
Yes, money really can buy happiness—when it's used for good.