©Copyright 2011

UPDATE: 9/5/23:

DEATH IS MY BFF is now published!!!! Get your physical copy online in places like Amazon and Barnes & Noble and everywhere books are sold and don't miss out on this all new hot enemies to lovers series with the same characters you love!

Thank you & please vote if you enjoy the original series! I also read all of the comments! :)

Kat xx

P.S- I wrote this book on Wattpad when I was 14 without any prior experience in writing. Please excuse the grammatical errors and sentence structure for the first couple of books in the series! I promise it gets better grammatical- wise. xD

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Ladies and gentleman, I am here to tell you there is in fact something more terrifying than the Kardashians when they're angry.

The Balance.

The Balance's laws were--and still are, concise and to the point. Don't mess with the Balance, or you will parish in the flames of hell until your nostrils fill with the sickening scent of your flesh peeling back from its bone.

Sounds like fun!

Rumor has it, someone wrote a manual for the Balance so that morons--excuse me, less intelligent others, in the future, didn't accidently wipe out the human race, and of course, the dang thing is lost now. It was the latest installment of Heaven's Publication Co., The Balance for Dummies. If you did get a chance to read it, you probably got the picture pretty quickly. Literally, because there's a massive picture of Lucifer with red skin and bulky, steroid-enhancing muscles, and a mouthful of fangs on the first and only page. Let's not forget the bolded text underneath the photo that reads: This is who you'll meet if you mess with the Balance.

The Balance was created to monitored the amount of good and evil in the world, or the amount of negative and positive energy. Supposedly, the Elders, or the original angel's up in Heaven, created the Balance to level both chaos and peace, which is how our planet is supposed to be right now. When good or evil are more superior than the other, the Balance shifts, and the world begins to become uninhabitable. It's a gradual process, but the planet as we know it begins to destroy itself from the inside out.

The scary part?

It's been leaning towards evil for some time now.

Truth be told, good doesn't always over-power evil like children are told in bedtime stories. In fact, it's the complete opposite. Negative energy, from the beginning of time (I'm talking a T-Rex's time), negative energy was a dominant form of matter. Naturally, living things wanted to fight with each other off and become dominate. There's really not much of a "disturbance in the force" in order to become a whack-in-the-head killer. Just flick on your television to the nearest Law and Order episode if you want proof; just a little push off the mental edge, and a human may find itself killing another human.

Originally, a world of complete negative energy was favored by humans because with it came power and dominance. To make this short: after the whole Big Bang dilemma and wiping the slate clean incident, God decided to put all of his voice into the Elders and stay out the Balance's problems. He thought of it as a test, really, to see how his people could handle the drastic changes in.

The Elder's had no flipping clue how to get rid of all of the negative energy in the world. I mean, besides the fact that an excessive amount of power could ultimately destroy a universe as we know it, what was so bad about it anyways? They had to act quick before they had to make another "clean slate" again.

What could possibly solve the surplus of positive or negative energy? I'm getting there, I'm getting there. Keep your voice down, would ya?

Ridding of the excessive amount of negative energy by storing them into a never-ending vortex at the center of the earth, with an particular angel's help of course--who was capable of sending both negative and positive energy (souls) to their correct domains so that all living creatures on earth would live a pleasant and peaceful life would be the perfect solution. Perfect, perfect, perfecty-perf. La-di-da.

Ha.

With the Balance, the source of this negative and positive energy, comes the "triple D's". (Not a bra reference.) The "triple D's" are Destruction, Deceiving, and lastly, Death. Too much Death was, in itself, a problem. I mean that literally. As in the person, Death. It's a long story. I'll get to him eventually.

Anyways, what the hell is the problem with this divine angel whom possesses such an important power. And why is his name on the cover of this book?

Death. Death, who's suppose to be the angel that distributes the "good" and "bad" into the right "bins," rarely abided to the rules of the Balance. Sure, he kept it stable. Barely. One and a while--many times, tortured his victims with their own fears just for kicks and giggles. (I've seen it myself. He really does kick them and giggle.)

The worst part of this whole "Kicks and Giggles" bit, is that the guy rarely got a slap with a ruler from the big honchos up in the puffy clouds when he did something wrong. Secretly, they were all afraid of what he'd do to the world if they ticked him off. That's just how much power he was given by God.

Let me continue with a description of this "Death" character. He wears a black cloak. It has a name, Ahrimad. Ahrimad this really awesome, but ridiculously evil spirit that Death trapped into his cloak a while back in order to compensate for Ahrimad's debt to him. That evil spirit isn't the only thing indebted to Death. I'll touch upon this "debt" problem in a moment.

Death also carried around a scythe. That's right, one of those old-fashioned, crop collecting blades. This scythe was basically his baby, similar to a man's love for his car, to which he'd given the name, Scytherella. During untimely hours of the night, Death would whirl his massive scythe all over the place and sometimes cut random--that's right: random victims souls out of their chest. Even a head or two by accident. Ever hear of the Headless Horseman? Yeah. It all depended on what mood he was in.

Ludicrous!

Perhaps you will understand my hatred towards the Angel of Death once you get to understand that the "angel" part of that title is complete BS. Sure, he doesn't kill as many people as he used to, but Death had always gotten what he wanted, no matter what he had to kill in his way.

Or save.

I remember the first day I met the Angel of Death. It just happened to be the day that I was dying. (Shocker.) He's not the type of person you forget easily, although there's really not much to describe since you can only see his face when you're on the brink of Death. It was a hot summer day in Chicago, and my mother was going to food shopping after finding an empty box of waffle mix.

"I'm going to the store to get waffle mix! Do you guys want anything?" Mom was making the usual ruckus with pots and pans as she scrambled to find her keys. Sometimes they were on the counter. Sometimes they were in the fridge. Sometimes they were in her back pocket. Mom wasn't good at organizing, but she was definitely a multi-tasker. Many times I'd caught her making mac and cheese, reading a book, and doing paper work from her office. I used to draw pictures of her as an octopus because I thought she need eight arms in order to clean up the house. Little did I know, all she really needed was 1-800-M-A-I-D in order to do multiple things at once.

My father was sitting on the couch reading recently dated newspaper, while I doodled a portrait of my teddy bear, Mr. Wiggles, on the coffee table by his feet. In the morning, my father loved to read the sports section before work. In the morning, I loved to draw squiggly drawers on important bills and documents.

Waffles. The mere sound of my favorite food bouncing around happily in my head made my crayon pause. Waffles were my life. I dropped my crayon, grasped my teddy bear, Mr. Wiggles, by the upper arm, and dashed into the kitchen at full speed.

Let me tell you something about that bear full of fluff. Mr. Wiggles was a loyal friend of mine. We ate together, slept together, and bathed together. (That last one hadn't really worked out as I hoped it would.) He was always at my hip, under my armpit, or on a pink leash dragging on the floor behind. Sure, he had picked up a few holes and scratches on his eyeball since the day I had received him as a baby, but I loved him just as much as the first day I dribbled on his ear. No matter what, that furry bear--whether it was unwillingly or willing on his behalf, had always been glued to my side.

"Can Mr. Wiggles and I go with you, Mommy?"

"Yes. But you have to give me a huge kiss first," she said, smiling. "No slobber. Mr. Wiggles has to give me one too."

"Mwa!" I kissed her cheek. Mr. Wiggles was shy around other girls besides myself, so he only give her neck a hug with his fluffy arms.

Mom and I went through the garage to the family car. She buckled me up, got in the driver seat, and turned on the car. As we drove through our neighborhood I counted the trees that passed by on the road, dramatically hoping up and down as we went over bumps in the road.

About halfway to the market, I started to feel a twinge of pain in my body. Making a small grunt of pain, I squeezed Mr. Wiggles to my tummy.

' "What's wrong, honey?" Mom asked, blue eyes glancing anxiously in the rear view mirror. "Are you getting car sick?

"My stomach is hurting me."

"What did you eat for breakfast?"

"Daddy made me toast. It tasted like dirt."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Your father: the next Emeril Legasse," she said sardonically. "His toast is probably the reason you have a tummy ache. We'll the doctors on the way home if you still aren't feeling good. Okay, baby?"

"It really hurts, Mommy."

That sentence alone would have normally made my mother slam on the breaks, making a U-turn, and bring me back home. Mom was always overprotective. But there was something that prevented her from turning around that particular day. An unknown force that kept her going to that market, call it fate. Fate had to be what made her eyebrows fall inwards and her foot continue to press further onto the gas. Mom's eyes had glazed over slightly as she said, "We're almost at the market...."

I hugged Mr. Wiggles to my chest, extracting all the comfort I needed from his soft body. Food shopping was my favorite activity to do with my mother and the stomach ache was ruining it. Would she take me to the doctors after we got food? Would the doctor give me a needle? I hated needles!

Still in a daze, Mom pulled into the parking lot. It was early, so it was empty. She got out of the car, briskly walked to get a shopping cart, and then came around the car to unbuckle me. As soon as I was in the food cart, I was so excited to get in the food card that I began jumping up and down in my seat. It was as if I had never had a stomach ache to begin with. Mom was acting herself again as well. For the moment at least the strange feeling in my stomach had subsided.

I patted my small hands on the shopping cart handle."Mommy, push me! But don't let go!"

She laughed. "Hold on!" Mom got in a runners stretch, with her hands on the handle and her right foot back behind her other. One....two... three!!" Mom ran with me down the empty parking lot all to the front entrance of the building. I had cheered and clapped the entire time.

The automatic doors clicked open. To the left were check out centers, to the right were vegetables and flowers. The ceiling glowed with luminescent lights. We made a right, and went straight to the flowers. She plucked a single daisy, gave it to me, then held a finger to her lips as we both giggled secretively.

After weaving between isles to find our goods, I started to feel sick again. This time, I was border-line ready to throw up burnt dirt toast. As I was about to tell me mom how I was feeling, the impatient cashier girl cleared her throat from behind us. "It's your turn, mam'." Her black eyes fell onto me. "Uh, your kid looks a little green..."

"She has a stomach ache."

"Oh. I used to get stomach aches all the time when I was little."The cashier was around sixteen, with heavy black makeup on her eyelids and piercings everywhere there was skin. She crossed her arms over her chest as my mother unloaded the cart , blowing a large bubble with her gum, then cracking it obnoxiously in her mouth. It sounded like she was dancing on bubble rapper.

My mother brushed her blonde hair behind her ear. "My husband cooked again," she explained, rubbing my stomach soothingly and laughing to herself. Although it was evident she didn't like the rudeness of the cashier, she sure didn't show it on her face. Mom grew up a strict Catholic and firmly believed in loving thy neighbor.

Mom started to unpack the cart, giving my arm a playful squeeze when I handed her all four boxes of waffle mix in a row.

Even with an upset stomach, I knew exactly what I was eating the entire week.

Mom swiped her card across the credit card machine. I had to force myself to look away from the girl with the exaggerated makeup, who was eying me like I was a moldy piece of bread. She reminded me of a gothic clown. I hated clowns. I swung my legs in the cart, twisting the daisy in my small hands. Studying the flower, I realized that flowers brought a lot of people happiness if they were at the front of the market. When I glanced back up at the cashier girl, her eyebrows were bunched together and her expression looked cheerless. Hesitantly, I reached out to hand her the flower.

She stared at the flower. Looked at me. Then carefully took it by the stem and placed it on her register. There was a twitch of a smile on her face that quickly vanished. "Thanks, kid," she said dryly.

Suddenly, the automatic doors of the market opened, and male voices began to shout out orders throughout the store. Men had entered the building with ski masks and guns. The leader of the pack of men stepped out in front, loading his shotgun in one fluid motion. My mom immediately took me out of the food card I was sitting in, dropped to a place on the floor behind another cashier station, and held me hard to her chest. She put a finger to her lips as I whined.

"OPEN THE REGISTERS! NOW!"

"Halloween called, they want their costume back, gothic freak," an unfamiliar voice mocked, followed by many hearty male laughs.

The cashier let out a squeal. "Don't touch me! Let go!"

"Fu--she got me right in the nose! You're dead, bitch!"

We heard the slap of the gothic cashier's feet on the tiled floor. Running. A piercing boom of a gun going off, then a sickening crack as a heavy object smacked against the floor. My mother jerked at the sound. Both of our ears had to be ringing like crazy. Mom started to mouth a prayer. We heard a moan from the girl. Another shot went off. No moans followed.

Cash registers started to get noisily broken into. Some change fell to the ground, flying across the room as the men stuffed the money messily into their bags.

A thin stream of dark red blood became visible down our checkout aisle, curving towards my mother and I. A scream bounced off the walls. I realized it was my own when my mother put her hand over my mouth. I was confused, putting Mr. Wiggles in my choke hold as my heart pounded in my ears.

A pair of white shoes came into my vision. "Aren't you pretty," the same unfamiliar voice said.

Within seconds, the man had scooped me up with one arm and secured me to his side. Mom began to panic, throwing her entire purse at him. "Take whatever you want. Take my whole purse. There's two-hundred dollars in there. I have more."

"Is that a D & W bag you have on, and you only have two-hundred bucks on you?" The masked man laughed harshly. "Go stand over there with your hands up where I can see them, lying bitch."

"Mommy!" I screamed, wriggling against the man's strong grip.

My mother looked down at me, her mouth trembling. "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness..." She murmured the passage from the Bible under her breath, her free hand finding her cross. "You can still redeem your actions. God will forgive you."

"What the hell are you force feeding me?" the masked man questioned. "If I wanted to hear religion muck, I'd flip on that boring channel with the monotone nuns."

My mother closed her eyes."'There is no peace,' says the Lord, 'for the wicked...' There is no peace,' says the Lord...."

"Stop with your Bible talk, or I'll shoot her brains out!" the masked man screamed, closing the distance between us. There was a crazed look in the gunman's eyes as he jammed the gun against my forehead. I felt the coolness of the barrel through my bangs, and started to cry.

Mom began to sob along with me. "Please! She's only six! I'll give you anything you want!"

My stomach cramped. I found myself screaming again.

The man's grip on my arm began to cut of circulation once my mother returned to her purse. He knew she was wasting time. The gunman lifted me off the ground with one hand and held onto me, pointing the gun at my mother. "You're a moron for fooling with me. I can get millions for this little twerp on Ebay," he hissed. The smell of alcohol drifted out of his lips, circled my small frame and squeezed with a toxic strength.

"Hey man, we have no time for this!" the raspy voice of one of the other masked men screamed from the front entrance. He was watching the parking lot, a shot gun readied in his arms. "Hurry up and get the money, we got lucky today! There's nobody--" His gaze fell on my mother and I. "Dude! What are you doing? Don't you watch the freaking news? Kidnap the kid, and we'll be running for the rest of our damn lives!"

Amateurs, a deep voice penetrated my mind, following a foreboding sting of pain in my stomach.

I screamed at the unbearably pain my stomach that came with that strange voice, wriggling out of my captors arms until I dangled half on the floor. "Why is she screaming like that?" the masked man asked. "Does she have a disability or something?"

I screamed my heart out, clutching Mr. Wiggles to my chest as tears spurted endlessly from my eyes. The man gave me a hard shove to the ground, covering his ears.

Now the gunman was gripping the sides of his skull, screaming. "My...head! I feel like...it's going to explode! My eyes! I can't see!"

My mother scooped me into her arms as I fell to the ground, shielding me with her body as the gunman went utterly ballistic.

"You!" the gunman said, raising his gun towards me. He tore my body away from my mother and forced me to stand. As if hearing something, he tore his head to the side, eyes wild. He shoved me away. "Make the voices stop! Make them stop, you little bitch!"

"She's just a baby!" Mom cried. "Don't hurt my baby!"

Gripping his skull, the man shook his head back and forth. "The pain! Make it stop!"

The man came forward and knocked my mother to the ground with a single punch to her face. He then turned down to me, visibly wincing in pain, as I crawled away from him in fear.

"Faith! Run!"

I got up onto my feet. The crack of the bullet following my retreat was so loud, that my hearing momentarily departed, and I was unable to hear my mother's screams. The impact of it through my stomach was so excruciatingly painful, that I hadn't felt it even enter, nor had I felt my head strike the surface of the hard ground. Mr. Wiggles had left my small hand and clashed with the tiled floor at my side. Beside me on the ground was the gothic cashier with a gaping hole at the center of her skull. I tried to scream, but instead, rolled over onto my back, lips trembling, eyes wide open, staring with glazed eyes at the ceiling, slowly drowning in a pool of crimson. Above me, the bright white fluorescent lights of the market illuminated.

"FAITH! MY BABY, MY BABY!" I heard my mother vaguely cry out to me after the pounding in my ears. She fought against the gunman with all of her might, until she knocked his gun straight out of his hand. She hit him with something heavy, he fell in a lump to the ground. The other masked men aimed their guns at her. Oddly enough, when they saw me on the ground, they lowered them. "Love bears all things," my mother sobbed over me, holding my Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away..."

The gunman started to get up off of the ground and looked down at his hands, which were violently trembling, and grazed my stiffening body with slightly wet eyes.

As I fell into a trance, staring at the sparkling ceiling, a smooth, baritone voice enveloped my ears, and in my peripheral vision I saw the outline of a massive shadow. "Well, wasn't that boring," the shadow said. "You made the mother watch? That's very cliché, don't you think? So unoriginal. There's a lot of books on this, and movies out there that you could have watched before robbing this place, you know. I give that a 2 out of 10, tops."

The gunman turned around towards the stranger. "Jesus...Christ," he muttered, falling to his knees with his mouth wide open. A hooded man appeared out of thin air, wearing an draping obsidian cloak that entirely concealed his identity. Appearing at least twice the size of the average man, he loomed over the gunman with intimidation, clenching a strange shaped weapon in his left gloved hand.

A scythe.

The masked men in the store all froze, gawking at the hooded man with the same shocked expression, before trampling over each other out of the store.

"Please, call me Death." With a playful, "Boop!" Death then tapped the man swiftly on the shoulder. Instantaneously, the gunman fell to the ground. Lifeless.Death nudged the dead body of the gunman with the tip of his black boot. "Sigh," he said, feigning sadness, "it's as if everything I touch dies, you know?" Brightening, he offered my mother his hand. "I'm Death, it's a pleasure to meet you."

My mother let out a gasp.

Death put both his hands promptly behind his back. "Small joke." He then tilted his head down towards me. "Well, well, well, who do we have here? Hmm, it's 10:32 AM. This must be... Faith Williams? Oh, I do love me some Catholic names! Faith. Delicious--I mean, I'm right on schedule." The large cloaked man stepped over the gunman's unmoving body. "She is just...beautiful, isn't she?" As he bent down and hovered his fingers over my cheek, his voice began to morph into something more serious. "Especially her soul. It's so pure, and unfortunately, so young. The little ones are always the hardest to collect. However, I've never a soul quite like hers in all of my years." He chuckled softly. "Wow, listen to me. And I thought the robbers were being cliché. Faith's soul is definitely unique. Most souls are different shades of blue, but hers...hers is white. Fascinating..."

As the hooded man went on, my mother continued to sob in hysterics, staring widely at the man. "Are you--are...are--" She stopped, returning her blue gaze to my pale face. "Please. Don't take her from me," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I know who you are. If her soul...if it's unique, please--"

"Really? You know who I am?" Death drawled out sarcastically. "What gave it away? Was it the cloak or the scythe? I'm taking a survey." He slowly walked around my body, hands clasped behind his back, observing me at different angles. He kicked the gothic cashier's dead body to the "Scoot over, Lily Munster, I've got a job to do." There was a cheerfulness in his voice as he squatted down where the gothic girl's blood remained smudged on the floor. "So, anyways... Mom, are you cremating? I personally wouldn't suggest it. I'm sure the right mortician will make that huge, gapping, kind of revolting gash in your child's stomach, look like a bee sting!"

My mother began to cry hysterically. "Relax, woman. It was only another small joke. Here, let me ease your mind. I promise you, that your Faith will not die today, but only if you quit bawling. How's that?"

My mother calmed down slightly, her attention fixed on the large hooded man as if he was the source of everything in the room.

"Good. Yes, well, I believe I have a proposition that you will be very interested in," Death continued after a long pause. "You see, I really haven't seen a soul as pure as hers in a while. Call me a collector of rare gems, but this soul I would particularly like to spare." His low laughter gave me instant goose bumps, and his hand brushed against my own. "Just how badly do you want to see your daughter graduate middle school? Go to prom? Get married? Live her life?"

My mother began to sob once again. "That's all I want. Please, please help her! Help my baby!"

"I will come for her," Death stated. "I will come for her when the time is right. One cannot escape me without something in return. Are you willing to accept that I will take her away from you?"

Blood seeped from my lips. My mom frantically looked at the man, and then back at me. "How long would I have until you come for her?"

"You're in luck. I'm prepared to make you an excellent deal," Death's whispered with that smooth, deep voice of his. "Well, excellent for myself at least. I'll give you until her eighteenth birthday, then her soul is mine. There it is again, cliché time. I haven't made a deal such as this for centuries, but her soul is special. I want to let it mature. See what becomes of this...rarity. Eighteen seems like a nice number, odd numbers personally make me cringe..."

As Death stared at her, capturing her gaze entirely, my mother's hesitation morphed into acceptance.. "Please, just save my daughter! Just save her!"

"As you wish." Death looked down at me and grinned, his huge, straight teeth flashing through the darkness that surrounded his face. His next words were foreign and velvety, as gentle as a caress on the cheek.

Suddenly, light lit up under his hood revealing the most interesting color of eyes. Chiseled, male features hovered over my face. He had a piercing along his eyebrow and his lip, silver loops. I felt a chill throughout my entire body as Death slipped off one of his leather gloves, revealing a hand with branchy, black tattoos, and hovered that hand over my stomach.

I opened my eyes a little wider, feeling the pressure in my stomach subside, and my body becoming stronger. The blood flooding my mouth was absorbed back down my throat all at once, momentarily leaving me breathless. When I could breath, there was absolutely no pain anywhere in my body.

"Mommy?" I whispered, anxiety building in my chest as I saw her crying. "Mommy, why are you crying?"

"Faith?" Her features lit up in happiness. "Fai--"

Death held up a gloved hand. "Do not touch the girl yet, she is in a fragile state. Faith doesn't remember what happened to her, she will remember in due time," Death explained, leaning his shadowed face forward as if to observe my eyes. I stilled under his gaze, knowing it was best not to move. "It is time to seal the deal. Say goodbye to your old life, pumpkin."

A black cloud surrounded myself and the hooded man, as if creating a shield around us, before spiraling like a tornado and absorbing like a sponge straight into the center of my chest. I jerked upwards, making my mother instinctively move towards me. Death held her back again as I momentarily struggled to breath. My sunshine blond hair slowly began to drift into the midnight, becoming black from the roots down, and then I fell back to the floor, stunned.

"You too, mom. There's no backing out of this now. You are bound to our deal." The hooded man touched my mother's hand, and her hair began to change as well. Her short golden hair melted into a halo of black.

The hooded man then leaned over my face again, mumbling more foreign words under his breath. I didn't fully understand at the time that Death was saving my life, and out of fear, went to swat him away

Death stood up to his overpowering height. With a small movement of his hand, his scythe appeared out of thin air. "Her eighteenth birthday," Death reminded my mother. "I will make sure you remember, but I'm sure you will regardless. I will come visit her as I please, you will not interfere, or I will destroy her without hesitation, and then destroy you." Death began to walk away from us, giving me one last long look as I began to sit up. I was in awe, staring at such a large, evil being that radiated so much power that it was hard to look away from him.

I could no longer see Death's face, but I could tell that he was smirking. And not in a friendly way. "I will collect, Faith Williams." Sarcastically, he then added, before dissapearing into a burst of black smoke, "I'm sure we will become the best of friends."

****

Keep in mind I wrote this when I was like 14. (This is me apologizing for any cringe writing moments in advance. You get it.) LMFAO!

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