;))))))))))))

~I won't cry for you. I won't crucify the things you do.

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I sat on the edge of the couch with my laptop in my lap and my eyes glued to the bedroom hallway.

Its definitely not alive anymore. It probably still in its little box that you made with the cross you thought it couldn’t get past but it did, I thought to myself as I nibbled on the edge of my nail. There’s no way its currently strangling your best friend and or planning on ways to murder you in your sleep….

I had never really thought about the cloak coming alive like that again. I figured after a while the ‘magic’ it possessed would just….disappear. I had seen a lot in the past years. I’d dealt with many of my fears—well, sort of dealt with them, and I saw some crazy clowns with fangs. But what I saw only hours before?

That was just scary.

Marcy had woken up about an hour after the “John” character left the house. She was practically in a coma on the couch and hadn’t woken up even after I slapped her across the face…softly of course. I sat on the couch with my head in my hands and waited for her to jolt awake as if freed from a nightmare.

“Hey,” I said.

Marcy blinked around the room. “Um—hey? What time is it? Aren’t you suppose to be at work?”

“Aren’t you suppose to be a school?” I countered. When Marcy’s face stayed plastered with confusion I tried to get to the core of the mystery of this impersonator that was in my house. “Do you remember anything that happened…maybe a guy that entered the house?” Or a cloak….

Marcy laughed. “No? I fell asleep I guess.” She stretched her arms out and added, “Why are you back so early? Oh my, is that a man’s football jersey?” “It’s David’s,” I said dryly. “Not a big—“ She squealed. “YES! I always knew I would see you on the front of a magazine, Faith! You—“

I cut her off. “No! We’re just—“

“Oh my gosh! Faith Star! You’re going to hit the exclusives once the press finds out! Not to mention our babies are going to be gorge’ to the max and maybe you could—“

“MARCY!”

She blinked. “What?”

After discussing with Marcy all about David’s girlfriend, the Wicked Ginger of the West, how I spilled water on my clothes and needed to borrow his, how I had managed to get pictures taken of me half naked by older men, and everything else that had happened within two long weeks, Marcy told me she had to get something from her room.

She left before I could tell her the fun part of my week. The stories revolved around Death.

That would be another story time.

I continued to believe the intruder was Death, except he had told me he was unable to enter the house when the cross was up on my door. There was also the feeling I got when I was around Death, one that was hard to explain. Whenever I had met with Death I could feel almost a magnetic pull towards him, where as the intruder who said his name was John had little to no pull towards me.

The question was, who was he then? Was he evil? Did he know Death? Why did the cloak form into the outline of man, ready to attack the intruder? Was the cloak trying to protect me? I shivered.

Get your mind on something else! My eyes drifted to the splatter-paint laptop on the arm of the comfy leather couch. What were you doing with your laptop anyway? I shrugged, logged into my email, and surfed the web. I was about to Google my Bosses name into the search bar when I felt a soft vibration from under my butt. I reached behind me and felt the cold surface of my phone. For some reason put it back down on the couch and checked my email. I hovered over the emails my mother had sent me with my mouse. Feeling the verge of tears I hovered over David’s email. I couldn’t open my mothers emails just yet, I couldn’t. I couldn’t face her yet after what I found out she did. Hell, I was still debating whether that ‘flashback’ was real or not.

I shook my head out of my own thoughts and clocked on David’s email.

I covered my mouth as I read over the email. “I am so screwed,” I muttered. “I completely forgot!”

I’ll forget the whole ditch thing you pulled today, if you apologize and kiss my feet numerous times virtually or in person.

P.S- If you don’t respond to me by 4:00 BY TEXT, I’m firing you ass.

-David :)

As I scanned over the email I could sense the sarcasm that held in that little smiley face he put at the end. I would be just as mad too, if my assistant ran out of the building two hours before the time she said she would stay till, especially if she was wearing my clothes….

I checked the corner of the monitor and yelped. It was 3:56 on the dot. My fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard of my phone.

Me: I’M SO SORRY DAVID!!! I had an emergency at home!

I put my hands on my head and leaned against the back of the couch. Would I ever get on David’s good side?

My phone chimed. I’m sure you are extremely sorry. At least you texted me right away. Oh wait.

So very sarcastic….

Me: Whatever, clearly you had other priorities to attend to. I’m surprised you went up for air to text me.. I had an emergency to attend to and legally I’m allowed to leave work.

David: ...ok? I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Ever since I told you about Tiara you’ve been p.m.sing all over the freaking walls. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m the one that has damn moods, not you.

Gtg bye.

I groaned under my breath. He thought he was just so funny.“Like he doesn’t remember groping her in his own chair!” I mumbled at the phone. My eyes drifted to the bedroom hallway to see if anyone was watching.



“Faith!” Marcy called down the bedroom hallway, now dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt. She smiled as she neared and hoped on the couch next to me cross legged. “Babe, are you busy tonight?”

I rolled my eyes at her cheerfulness, my mood deflating with every second I refused to text David. “What,” I drawled, preparing for the worst. Whenever Marcy started her sentences with ‘Babe!’ or ‘Bestest friend in the universe!’ I knew I would have to do something for her.

“I’m having some people over later. I’m just wondering if you want to hang out with us?”

I suppressed yet another groan. The last thing I wanted was another ‘Play date’ with one of her ‘friends’ who ends up being some sort of hot guy who warns me about Death, my life, or some psycho asking for my bondage, like the one guy I met at the pizzeria a few days ago.

“Who?”

“Just some friends from college, Tina Flosa, Max Billington, Danny Feriel, Cory Hemming, and Lisa Dawson. They’re all really cool I was thinking we could have a late night bash with them tonight and you could skip work tomorrow?”

What? Who are those people? I don’t know any of them! I shook my head. “No. David will be pissed if I skip work! And I’m not the best over-the-phone liar I usually end up spilling the beans.”

Marcy made a face and dove head first into the back of the couch. “Just say that you’re really sick! I heard there’s some sort of explosive diarrhea illness going around. It’s perfect!

“He won’t believe me….”

“Why wouldn’t he believe you? He seems like a pretty nice guy from what I read about him in Pop Magazine and Chicago Lately! He recently donated six million dollars to a local hospital for kids!”

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up! Six million dollars? As in he could buy ten massive houses with that money and feed a whole country?? And he wouldn’t give me money to buy a sandwich last Tuesday when I only brought three dollars? That little…



I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh. “Oh yeah, he’s a real charmer. Especially before he’s had his morning coffee,” I said sarcastically, shaking my head back and forth. “He’s even more affectionate when I lie to him or decide to make fun of him.”

Marcy’s response was just a small smile.

I laughed when she didn’t reply and continued. “He’s just…he’s just hard to lie around I guess. I remember one time towards the beginning of working with him he asked me if I was tracing his tattoo with my finger while I was waiting on the couch, waiting for him to give me something to do…. I tried to lie, I really did, but he is so intimating sometimes! Not to mention I hate getting the whole, “Miss Williams, leave the lying to the big boys,” or the one that really gets me angry, “You should practice that horrible excuse for a lie a little longer in the mirror. You get this weird, pained look on your face whenever you’re lying…like you have to use the bathroom. It just makes it easier to kick your lie in the ass,” line!”

I deepened my voice as I tried to make fun of him and even though Marcy had never met my boss and couldn’t tell me how good the impression was, I knew was getting pretty good at it.

“So you love him?”

“Well yeah but I—“ I stopped, and looked at her wide eyed. I waved my hands in front of me. “No, no! I didn’t mean that! He has a girlfriend he’s---“

“Really hot and—“

“—I don’t like him like we’re just—“ “—you’re jealous that he isn’t going out with you—“ “—FRIENDS! AND I’M FINE WITH HIM HAVING A GIRLFRIEND!”

Marcy stopped her mouth still in a grin. “You loveee him,” she sang quietly. “You wear his clothesss. You’re not taking that off I can tell.” She swung her pony tail around before she continued the song. “You love his boddyyy, you want to—“

I cut her off. “You’re terrible! I don’t want to talk about this! He’s just my annoying boss that yells at me constantly even if I do something nice for him, nothing else!”

There was a pause.

“I just want to know…is he as hot as in the magazines? He has a nice butt. That kind of makes up for any anger issues he has if I do say so myself.”

My face was probably a beat red. “No! He…he has a baby-face! And he has a freaking tattoo on his face! Plus he’s blond now!” I threw my arms up as if it was obvious those were perfect reasons.

Marcy made a face. “He does not have a baby-face and his tattoo is awesome, it’s so exotic! Did you know he modeled a few years ago? I have pictures on my desktop! Ugh, he’s so…” She gazed out the window and bit her lip and then quickly turned to me. “Bad—“

“At being hot,” I finished, crossing my arms over my chest. “There was no way he’s badass, he hid freaking Twinkies in his desk drawer. That’s classified as fat-ass, not bad-ass.” I waved a hand in the air. “He’s not even model worthy. I bet he doesn’t even have--”

Marcy tore the laptop from where I had grasped it firmly in my lap. She rapidly typed on the computer and then turned the screen towards me.

On the medium-sized monitor was a digital picture of David walking down a beach, shirtless with some sort of oil over his naked chest His hand was brushing through his hair casually as he looked away from the camera. “Abercrombie,” I muttered, and turned the laptop around. “He’s a freaking Abercrombie model?”

“Yes.”

I sighed. “Well, I still have the baby-face comment to back me up. He’s got dimples.”

“On a masculine face…”

I snorted. “You obviously love him more than I do.”

“Hell yeah! Because he’s H-O-T and I’m R-E-A-L-L-Y S-I-N-G-L-E! So invite him over here sometime and tell him to bring lots of gorgeous model friends that get drunk easily.” She waggled her eyebrows and licked her lips.

“Marcy!” I laughed, and slapped her arm. “We have enough people coming over today.”

Her face lit up. “So you’re alright with them coming over?”

I gave her a soft shrug, starting to feel depressed about the whole David conversation. “I guess. I’m not really in the mood to have people over. I just want to nap or something.”

After a while of staring at me Marcy put a hand on my shoulder. “Is this about David? I didn’t mean to make you upset. You know what? Nobody’s coming over tonight! Let’s just hav ea DDR session, just you and me! Just like old times when we both had self conscious problems and boy issues galore.”

We both laughed because that still happened even today.

I shook my head, my face back to its serious mask. “No. It’s not him.” It was partly true at least. There were other issues I had in my life. Issues that I really needed to get off my chest before I went psychotic. Marcy waited for me to tell her the truth, I could tell. My face could be extremely readable when I was feeling upset or mad. “Really, I’m fine.”

Marcy pulled me into a hug. “Faith, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know it was a touchy subject I was just trying to be funny!” She gave me a smile which quickly faded once I didn’t smile back.

I jumped up from the couch. “You know what?” I turned to her with a smile on my face. “I need a little party. Let’s do this thing!”

She got off the couch so quickly it was within a blink of time. “Yay! Woo! Let’s go get some chips and sodeerrr!” she shouted, already getting hyped up from this small gathering. She yanked me up to my feet and started to pull me towards her bedroom. My eyes grazed over my own bedroom door as we passed and a horrible feeling settled in my stomach.

Marcy buried herself in her closet and came out to show me a promising black rain coat, dark jeans and a flora blue blouse. “First we need to get you out of those clothes and fix your hair! I’ll make you happy again I promise!”

I smiled. “I know you will.”

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I was not happy.

“This’ll be quick! We just have to get a few items at the store then we can leave,” Marcy said, as we neared the small Quick Check at the end of the street. I’m not going to lie; my feet were dragging a bit after the last encounter I had with a shopping store.

The flashback.

As we neared the small glass store my heart jumped a little at a lingering thought. Would Death come to take his cloak back tonight? Would my stress finally be over?

“Faith, come on,” Marcy said, as she held the door open. I realized I was staring at the isles of the Quick Check through the window and apologized.

The air was almost colder in the store than the outside cold air outside. The bright florescent lights of the store made every inch of the store stand out—ever tile look grimier. Marcy grabbed a little green carrying cart and smiled at the cute cashier with a baseball cap over their eyes and a dark t-shirt that strained over their biceps. He was leaned over the counter texting vigorously, but gave us both a small smile as we passed by.

I turned around to see if he was still looking at me.

He wasn’t.

Marcy gave me a ‘oh damn!’ look as we became concealed by the aisles and said, “Dude, he was tots’ checking you out! I told you the blouse was hot! Your boobs look amazing!”

I tugged the jacket further over my chest. “Stop it! What if he hears you?”

She rolled her eyes and continued down the aisle, retrieving a bag of tortilla chips and salsa. The store was bigger than what it looked like from outside, but the small amount of fear that settled in my stomach became worse as I followed Marcy down the aisle, to the point that I had a solid violent shiver and stopped in my tracks.

Someone was watching me.

I turned around towards the cashier, who was gone.

The lights of the store flickered a bit and the speakers settled in each corner of the room became static.

Then silence.

“Marcy….I’ll be right back I have to um—pee,” I told her, starting to move away towards the cashier counter.

“Ok. Remember to squat.” She continued to look at all of the different cans of salsa, determining which one to get.

I crept down the aisle, my eyes grazing over the counter as I did so. Since it was obviously empty I started to walk past the other isles, looking to see if the cashier was anywhere to be found. I found myself walking down the canned isle, and pretended to be interested in a container of beats.

The speakers became static.

A shadow suddenly moved in the corner of my eye, in the shape of a man, and even though my heart was pounding and my hands were sweating to the point that the can had a chance of slipping away from my grasp, I continued to stay calm.

Already having a plan in mind, my eyes slowly drifted to the circled mirror in corner of the store.

“Jesus,” I mumbled, and put a hand over my heart. On the mirror hung a note that read in red, almost bloody letters,

Behind you.

“No, its Death, D-E-A-T-H. Come on Cupcake, we’ve been over this numerous times before, get your game face on,” a deep voice whispered from behind me. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body and the slight brush of the fabric of his sweatshirt.

I gripped the can in my hand, turned and brought my hand up quickly to hit him in the face.

He was gone.

I spun around, my eyes wide and dropped the can.

A deep snicker echoed the store. I tilted my head up to see him sitting on one of the tall shelves, his legs dangling over the side. His ball-cap was secured over his head and his face of course shadowed completely. “Ha-ha your face,” he said, talking as if he already had a mouthful of cheetos. “You look like one of those toys you squeeze and the eyes bug out.” He tapped the shelf with the heel of his boot. “I wonder if I squeeze your neck if that’ll happen?”

“At least I have a face,” I whispered harshly. “And get out of here! I don't want to talk to you.”

"Someone's mean today." He shrugged and threw the bag of cheetos behind him as if he could care less about them. “Hey, it’s not my fault I was already here.” He made a motion as if he was licking the cheese of his fingers. “The cashier here died like twenty minutes ago. Heat-attack. Sucks really, but he did like a little dance before he collapsed--” Death stopped and began to laugh to himself.

I put a hand over my mouth. “They…died?”

He suddenly stopped laughing and cleared his throat. “Yeah…I guess you had to be there. He’s in the back room he was restocking the water bottles and---” He made a noise in his throat and slid his finger over his throat. “He be dead!”

I put a hand to my head, already feeling a headache. Someone had died in the little store I was in and Death was laughing?

“Can Marcy hear us?” I blurted.

“Nope. She can’t see me now. I made myself invisible because I’m so talented.”

“But weren’t you the cashier?”

“Yep.”

“Death—“

He abruptly jumped off of the shelf, landing gracefully right in front of me. I couldn’t help but step back. “Yes?”

I forgot completely what I was going to say.

“You missed me?” he guessed, and put his arms out as if to hug me. “Come here, gimmie some sugar,” he drawled, lowing himself a little to get to my level. I stood still, not knowing what to do. You try having a six foot-million giant coming at you with giant tree trunks as arms. There’s not much to do but just wait to be crushed.

At the last minute he grabbed my face between his hands and shook. “Oh Faithy-poo, there is so much to say to you.” He seemed to squeeze my head harder and suddenly got really close to my face. He held my by neck gently between his one hand as he reached behind me to grab a can of corn. “I’ll start with this. I’m knocking on your door tonight and if you don’t answer this will happen to your little heart and any other part of you I can get my hands on.”

He brought the can to what I thought was his mouth, and like a can opener tore the whole top half of the can in half. A sickening sound came along with the tear along with a ferocious growl from the man before me. The contents of the can splattered onto the floor.

I tried to scream. My voice was mute.

Ugh!!!!

He kept his hold on my neck, restraining me as he spat the end of the can into his hand, allowing my eyes to take in the jagged marks on the can that looked like they were massacred by a wood cruncher.

“Are those…teeth marks?” I sputtered between shaky lips

He gave my cheek a pat. “No, Pooh-bear, they’re pink crayons,” he spat sarcastically. Death pushed me away from him with a laugh. “Cloak. Tonight.” He pointed to the can. “Or else. Got it?” I nodded.

"Good girl." He took another step back. “And tell Marcy to get the spicy salsa. The original tastes like pasta sauce and the medium just taste like some homeless guys piss.” He kicked the deformed can of corn on the floor. “Plus, the spicy makes my tongue tingle,” he added with waggling fingers, before turning into a cloud of black.

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VOTE IF YOU WANT D.I.M.BFF TO MAKE WATTY AWARDS' SECOND PHASE BABIES!!!



* Oh and you should know Death is dancing in the next chapter xDDD