MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA....MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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I shifted on the bed spread for the third time and rubbed at my eyes for fiftieth time.

The story he had just explained to me got sadder and sadder towards the end, to the point that I couldn't stop crying. Instead of getting a happily-ever-after ending that so many expected their life to turn out to be, Death got a happily-never-after story, one that is so dreadful, so horrible that I could almost feel the emotion spilling from his mouth.. There was no rescuing involved in the story.. No passionate kiss. No birds and animals singing to an odd tune that nobody but Disney would every think about, carrying ribbons to dress a really lazy-ass Princess who’s problems are so miniscule compared to all the poverty, distress, murdering, starvation, and abuse that continues to happen every single day on Earth.

Death's story was based on the real world.

His story was all too true, I knew it was.

And it was heartbreaking.

I was hoping he would have some sort of redemption, some way to lift his curse. Some of the details he mentioned sent shivers down my back. The way he described himself killing his father, what he thought about himself physically and mentally as a person, how he was knew he different from the other Angels to the point that he might have predicted he would fall from Heaven.

Death had ended his story by my bedroom window, his head against the glass as he traced pictures on the fogged surface. Rain poured from outside, banging like daggers against the walls of the freezing-cold apartment that seemed to chill more as the silence of the room wrapped around me and threatened to stay.

The truth was, I had no idea what to say. In all nineteen years of my life I was always outgoing, loud, invasive, and talkative. I always had something to say. I was the one my friends

With a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart, I spoke first.

“Are you ok?” I asked in a soft voice. I could tell how upset he had gotten after telling the story. His shoulders were hunched slightly, his head was down against the window and the air was frigid.

He didn’t respond right away to my question and just turned, shifted his body to the side, leaned his head against the glass again. A small tremble started in my arms when I was unsure if he was staring at me or not. I realized I was afraid of him more than I ever was, just because I knew exactlywhat he was.

A fallen angel.

“Peachy,” he muttered and made an ‘OK’ symbol with his dark hands. “Why are you crying so much? Do you have something in your eye?”

I wiped the tears from my eyes. “It’s a sad story. And I have tear duct issues,” I defended weakly and wiped at my eyes again. What I said was more lame than the original, ‘I’m not crying, I just have severe allergies,’ line.

Death snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, you just feel bad for me,” he said with almost a bitter tone. “You don’t really care.”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped and stood up. “I do feel bad for you. I…”

Care about you. Just say it!

“Am a dumbass?” he interrupted with a soft laugh.

I shook my head. Was he already over the emotional story he had just told me? “That’s not what I—“

“You want my body and my affection?” Death intercepted with a deep, almost menacing laugh. “It’s completely normal, Pooh-bear. Everyone wants a smoldering hot man who’s not really a man, wears a cloak, and—“

“I want to know more about you and you keep changing the subject. I know it must be hard for you…I don’t know personally what you went through, but I know you’re not over it. I’m starting to think you never accepted your curse.” I stopped and scooted my legs further onto the bed. “Do you…do you cover your face because you think I’ll be repulsed? Scared?” I blurted out. My fingertips slowly rose to my own mouth and I blushed scared. I hadn’t meant to say that.

The room went silent.

Death dragged his feet to my dresser once again and leaned on the side of it, facing my closet and not me on the bed. “What I look like is really none your concern, but that is your fourth question, if you choose. Are you sure you want to waste it on something as minuscule in importance as that one?”

I took a slow breath, already having the answer. He was hiding from me. An image of the person I had saw standing in front of the coffee shop with frightening lines across their face flashed before my eyes. I blinked again and remembered the lines reminded me of something. I had seen them before.

My head jerked up to mirror.

You will see the truth in truths revealing surface, the memory of the man who had bumped into me outside of Devin & Son told me in a confusing mumble of words, and then the clear translation afterwards that seeped into my skull.

I had to get him to lean back in front of the mirror, see if it would do anything. If I would see anything. What the mysterious person had said to me seemed to just fit perfectly with Death. But what if I didn’t like what I saw? What if he was…scary looking?

I heard a spray, and snapped out of my thoughts to see a certain hooded man paying with my perfume collection in my closet. He took out a bottle of Abercrombie No. 1 perfume container and held it to his nose.

“Your heartbeat is on freaking steroids. Before you have a heart attack and have me throwing giant party, there’s nothing to feel bad about, Cupcake. I’ve accepted my life,” he said with a shrug. “I’m an ass. I make the decision where souls go and quicken the process of death for some. I’m super cute in my cloak and my butt looks amazing in black. It comes with the package.” He motioned to his outfit and took out another perfume bottle.

“Stop touching my perfume, stop changing the subject every five seconds, and stop being soplayful,” I said a little nastier than intended. “You just finished telling me the saddest, most heart-felt story I’ve ever heard in my whole life and you’re spraying perfume all over the place like nothing happened? Like you didn’t freak me out only five minutes ago when you described killing your Father? Do you even have emotions?” I stopped my words with a huff and pushed my stray hair back into my pony tail angrily.

I felt the air chill as Death slowly turned his head around, his dark face narrowed in on me. I felt myself shrink under his gaze. He took a step away from the closet and stalked towards me as he spoke.

“I’m changing the topic because yes, I have emotions and right now I want to tear into something which could be you. I’m hungry as hell and I have a headache because even though I’m still considered an Angel, apparently when big “Holy Daddy God” don’t like you anymore, you’re astonishing and helpful ability to free souls, give back life, kill with a flip of a wrist and change appearances and voice just to lift a whole damn weight off other lazy-ass Angels shoulders doesnot come with a free headache, bladder, hunger, or my least favorite, Faith fucking Williams relief! And you're not helping at all with the last one!”

My heart was racing, my blood was pumping, I was warm all over, I felt nauseous, and terrified that he had screamed so loudly. His voice had changed when he screamed, morphed into a strange, velvety texture that sent my hairs on edge. It wasn’t human.

We were only inches away now. He had crossed the room to my bed and leaned over my shaking body. I could feel the rage, the heat radiating from his body, his warm breath coming out in adrenaline-filled pants. The bed sunk slightly when he leaned down more, his cloaked arms brushing against my flushed skin.

“Your biggest fear….” He shook his head as if not understand something,”…is me?” I felt him dip down closer, his mouth move to my ear and my head tilt away. “You’re afraid of me more when I’m like this,” he concluded, his voice husky. “Why is that?”



My lips shook with a tremble and I nodded at the shadowed face above me. Did he really not know why I was scared?

“You tell me. You’re the professional,” I managed. “I just have the happy personality and the perfume.”

He snickered from above me and pulled me up the bed in one motion, his mouth still by my ear. I froze, but ironically was burning to a crisp from his closeness. “The only personality you have can be split up into two categories. Bitch one and bitch two. Bitch one is when you’re just cranky and walk around with a pout, the personality that’s easiest to get through…then there’s bitch two, when you snap at people like a Hyena on crack and stomp around with a scowl. I personally like bitch zero, when you aren’t breathing. But then again, that’s just me.”

I gapped at that detailed explanation of my personalities, starting to feel more comfortable that his hands were incredibly close to the hem of my shirt, and his mouth was hovering over my earlobe, and traveling up my jaw. “None of that was necessary and I—“

“No talking,” he purred out and with a low growl, he put his hands in my hair and brought my head up to his mouth. His lips pressed softly against mine for only a millisecond and I was instantly stunned by a small electrical current, the warmth of his lips. At a small ping of pain in my stomach I wanted to pull back, but he slipped a hand underneath my back and pulled me closer to him. Our bodies molded together, his tongue tried to pry my mouth open teasingly. I refused, and so he made a noise of disapproval and pressed his lips harder against mine.

I felt something cold on his upper lip, something I hadn’t felt before. I opened my mouth for only a second for him to get distracted and latched onto the cold object I felt with my teeth and pulled gently

He groaned and pulled away from me. His hand disappeared in his hood and he laughed. “Let’snot do that to my lip ring.”

I felt the blood rush to my face in embarrassment. He had a lip ring.

“You have a lip ring?” I blurted out.

“And possibly something else,” he said coolly, his hand wondering at the hem of my shirt again. “Too bad you can’t see my face, you’re out of questions, and I have a 2:30 one-on-one with a psychotic, turrets serial killer with a hidden agenda.” He pushed off of the bed with a chuckle and stood at head of my bed. “Bummer. Talk to you later though, best friend.”

I would have seen him run towards the wall and disappeared into a cloud of black right when he hit the walls. I would have seen him stole my purple-laced bra, and the rock I kept in the back of my underwear drawer, the one that was thrown through the window of my family’s house the first week I had met Death himself. The rock that he couldn’t touch with his bare hands and that had dark lines over the surface.

I probably would have seen the hooded man’s face.

If I hadn’t been staring at my own reflection, which I swear for only a sliver of a second didn’t stare back at me with my exact blue eyes, my tied black black hair as I watched the mirror silently, but instead was looking in Death’s direction. My reflection slowly returned it's gaze to me.

And I could have sworn that it winked.



To be continued...

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OH SNAP.

::D Alien eyes!