For the damned | ✓

9

"Delilah," he said," I have no idea what your last name is, so I can't make it a fully formal thing, but do you want to go on a date with me?"

"No," she smiled.

He stiffened, pulling her back again when she started to move again.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because you're heartbroken about someone else," she replied simply, pointing at the pathways," by the way, what do you think? Left or right?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said, though his expression told her he knew exactly what she meant," if I was so heartbroken, I wouldn't be out dating with other girls already, would I?"

"Isn't that exactly what you would do?" she said, turning around to him. Her voice was warm instead of accusing, clear as she continued. "That isn't something you should feel guilty for. Everyone pieces themselves back together in a different way."

He placed his hands in front of his face then, turning away for a moment. "Fuck, you're so cute."

Not the reaction she had expected, but okay.

"I'm sorry," he said as he lowered his hands, locking gazes with her," it's just that you seem like exactly what I need. You have this whole ditzy yet very sharp thing going about you and it's amazing." He breathed out, happy tone quietening a bit. "And you are right, but it was a long time ago. You shouldn't worry about it now, I can focus my full attention on you."

She knew he was sweet, but she couldn't help but feel nothing as he confessed whatever liking he had developed to her. With love she always had wanted to be swept off the feet, to be bewitched, to have her soul write stories in the stars with his, but this was so simple. As she looked him in the eye he seemed to realize exactly what she was going to say and so he interrupted her, shaking his head.

"Think it over," he said," I don't have to have your answer right now." He winked at her. "But if I am already this much fun as your fake boyfriend, you just know I'll be a riot as your real one."

He pointed at the left pathway then. "And I think that way would be best."

She took a step, but her intuition all of a sudden started screaming at her to go right, like something had suddenly gone terribly wrong. Though she normally was not one to stop listening to it, she still kept moving, mostly because danger meant the Reaper might be there. Besides, she couldn't die anyway, so what was the worst that could happen?

Halfway through the alleyway she felt a chill settling in the air, the muffled voices becoming clearer with every step she took, until she noticed two men at the end.

One of them was smiling, but there was no warmth in his dark eyes, his hair messy but clothes surprisingly pristine. Her gaze flicked to the scar running through his eyebrow, but it was the splatter of blood on his cheek which kept her attention and then afterwards the man beneath his feet, whose voice broke with his tears.

"I swear," he said," that's all I know about doctor Amsel, I never really spoke that much with her -"

Without a warning the man slit his throat, watching the blood drip down as the man fell down, his body soaking in shadows. When his ghost came out he started screaming, Jonathan shouting at the same time as he stumbled back, falling on the floor as he lost his balance.

"Now who do we have here?" the man drawled," eavesdroppers?"

"Shit, shit, shit," Jonathan hissed," a real serial killer? I was joking! Fuck, are we going to die? Wait, you can't die - Am I going to die?"

"You sure are a talker, aren't you?" the man chuckled, no humor in his voice as his gaze flicked to his bloody knife," I hate talkers."

"I hope everyone in your life gets cursed, Nate Parker!" the ghost screamed at him, hysterical almost as he shouted the lungs out of his body," I hope you die the worst death possible, all alone!"

"Nate Parker," Delilah said, tilting her head," right?"

Jonathan seemed like he was going to faint. "Nate Parker? Out of all the serial killers, we had to get the craziest one?" He quickly rummaged through his backpack, Nate not seeming to mind at all as he calmly kept walking towards them, no hurry in his pace. "Fuck my life, I don't have any weapon at all."

"I wonder," Nate said, stretching out his hand so the knife scratched along the wall with every step he took," I might be no one at all."

He stopped right in front of her, Jonathan staring up at him with fearful eyes from the floor, but all she did was stare back.

"Aren't you going to run?" he whispered.

"Why?" she said," are you going to chase?"

Nate stared at her with a hint of something akin to amusement in his eyes, before he crouched down in front of Jonathan, tapping his knife on the stones.

"How about you?" he said," I'll give you a ten second lead if you go now."

Jonathan fainted, head smacking lifeless against the floor as Nate laughed, Delilah sitting down worriedly beside her friend. She shrugged off the jacket she was wearing, placing it under his head, while Nate watched her, his knife glowing silver in the moonlight.

"Are you not scared of death?" he said, sounding almost bored of her already.

"No," she replied," I really like him instead."

And then as if on cue, the Reaper appeared out of thin air, gaze wandering from the crying ghost to Nate, before an emotion finally dawned in it once it settled on her.

"I'll let you meet him then," Nate smiled.

Just as he raised his arm, the Reaper shot in action, hand immediately spreading out towards them. Time seemed to freeze, Nate not blinking anymore as Jonathan's chest stopped moving, but all she could focus on was him, as he stared down at his hand incredulously.

"I wasn't meant to interfere," he muttered to himself, shaking his head," I know better."

She didn't speak and he breathed in, finally daring to lock eyes with her again.

"Delilah," he said, her name soft on his tongue.

With a wide smile she walked towards him, only stopping when she was right in front of him.

"I guess fate was on my side after all."