WATTYS 2023 SHORTLIST
Cara, a troubled college dropout, finds herself slowly falling for a handsome stranger - who turns out to be Death incarnate. But the arrival of a mysterious being puts Death's home for lost souls and his very existence at risk...
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Dreamy McPerfectface leaps off of the counter, his eyes widening as my deafening scream echoes around the kitchen. I run out of air.
He sags, relieved. "Okay. Now please, don't–"
I scream again, frozen as I face this trespasser who is way too hot and way too confused and...and he's wearing a ratty t-shirt that says PROUD MOM OF A PUG.
Add insane to that list.
I start to back into the foyer, hands held out in front of my body to ward off the insane man. To my horror, he slowly advances towards me, his arms also extended as if he fears that I will attack. As if I'm not half his size and probably know a whole lot less about chokeholds. My fear-laced brain wonders just how many other people might be hiding in the house, waiting to pounce at me. I worry that my heart will pound through my chest and flop onto the floor.
I was right about the commune.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Dreamy says in half-speed, eyes wide. As if I'm dumb or something. Despite myself, I feel affronted. He may be preparing to kill me, but I'm not stupid.
"That's what serial killers always say," I snap, grasping for anything that might serve as a weapon. But I'm now in the dead center of the foyer, and there's nothing to defend myself with except for the mothball-ridden sofa. Like that'll do me any good. He has me trapped, unless I can make it to the door. But then, he may try to chase me through the woods, and I'm not sure I have the stamina to outrun him all the way back to town. "Right before they consume your insides. And they usually don't wear stupid shirts while they do it."
His brows furrow, and he stops in the middle of the foyer, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Wait, what?"
I falter in return, nearly tripping backwards over my useless legs. The front door is only a few feet away, but despite everything, I feel surprised. Has this guy never read the playbook for psycho freaks? Because he's not even trying to act like one. The closer I look, the more I realize that his mouth is curved with uncertainty instead of cruelty, that his eyes shine with fear instead of blind rage.
Almost as if this is his house. And I'm the trespasser.
Oh God. My stomach drops. Oh God. Oh God. I'm going to be sick.
"I'm sorry," I mutter, voice shaking, and I turn to run out of the house, feeling like the biggest fool this side of the Mississippi. Why the fuck did Mem tell me to stay in someone else's house? Why would she have the key to someone else's house?
But before I can cross the threshold, I hear Dreamy ask, "You can see me?"
I turn around. "Uh...what?"
"You can see me?" He asks again, spreading his arms apart as if he's walking through a metal detector. Okay, maybe he is a little insane – or very lonely. He must be if he inhabits a place such as this. But for some reason, his presence doesn't frighten me as much as it did before.
