+++ Daydreams +++

| Twelve |

"He, or she - I couldn't tell the gender - was telling me about how I would see my world again. Except I wouldn't be able to interact the same I did before. It said that I could never see or go to meet my dad, my friends, or even that place I hated - school." My voice was wavering and I hated it. "The being said I would only serve as a guide. A guide for the dead."

Incubus was deathly silent as I spoke. He had a hand on his chin and was staring at me intently. So much so, that I thought if he stared at me any longer - like that - I would melt. Maybe that's what he was trying to do.

"That's when I freaked out and began to struggle. I tried to sit up and push away all those people who stared down at me. But I couldn't. I couldn't move at all. And when I tried to scream, because it felt like they were torturing me by telling me I could go back but I couldn't ever have the same life again, I was sucked into white light again. Now I floated through stark whiteness. Unlike before, everything thing here - which was nothing - was white. I hated it more than the black."

"Then what?" He spoke up suddenly, catching me off guard by how interested and...solemn her sounded. Could Incubus even feel solemn?

"Then I blinked." I replied, sighing heavily. I walked to the curb where the dead woman's body still laughing. It had already gone into the first stage of death: rigor-mortis. It was stiff and looked grey. Her eyelids had turned blue, and her fingers snapped as the bone underneath the cold, white flesh broke. I had been trying to curl her fingers into a palm. Apparently, in Ancient Rome they would have their warriors arms crossed over their chests like a mummy, with their hands curled into fists. It was a sign of honourability and courage. It showed everyone that they died fighting till the end.

"When I opened my eyes again, I was there." I said, staring down at the woman's face. Her skin was a little wrinkled for a person that young. But they were all the good wrinkles. Like the crows feet at the edges of her eyes that told me she smiled so wide and so much. And like that faint lines around her mouth that told me she liked to talk. And like the thin tracery that laced itself along her slender hands which told me she liked to make art and work hard. And Incubus had taken all that away from her.

"There where?" He asked. He didn't sit down. He just continued to stand in front of me while I spoke my depressing story.

"There." I said sharply. "Where you murdered me. Those beings...I had thought they were angels, but now that I think about it, they don't seem like it at all. How cruel is it to return a broken soul back to the very place she perished? How evil is it to send her back to the same world, but tell her she can't be the person she had been before - that she can't see her dad, her friends?"

I looked up at Incubus' face. It was blank. But his eyes were another story.

"I guess now that I know there are beings out there that are much worse, you don't seem that bad after all." I said, looking back down at the dead woman's face. As morbid as it sounds, there was something that death did to everyone. Whether they be old or young, immoral or not, been terrible to their bodies by infecting then sieves with drugs, or not - death did something to ease their bodies. Once all their muscles had relaxed from the stress, disease and terribleness of this world, they looked so much more...angelic. Peace looked beautiful on everyone's faces.

"I'll tell you a secret." Incubus spoke, sounding mysterious. "Everyone believes that angels and Demons hate each other. We do. But, we live to Erik with each other." He looked me intensely in the the eyes. "We live to use each other as a excuse for the things we do. Angels use us as a way to explain why so many died from a 'plague'. You're right. They aren't good. Heck, they're as evil as us."

I sat in silence as I went through everything he had just said. Then, I decided to change the course or our conversation. I wasn't done talking about myself yet. I wanted to show him how much he made me suffer and how much I wants revenge. And how I would get it. He had to be scared of me now, right?

"I realized, after wandering and thinking about it for quite a long time, what I was. When I came upon a dead bird, I found out how to use it. And now I'm here." I said shortly. "Ever since I had woken up again, in this world, I gad given you do much thought - more than I'd like to admit. And all I could think about was...was how I would wrap my hands around your pretty neck and squeeze..."

"Well...good luck with that, Angel." He sneered. He was more moodier than a pregnant woman. The constant and almost immediate changes with them always gave me a whiplash.

I scowled up at home. He was grinning. He was back to being the aśs that he always was. I stood up abruptly, taking a threatening and defiant step towards him. I was all up in his face , and we both knew he hated that.

"Good...luck..." He whispered into my face through gritted teeth. The wind picked up suddenly and I was readying myself for a surprise attack.

But then I blinked...and he was gone.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Okay, okay...I know what you all are thinking: "WTF MAN!? YOU LEFT US! WE HATE YOU!" — and you have every right to think that — it's just (like I've said a bunch of times before, and I know it's getting old) life just gets to you sometimes, you know? Actually I hope NONE of you know. Anyways...IM BACK!

Who liked Anna's POV!? I know it wasn't up to spur — and I'm working on it! — but I assure you...it's gonna get hella better.

It is the last book after all...