Death Is My BFFLAD (Book Two Original Series)

Chapter 9: My Bad

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WARNING: This might be really confusing... OR you're going to have a AHA! moment!

~Holy water! Cannot help me now!~Seven devils all around me ~Seven devils in my house. ~I'll be dead before the day is done. ~Seven devils all around you. ~Seven devils in your eyes.

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"See, that wasn't that bad," Death said between laughs after he took the longest drag from a cigarette I had ever seen and blew out a puff that strangely resembled a taco.

Anyways, for the record, it wasn't the cigarette he made me run across the street and get. The one that almost got me ran over by a huge truck. The one that got my fuzzy socks all dirty and made me look like an idiot--you know, since nobody crosses the street to pick up a random cigarette in the middle of the road.

After I complained to Death about my fuzzy socks being dirty, he couldn't stop laughing for five minutes straight. When I started to walk away, he gave my butt the hardest smack I have ever gotten and said, "Yaw!" as if I was his new slave that would cross the street to get his cigarettes for then on.

I decided to ignore him the rest of the way home.

"Oh come on," he said from behind me after a few minutes of silence. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean to hit it that hard."

I shook my head and tried to distract myself by the darkened sky. It of course looked like it was going to rain again and the clouds were honing in over the sun, having a dark and thick look to them. I knew if I didn't quicken my pace, it would down pour on me and I would walk home a human sponge.

As I crossed my arms over my chest with the threateningly cold breeze, I started to wondered why I had ever gotten out of that taxi in the first place.

I expected Death to say something like, "I know just how to warm you up, Cupcake," or "My body temperature makes the girls coo," or "They call me the walking snuggie," like he usually commented on everything I did.

But he didn't. For the last ten minutes of the slw walk he actually hadn't said...anything.

I took a quick peek over my shoulder to see he was walking behind me but at a slower, leisure pace, as if he was dragging himself a long. I frowned when I turned back around and then decided to ask him what was wrong. I knew he was acting really strange in the taxi earlier that day, and he mentioned he was hungry...

For me?

But no, he stopped acting funny once he left the taxi. He was fine, just getting over a bug or maybe...

He's just waiting for the perfect moment you snatch you up. Note his quick change in character, a rebellious thought danced into my mind.

Although predictable to anyone else, I had come to the idea that I was safe around Death. That he wasn't looking to kill me anymore, but to almost protect me. I was waiting for the perfect moment to confront him, to tell him off, that I wanted answers.

When I whirled around he had disappeared.

I stopped walking and searched for him along the darkening streets. The storm clouds had crawled completely over Chicago, their threats to release their moisture on anyone's silks or any delicate clothing at their peak.

"I have to go."

I turned towards the masculine voice, and met the cloaked chest of the Angel of Death. He no longer wore a leather jacket or a red Mohawk. "Why?" is what I asked out loud.