Death Is My BFFLAD (Book Two Original Series)

Chapter 22: The Point of No Return

"No," I moaned, trying to pull away.

"She's sick?" My Father started to stand up.

"No need to get up, Henry, I'll take care of her," the actor finished cleanly. The grip on my arm tightened.

My Father nodded with a small smile, before sitting back slowly in his chair, staring intently at the actor next to me. "Oh..." He returned to his newspaper as if he never saw us.

I was pulled through the kitchen in a quick manner, then the hallway, before I felt the person next to me grow bigger, wider. They had to duck a little to get through my bedroom archway, pulled me into the room, and shut the door with a click, locking it.

I felt his hand on my wrist and another on my arm, putting me in yet another trance. "You're safe here for the night. I'll leave you a note or something encase you don't remember what I tell you in a few moments," the shadow of a man told me, immediately going to my vanity to get out a set of pajamas. I was wearing a strange outfit, which melted away into a hospital gurney as I stared down at it.

Soft cotton met my hands. He handed me my clothes and made me get dressed as he turned his back and tried my window a few times, pulling it up and down. After a while, he started to run his dark fingers over the outside of the window, whispering a foreign tongue.

"What are you doing?" I asked, slurring slightly.

The hooded man turned to look over his shoulder at me. "Putting a....we'll call it a spell on your house, so that you don't get eaten alive while you're sleeping. Now go lay on your bed under the covers and be quiet, you're being very annoying."

I blinked a few times before doing what he said. After some more whispering, Death walked into my bathroom, flipped a light on, moved my shower curtains to the side, closing the door behind him when he exited. He checked the closet and even under the bed as well.

I watched him the entire time.

Death lifted his head from under my bed. I could feel his eyes on me and had he not been wearing a hood, that would be the only part of his face I would have seen the way he was peering over the bed.

I could have sworn I heard Death swear under his breath before he finally spoke. "God, I can see it already in your eyes." He lifted the rest his hooded head from its hidden spot next to my bed. "You're going to want to spill everything of me to your mother. You're going to think it'll help you feel better." He laughed a little, then grew serious. "But I want to let you in on a secret, Faith...one that I thoroughly hope you remember the next time you wish to tell anyone of me, or any of those sweet memories that will graze your precious mind within the next few days."

Abruptly, his fingers met the inside of my wrist. "You're bonded to me," he said darkly, rubbing the area a few times. "And I've never kept any of my slaves or Hell Hounds for any longer than a few months-- without killing them, that is. Slaughtering them, actually. Maybe it's because I'm sadistic, or I grew up with a bastard for a Father, or maybe I just enjoy the thrill of watching the light leave another's eyes. The point of the matter is...I like to kill things for fun, I have severe anger issues--to the point that I sometimes have to be chained up, and I love the taste of blood. Had my scythe been wiped, it would have the DNA of thousands from its tip to end. I've always been like this and being as I am is what makes the world go right."

The bed dipped significantly. Death had lay down next to me, facing my stilled body as I continued to stare blankly at him. "So you see. Faith," he whispered to me, holding my wrist out between us as he slipped off one of his gloves. He revealed a large, tanned hand that dripped with inky black lines from his finger tips, to the mystery of darkness past his sleeve.