Death is My BFF Rewritten (Book 1 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 33: The Boy Who Died: Part 2

I could assume, at the end of the day, I was just a trophy to him.

I could assume a lot of things, but that was because everything I had learned about him was from a result of my magical necklace or my strange power. I kept assuming because he certainly never trusted me enough to tell me about his past.Unexpectedly, the sound of a train blasted in my ears. It was only a speaker in the haunted maze, but it was enough to get me going I sprinted in one direction like a mad woman until my throat started to burn. I stumbled over myself at one point, falling to the ground. I tried to get back up and my equilibrium was off.

I shut my eyes, kneeling to the ground. Trying to stay calm. I fell into some strange, tranquil trance, my head swaying slightly. You know nothing about your torturer, I thought. Or maybe you do, and you just don't remember. Maybe you know a lot more about him than you think...

"It's as if everything I touch dies, you know?" 

"I'm sure we will become the best of friends." 

"Faith doesn't remember what happened to her, she will remember in due time."

 "I just want to play with you, Blanky." 

"I will come for her when the time is right." 

"Please don't be mad at me. You're my best friend."

"The boy that you’re looking at right now is dead.”

Suddenly, something triggered inside of me.

"You'll show me, won't you?"

My eyes burst open. The world was slightly fuzzy, dreamlike. The corn stalks seemed to tilt to the side, then waved violently back and forth. One moment, I was staring at the pathway in front of me, and the next, I was face down in the dirt with black splotches in front of my eyes. I forced myself back onto my feet, breathing irregularly.

"I want to see! Please, can I see?"

The voice was so distant, so soft that I barely picked it up. I grew absolutely silent, still, turning down another path towards the sound. I crept on soft feet, until I came to a small opening in the maze. There, I saw a little girl with black hair and a yellow dress sitting cross-legged on the ground, clutching Mr. Wiggles in her hands. To my surprise, it was Little Faith, and in front of her, with his back to me, was slightly larger boy with messy, golden-blonde hair.

Death?

“Oooh,” Little Faith said in awe, gawking at the boy with her large, blue eyes. “That was magical! You’re a little boy! I see you in the little boy! I knew you were a cute little boy.”

            “You said you wouldn't make me uncomfortable."

                       "But you have freckles!” She leaned in, eyes wide and curious. “You had less scars as a boy! And those metal thingies on your face are gone. They make you look mean…”

“Then they’re representing me accurately,” the boy muttered. “This is called shifting. This is what I looked like when I was twelve, minus the markings,” the boy was saying to her, his accent familiar, but the pitch of his voice matching a little boy. I couldn’t help but feel like this had happened before, and for a moment, the corn maze momentarily melted away, revealing my old pink themed bedroom. “I didn’t really think this would work...”

            “Why?”

            “I can only take the form of things I get…. rid of. But I didn’t think that I could shift into a younger version of myself. I don’t know how long I can hold this illusion up, it doesn’t feel as strong as my other ones…”