Killing Me Softly (On Hiatus)

He's Not Dead

A short blast of cold air.

A sharp, searing pain.

A deafening screech.

That was all Mathias Cole could remember. When he awoke in Westwood's Mercy View Hospital three days later, he had been told he had been in an accident. He couldn't even remember being in a vehicle.

"How are you feeling today?" A strict, older nurse stood next to Matt's bed and took note of his heart rate and I.V. drip. Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons played softly from the radio in the corner of the room. Matt used to have a partner in his room, but the older woman had recovered and been released earlier in the week. However, her radio had remained behind and constantly oozed music from a generation that was way before Matt's time. He didn't mind though. It reminded him of nights spent with his grandmother.

"Mr. Cole?" The nurse questioned after Matt didn't answer her question. Matt shook his sense of nostalgia before he smiled at the nurse.

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied as the nurse nodded.

"Dinner will be here in an hour, alright? It's Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes with─"

"Let me guess. Jello and apple juice?" Matt quickly interrupted as the nurse pursed her lips before she forced out a strangled chuckle.

"No. Pudding and sweet tea," she replied as Matt shrugged his shoulders, momentarily forgetting the deep, ugly bruising that covered his chest and back. He kept himself from cringing in front of the nurse. He had just gotten his morphine dosage lowered and he was finally thinking clearly.

"You win some; you lose some," he remarked just as the nurse turned and left him alone again. Matt sighed as he fought back the groans of pain that threatened to escape his throat. His chocolate eyes trailed over to his bedside table where the call button, a phone, a lamp, and a raggedy, well-read book laid. He paused at the thought of using the call button. He could handle the pain. He just had to get his mind off of it. He turned his attention to the phone and thought about who he could call to distract himself. His parents were probably home. He quickly knocked their names off of the list. They didn't even know what he had been doing the night he'd had been in his accident. Of course, he didn't either. He thought to his friends. He sighed. He didn't know any of his friends' numbers off the top of his head. He looked over at the empty bed next to his and felt loneliness creep up on him. Every day, that elderly woman had someone visiting her and they would always include Matt in their conversations. He missed them. He missed the comfort in knowing he wasn't alone in the beige, sterile room.

**

Alexa Winters frowned as she stood in the hallway outside of the hospital room that was labeled Mathias Cole. He should be dead. She didn't understand why he wasn't. She had made sure that the accident was horrific enough to kill him and yet he had escaped, practically unscathed.

"Getting old are we, Winters?" A deep, baritone voice asked as Alexa turned to face its owner. The man was handsome and just over six feet tall with black waves that lay haphazardly on his head just past his ears. His amber eyes were serious as he stood with his arms folded across his broad chest. Alexa could feel the authority and the power that oozed off of him.

"You should talk, Grimm," Alexa growled as she placed her hands on her hips. Roderick Grimm was the oldest thing Alexa knew. After all, he was the Grim Reaper. He was also her boss. Roderick smirked as a young female nurse walked between them and smiled coyly at him. Alexa rolled her eyes.

"Still chasing after humans then? Even if your kiss entails their doom?" She asked as Roderick chuckled.

"Everyone loves to flirt with Death," he replied as he stepped toward his subordinate. Alexa Winters had been working for him almost two centuries. His eyes swept her form. She was a pretty girl with long dark brown hair and the same amber eyes all Reapers possessed. Her dark clothes extenuated her pale skin. The top of her head barely came to Roderick's chin.