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Death's Plan B
MORNINGS ARE DECEIVING little things. When the sun shines bright, people might assume that the day will be good due to the fine start. When the rain pitter patters against the glass window of our homes, people might sleep in due to the wonderful cooling calm temperature. Children look forward to snowy mornings, and perhaps even some adults will too.
But I know. I know that mornings don't represent what might happen in the day. Mornings are liars, tricksters, illusionists. They show you a simple canvas and the art is yours to paint using imagination as ink. It is nothing but a fraud placed before you, to tempt you to believe.
I was once someone that believed. I believed in blissful mornings, pancake with friends and birds chirping melodiously. I believed in laughter, of joy and sunshine and happiness that would ring loud and clear down the street as the children wake. I believed in kindness, and innocence of the world being part of the rays of dawn.
Sadly, that belief was eradicated from me the night of my 21st birthday.
Death played me for a fool, toying with my emotions and my thinking for many hours. He kept me prisoner in my own town, threatening to have me killed if I lost in a game of cat and mouse. And because of that, I live in fear.
When there is fear, belief is lost.
Most of the days, my friends would stay over at my house, each of us too afraid to even look straight into the dark. I don't know about them, but Death created for me a fear of shadows. I was afraid that whenever I let my guard down, he would appear from the dark and put an end to my life. And though much of my days were peaceful, the constant vigilance that was instilled within me never left.
I could hear the ticks of the second hand loud and clear. The clock would always chime louder than any noise, ringing high and crisp in the air above everyone else. It soon became second nature for me to check the time every few seconds. I had eventually become too wary of my surroundings to properly trust each and every scene.
My mother sent multiple psychologists to me every single day. Some stay for hours talking to me about random things, while some others leave barely five minutes in after they assessed that I was too far beyond hope. Out of all the psychologists that were sent to help me with my 'decreasing mental health', no one understood me better than Lisa-Beth.
Miss Lisa-Beth had been hired just three months ago, and ever since then she dropped by every single day to help me with whatever problems I faced. Sometimes, we would talk about random things like coffee and the local news, while others we would dwell deeper into the darker topics of my memories made at the start of the year. Either way, Lisa never pushed me to talk about anything I was too uncomfortable with. She understood me better than any of the other doctors did, simply because she respected my privacy. Aside from that, maybe our small age difference made a shift too. Lisa was only about seven or so years older than me, and it was easier for me to talk to her than to talk to some old folk that didn't believe in 'magic'.
"Anniversaries to some are like counting the years spent doing something great, years spent together, or years spent alive." I started slowly, voice dropping to a drawl as I peeked cautiously out of my bedroom blinds, scanning the road to see if there was a cloaked figure watching my every movement. "I view anniversaries as counting down the days till Death finds me."
Lisa sipped calmly on her cup of tea, pushing her wide hipster glasses further up her nose before offering me a small smile. Gently, she placed the cup down on my bedside table before standing up to assess the road with me. "What was he like, if I might ask."
"Huh?" Turning back, my lips formed a small 'o' when I realized that she wanted to know more about the cynical spirit that was after my life. "Oh. Well, he was very tall, very dark personality. When he took the form of another boy, I felt so safe with him. I felt protected even. However, when he was after my life, Death was calculative. He became vicious, ruthless and perhaps even psychotic. You probably think I am a bit loose in the brain too, now."
"No," Lisa shrugged, pulling her cardigan closer around her petite body. "No, I don't think that. I told you before, Addison. I believe in this experience you've been through. I don't think you will come up with something like that just because of a small lockdown. The traumatic experience might have been able to create scenes of fantasy, but never one as vivid and seen by several others as well. I may as well be the only one, but I believe you regardless."
At that moment, I could feel a small weight being lifted off my heart as I smiled in relief. At least someone believed in my tale. And as long as there is one that believes, I am safer than I was alone.
The doorbell rang loud and clear, making my ears perk in attention as I hurried down the steps of my house. Flinging the door open after peeking through the peephole, I jumped into my best friend's arms, pulling her towards me as I buried my face into her mess of brown hair.
"I missed you too, Addi." Bella sighed, patting my back lightly as the both of us chuckled softer than we would have many months before. "Let's go in."
"Addison," Lisa called out, picking up her white leather handbag before tossing her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "I'll be taking my leave now, if you may."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Lisa." The older woman smiled, nodding once before she gently shut the door behind her. From inside the house, I could hear the clicking of her high heeled shoes echoing down the gravel of the street.
I turned back to my best friend, holding onto her hand as a worried sigh escaped my lips. "Still no sign of her?"
None of us had heard from Minnie for many months. At first, the three of us had kept in touch, video-calling each other for many sleepless nights. Sometimes, Gabriel, Minnie's new boyfriend and one of the boys that were with our gang back in the boathouse, would also join in.
The deadly experience eventually became a connecting point for Minnie and Gabriel. They really clicked there, always together and smiling more so than I've ever seen the both of them. Surreptitious glances eventually became awe-filled stares from both sides and seeing Minnie happy had been a great ray of sunshine in the cloudy days.
However, there was no recent sign of Minnie. Whenever we asked Gabriel about her whereabouts, hoping that she was in contact with him, he would always sigh dejectedly before giving us a disappointing answer.
"No," he would say. "I was hoping that you guys have heard from her, actually."
I have my suspicions as of to where Minnie had gone, but I refuse to come to terms with it. After all, I've won fair and square. If he were to stoop so low, he would be cheating.
And I was hoping that Death doesn't cheat, but we can't expect for miracles every single day.
Bella shook her head dejectedly, her flattened straight sleek brown hair swinging slightly as she moved. At that movement, there was the familiar sound of the letter flap ringing, followed by a sparkle of gold as my heart stilled. This was how it all started last year, and suddenly, my past was back to haunt me.
On the floor rested a sparkling golden letter, still sealed shut and looking perfectly innocent. With shaking hands and hesitance in my step, I picked up the letter before casting Bella a worried glance. Slowly, my fingers peeled the seal open, breath caught in my throat as Bella peeked over my shoulder to scan the words as well.
Attached to the glittery paper was a roughly chopped section of fire red hair, stuck to the paper with a small bit of clear tape. Along with that were words that sent a shiver down my spine as I shut my eyes, attempting to calm my thundering heart as anxiety filled my blood.
Come and get her.
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