Enjoy, my fans. Thank you for following the story this far. <3 The Phantom of The Opera will always be my inspiration for my Death and as seen to the right, this is the point of no return in this story.
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~At last, the point of no return. No backward glances. Our games of make believe are at their end. No use resisting. Abandon thoughts and let the dream decend.
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I don't know how long my eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling of an all too familiar bedroom before I slowly lifted my head off of my pillow in an upright position.
I was in my room. My real room in my parents' home.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Startled, I turned my head towards the entrance of my room. It was my Father, smiling brightly at me. He wore a pair of his old jeans and one of his favorite leather belts, paired with a dark blue sweater and a silver Rolex that my Mother had gotten him as a surprise for his birthday the year before. As he neared I saw he was clearly shaven. I could already smell the aftershave he had always used, the cologne. It brought tears to my eyes when he came over and hugged me tightly. Even his hair smelled the same.
Was I dreaming?
"Daddy? W-what are you doing here?"
He pulled back, frowning, then slowly his face lit with amusement. The bed caved in slightly as he sat down. "I live here?"
"I...how did I get here?"
My Dad's expression grew serious. "Honey, you came here late last night with your Mother and fell asleep in your bed. She told me you missed us."
Walking into the home? My Mother? I didn't remember any of that...
I blinked a few times before it all started to come back to me. The hospital. Death. The memories.
"Holy--"
I stood up from the bed, clutching my hands to my head and shutting my eyes as images flashed before me. I was flying over the Chicago city, looking down, with someone holding me to their chest. Suddenly the city melted into trees, into suburbs, and then I could see my house in the distance. My captor landed softly onto my driveway, gently turned me around and clutched my drooping head in both of their leather hands.
"Invite me in. You'll be safe here for the time being," the voice had reminded me of my Mothers, blended in with a deeper, more masculine voice towards the beginning.
"Can you come in?" I asked groggily. The dark shape of a person in front of me began to melt into a woman as we approached the house, holding me with the same strength as a man even as we entered the home.
My father got up from his couch as we walked in. He was reading the newspaper as he always did. I could barely concentrate on his words. "Faith?" He asked, looking to the person holding me with a frown before reverting his eyes back to me. He looked positively shocked to see both of us. "What are you doing here, honey? I thought you were at a late meeting?"
"It got cancelled so I called Faith to see her. She's feeling a little ill right now. We were shopping the entire day and had to leave because she was nauseous," my Mother's voice said smoothly next to me. It sounded like her, but the strong grip at my arm made me think otherwise even in my groggy state.
"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.
He hovered those bare finger tips along the skin of my arm and sending thousands of electrical currents to my chest.
"I do anything I wish to humans just like you," he continued, whispering. "I assure you, if you ever tell a soul of my presence, it would be my absolute pleasure to slit each and every person you have spoken to in your entire life's, neck, then replay each of the kills on high definition for you. Sound like fun?"
His finger neared towards my bared neck. As our skin met, I felt my skin grow a thousand degrees hotter. He slid an imaginary knife across my throat then sat up on the bed close to my face, leaning over.
"I hope you're extra fiesty the next time we encounter one another," Death admitted in a low voice. "I prefer that, to 'disoriented Faith'," he hissed out hotly, brushing his warm lips over a sensitive part of my neck. Moments later the cloaked man dissapeared into a cloud of darkness.
"Faith?" My Father had his hand on my arm. It was what pulled me out of the memory. "Is everything ok?"
I blinked a few times before being able to answer "Yes, sorry. I'm still a little...ill."
Ill? Don't you mean, still under the trance Death unethically put you in so that you would be like a rag doll once again? You shouldn't even be talking to your Father right now. You should be getting your revenge with Death. You should be sorting out those memories of yours that are waiting to be unraveled like a yo-yo! What are you doing?!
Death. The thought of him made my hands clench.
"Do you want something to eat? Your Mom has stuff on the table for the three of us..." He put his hands out in an open way, before dropping them at his sides. I didn't realize he wanted a hug. My Father smiled down at me. "I'm glad you came to visit, I missed you."
I felt my eyes go watery. I hugged him, hard. My Father was a great hugger and wrapped his arms around my tightly. "I missed you too, Daddy," I said, trying not to let my voice crack. "I missed Mom too. So much, I was just..."
Ignoring you.
As I pulled back and looked into those brown eyes of my father, I could only think of all the heart ache I would give him by saying I had ignored him and my Mother on purpose. Who knew what telling him of Death would do to him as well, leaving the fact that Death would apparently slit his throat horridly shortly afterwards. "I'm hungry," was what I blurted up at him.
***
Once I was alone, I leaped onto my bed with my old room phone, a banana phone, and dialed in a memorized cell phone number, blowing out a slow breath to calm down my constantly-on-the --edge-nerves.
The line picked up within a few rings. "Hello?"
"It's me."
Marcy sighed into the phone. "Hey, girl."
I stared at the wall in front of me. Marcy and I had become entirely distant for mysterious reasons. I wanted to make sure she knew where I was, just encase she decided to come back from where ever she was. "I'm at my parents house. I just thought I'd tell you encase you came home and thought I had disappeared from the face of the earth, just like you," I practically bit out.
"Faith..." I heard the sound of a door closing. She had isolated herself in a room. "I'm really sorry I haven't been there for you. I know this whole thing with David--"
"I don't want to talk about him," I said sharply, cutting her off. "I want to talk about how you've been a horrible friend to me. You're never home. I suck at cooking."
She doesn't care about you, inner voice said.
"What? Yes I am!" she defended. "I've only been gone for like a week!"
"Dude. There are absolutely no clothes in your closet. I'm an orphan!"
Marcy laughed. "I've just had a bunch of exams this week. I've been staying over my friends house to study...that's it. You know how many times I change my outfit! I'm not abandoning you or anything!"
I felt a little relieved. "Alright, I believe--"
"I swear, sister, I was literally going to call you tomorrow to ask you something. I wanted to know if you would go to this club with me, and only me. It's called "Dark Seduce". We'd have to sneak in, though. Their back room is being rented out by some sort of private Halloween masquerade and I wanted to try and sneak in!"
I was already shaking my head, but it wasn't to say 'no.' "Oh my God, I was literally afraid you'd try and take me to a carnival again with a billion clowns walking around."
She burst out laughing. I was serious. I was about tired of going places were Demon clowns would be.
"Mr. Mystique Minion’s Mania?" Marcy guessed quite loudly. I pulled the phone slightly away from my ear as she continued to scream excitedly. "That carnival is suppose to be banging! Everyone is going! When's that, like Saturday? We can probably make that too if you quit whining about the clowns! Nobody likes clowns! Please can we go?!"
"Well you haven't met the kind of clowns I'm talking about," I mumbled under my breath. There was no way I was going to a carnival. I shouldn't have even said anything.
"What?"
Oh please, you'd go to the carnival if a smokin' single man asked you. We both know by now you're undoubtly attracted to terrifying things no matter where you are. Hey, speaking of terrifying things you're attracted to, maybe now is the time to tell buddy Marcy you're on house arrest by the Grim Reaper himself. Make sure to throw in a 'Happy Halloween!' as well.
Somehow, my inner voice was always a bit more sarcastic than necessary.
***
"Chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate shavings, whipped cream, a cherry, and extra, extra thick syrup. Both of your favorites," my mom said with a bright smile. She sat in the seat across from me.
It was awkward to see my mother again because I wasn't sure if she remembered the last time we spoke, when she was drunk at my apartment. My Mother had said she had something important to me but had forgotten. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was something about Death, and he had prevented it from being said. My Mother had also asked me if I still loved her, which at the moment, I didn't know for sure. I was unsure because of the fact that she had kept Death a secret from me. I was beginning to think it was childish, of course I would always love my Mother no matter what.
But as I chewed on the large piece of pancake in my mouth I couldn't help lift my eyes across the table-- to see my Mother gazing at me with small smile. The smile was almost sad, as if she wasn't expecting to see me again. Was I suppose to see her again?
The smile only reminded me that my Mother knew a lot more about the deal between her and Death than I did, and that like me, she obviously wasn't suppose to tell anyone of him. I thought about that for a moment. Would Death let it slide that my Mother and I discussed him? It just didn't make any sense that both of us most likely knew about him and couldn't talk to each other about it.
Her eyes darted back to me. It was clear; she was already starting to get up to get me more pancakes. She knew something I didn't know; a reason why I wouldn't be in that kitchen, and she wasn't telling me.
"Mom?"
If I asked her, would she be incapable to tell me if David was Death?
No, my inner voice answered, but she wouldn't because she knows that he will know. She doesn't want to hurt you anymore.
Then I realized if I couldn't physically ask her about Death and could I talk to her about who I thought was Death, did that mean David wasn't Death?
My Dad cleared his throat. Apparently my deep in thought was the cause of the silence at the table. "So what's new, pumpkin?"
"David fired me the other day," I blurted, I stabbing violently at a piece of my pancake. The mere name off my lips made my fists clench my fork and knife with a ferocious passion. "I'm sure he already has another assistant and I'm fine with that."
Liar.
Dad put his fork and knife down slowly as if he was already prepared for this conversation. "Were you two in a relationship? Because from what you told me a while ago, you hated the guy anyways."
Mom looked confused. "She did? That's not what she told me..."
My eyes widened. This was going downhill real fast. "No! I mean--yes, but no! I'm not in a relationship--"
Dad leaned completely in my view, his eyes angry. "What's that thing on your neck? Did you get hit by a softball or have you been letting this guy touch you?"
"Hickey?" I immediately touched my neck, blushing, at the recollection of Death's fascination of my neck the night before. I could feel Death's teeth pleasurably scraping against my neck as I felt the rising area of skin, growing hotter by the second. I pulled away from the area. It was also the night I found David's license on my fridge with a piece of paper, implying that he was in fact Death.
That means David could have given you the hickey as well...Gosh, you're really the player these days. Death, David, and Leo.
Leo ditching me at the restaurant was just strange. I was almost sure it was something important, but I couldn't even think about it because it made me so upset. It felt like a real date; something I honestly hadn't had in a while and he...left me.
"We were...we were never," I sputtered out. "I told him to stop trying to...make a move. David just wanted to go on a date, it never went out of hand."
Maybe you forgot that fighting scene you guys had. Your parents would love a scene by scene replay, especially the part where you nailed him straight in the balls! Woo-hoo!
"Was that before or after you let him give you that hickey?" Mom snapped. It was the first time in a while she wasn't babying me and instead being assertive. My Mother and Father were staring intently at me, waiting for an answer. It was starting to get me confused how up to that point I thought my Mother had loved David, and at that moment she looked like she was about to explode.
Dad gave me a hard look, not bothering to lean over to observe the area as well. I could see the pure disappointment in his eyes."Hmm? Was that before or after the hickey, Faith? Because we can sue this guy if he sexually assaulted you. We can get him back for you."
I shut my eyes, squeezing the sides of my head at an incoming headache. "I won't do that."
I heard my Dad's chair push back. "Then I'm going to go pay this punk a visit. When I'm done, Faith, I want you to know he won't have any nuts, or dignity. And you better believe he'll call you up crying with an apology."
Mom stayed silent. She obviously agreed with my Father's bizarre, proctive-Dad-mode tactics.
Again, I didn't know what to say. They were making David sound like he was an old man feeling me up! He was practically my age!
Well, let's see. We have reason to believe Death is David... Death is hundreds of years old. He most likely is the one that's been touching you. Do you really want to get technical here? And it doesn't even matter how old he looks or how old you think the guy is, he touched you inappropriately many times while he had a girlfriend.
My inner self was right. But then I thought to myself, couldn't he just manipulate people into thinking otherwise if he was Death after all?
There's only so much a person can cover up. And what are you doing at your parents house right now? Clearly you need to get off your ass and get the deets on this whole David is Death thing. Come on girl, step up your game.
David has to be Death, I told my own thoughts, shaking my head. He has his exact eyes.
Dad abruptly sat back in his chair, jerking me away from my own thoughts. "I won't do that to him. I won't report him, or sue him, or anything else. He's..he's young. We're both young and we never did anything I didn't try and prevent..." Whoa, there Black Stallion! I realized how bad that sentence sounded so I struggled to revive myself. "I-I-I can just get another job. It won't be as much pay but it will still be nicer then the environment I was in," I replied hurriedly to my Father.
My Father looked completely confused. "What did you just say?"
I cleared my throat. "I won't do that to him. He's...he's young and I can get another job."
He frowned, scratching his head slowly. "No, honey... before that. I didn't--I don't think at least--I'm not exactly sure if I heard you right." He turned to my Mother. "Is she...depressed, Lisa?"
Mom covered her mouth as if she was going to throw up. She stood up from the table, touching her chest as if she was struggling to breath.
I gawked at my Father. Why is she...?
"David is death?" Dad repeated to himself, laughing. He looked to my Mother who had grown as white as a white sheet. "Is he suddenly her source of suicidal thoughts? I thought that therapist helped our daughter."
I felt the world go slow as my Father said those words that were so meaningless to him that he was laughing a little. David is Death.
A solid chill went down my back. I looked to my Mother, who was staring intently at me and felt like I was going to cry. Is he really Death? Her eyes told me. I nodded slowly. She didn't seemed shocked, just scared.
I kissed my Father on the cheek, who still looked confused. "I h-have to go. I'll see you soon." My words were shaking. I stopped in front of my Mother. She was hugging herself, shaking her head. I gave her a kiss on the cheek as well.
Her blue eyes were filled with tears. "Wait, don't leave yet!" Her words were rushed. She reached out and grabbed my hands. "Faith, I won't let you go. I can't. He...I remember now. He visited me before you were eighteen. I remember it all--"
I tried to yank away. Somehow, I knew I didn't want to hear this. "Let me go. I don't want to--"
"He's here already! I have to tell you before he makes me forget!" She held me still. "I see his face," she whispered, her voice cracking, "everywhere, and yet I can never put two and two together. Until now. The day you were shot...I saw his face before you did. It's all my fault. I saw that face, those eyes, and I just couldn't say no. He was so beautiful, Faith, he's so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. I knew he was an Angel, but I didn't know what kind..or his intentions towards you until--" She started to cry, sputtering her words out as best as she could. "--until he told me. He's evil, Faith. The Angel--Monster returned, just like he said. He told me everything. How you already were assigned a Guardian Angel, John, and that he would find a way to destroy him, taking his place forcibly.How he would leave you until you're eighteenth birthday, when you were finally an adult. He told me he would find a way to isolate you--hire you at his malicious corporation, then break you day by day. All to see if you were part of some sort of...sick...prophecy. Then he told me I could forget everything he told me. The option was all I wanted...I couldn't take everything he was explaining to me. His...plans for you, my...my baby!"
Mom started to hyperventilate, covering her face. I wasn't breathing all together. My tears were frozen in their sockets. I took a step away from my Mother. I didn't know what I was feeling. I was...empty.
"I remember now..." she whispered. "I remember everything that I never wanted to know, or create. But I did...it's all my fault. I ruined my baby's life. I'm so sorry Faith, I'm so, so, sorry."
"What the hell is going on?" Dad questioned, getting back up from his chair. "I have absolutely no idea what's going on!" He looked to both of us. "Is this some sort of joke?"
I wished it was.
"I'll...I'll fix this," I told Mom, touching her hand for a moment. Her skin was warmer than mine. I pulled back as if she would feel the dead, cold feeling within me.
"No you can't," she said almost immediately, pushing against the walls of her tears. Her smile was sad. "It's too late. It was always too late. I'm so sorry."
Too late. I'm so sorry.
I forced myself away from her. Death was going to come to my home. I had to protect my family and meet him first. I keep my Mother's memory, my sanity, and my life in check. I wouldn't let him ruin me.
However, as I turned, I couldn't help but feel a strong change in the atmosphere. A string of electrical currents. I turned around, and my Mother was suddenly doing the dishes, whistling, my Father reading the newspaper he had set down at the table.
My Dad looked up and grinned at me, eyes crinkling. "Have fun at the mall, pumpkin. Bring me back a twisty pretzel."
The mall? I looked to my Mother. She smiled at me with her white teeth, her paleness gone. My throat closed up. They...forgot.
A solid bang on the front door made my back go rigidly straight. Had the knock been an ounce stronger, the wood would have splintered into toothpicks.
Neither of my parents did so much as flinch.
There was no time. I slipped on my Mother's jogging sneakers. Next, searched around the living room, ignoring the pounding of my heart--the disgusting, excited anticipation of seeing Death once again. I was on my knees, diving through an old treasure box that was passed down through my family, disguised as a coffee table. There I found what I was looking for. A large, silver cross.
My reflection stared back at me from it's surface. At first, I barely recognized myself. I looked..grown up. My eyes were calm, not wide with fear, and my expression was relaxed, even though my hands were shaking. I didn't look like a skeleton, or a ghost of myself, I looked normal.
And I was going to keep it that way.
The lights flickered in my house. He was becoming more and more agitated.
I held it between my hands, eying the front door. A black mist seeped from under it like spiders, creeping, and forcibly crawling against the barriers of the house; what kept the evil from the good.
Get him away from your family as fast as you can. You know where to go.
I sprinted out the back door and practically leaped off of the porch, bare feet softly hitting the rain soaked grass. I ran like my life depended on it, clasping the large silver cross firmly between my hands.
I had just breached the fence between my house and our neighborhood jogging path through the woods when I looked down, spotting the elongated dark shadow, far too large for a ordinary birds wingspan. I watched those wings flap once, then twice, then still-- professionally gliding along the air with the utmost precision.
The wings soared directly above me.
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The next book in this series is "Death Is My Frenemy."
;)
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