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.o1: deal

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I tap my foot against the ground impatiently as I wait for my little sister, Kayla, to get her candy from the wrinkly old woman standing in her doorway with a smile, dropping a candy bar in the plastic pumpkin. All of the little children scream in excitement as they run down the old wooden stairs and back to their parents, friends, or older siblings. I can’t help but roll my eyes at their overly excited selves, aware that I must look very much like the Grinch, cept I’d be a Grinch who tried to steal Halloween, I have no problem with Christmas, I get presents.

But Halloween . . . no, not only are the kids ultra hyper because of how much sugar they’ve consumed but I hate dressing up in tacky costumes. Kayla’s dressed as a witch—how original—while I’m standing here in my black sweater, jeans, black sneakers and a pair of white bunny ears on my head. Kayla had whined and complained about me not having a costume, and so this is the best I can give her.

Halloween isn't a great time for me, I'm always stuck with taking my little sister out trick or treating and she's always running around so it's extremely hard to keep track of her and not lose her in a crowd of people. I remember I lost her last year and after a half hour of looking I had started to panic, I ran around all the closest blocks before I finally found her in a group with a bunch of other children. I had been so upset I grabbed her, took her away from the group, and yelled at her until she cried. She then proceeded to give me the silent treatment until I apologized and explained in a calmer manner how she can’t just run off with her friends without telling me.

“Faith, I got a lot of candy!” Kayla says with a big, goofy smile as she bounces up to me. I don’t know what it is about younger siblings that make them so annoying really. If she wasn’t my little sister I’d be thinking how adorable she is, but she is my sister, and right now I can’t help but to be annoyed by her.

She reaches for my hand and tugs on it impatiently, pulling me along the sidewalk. We’re not the only ones walking either, and I have to pull on her just to make sure no one from behind runs us over. The streets are littered with kids and their parents. I hate being surrounded by so many people like this, I’m sort of claustrophobic. Being stuck in a crowd like this . . . I hate it. I feel like they’re all sucking my air, taking it from me and making it harder for me to breathe in my fair share.

We go from house to house, Kayla going up to get her candy while I wait on the sidewalk with the other parents and older siblings that are forced to babysit. I raise an eyebrow when an old man gives Kayla a bible and sticks some sort of church pamphlet in her pumpkin. Okay, seriously, who does this, who gives books to children for Halloween?

How stupid.

I watch as Kayla looks at the book with a deep frown as she walks back to me, her enthusiasm dissolving with each step. She probably doesn’t even recognize the book, she’s just seven and we’re not really from a religious family, we’re more spiritual. When she stops in front of me she looks up at me with a look of pure disappointment.

“She gave me a book,” she says, sticking her lower lip out, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah, I see that. Just stuff it in your pumpkin and let’s go to the next house.”

She nods, doing as I instructed by stuffing the book in the pumpkin, and then takes my hand as I lead her to the street, already done with all the houses on this side.

As soon as we’re almost halfway across however, so fast that I don’t even see it coming until it hits us—literally—a truck turns the corner, tires squeaking, and an aching pain abruptly erupts in my side, spreading throughout my whole body. I hear a loud screams, and realize that one of them is mine.

My feet are no longer touching the black pavement and I know I’m in the air. Pain shoots up my spine as I land hard on my back in the road. I gasp out, feeling as though the air had just been forced out of my lungs, making it impossible to breathe for a few split seconds, making my body and mind go into panic mode. Even when I’m able to gasp air back into my lungs I still find it hard to breathe somehow, I feel as though I’m not getting enough air, and so I start sucking in greedy amounts. As I fight for air all I can see is a blurry black, starless sky, my eyes wander to the body next to me to my left—my sister—my vision is still foggy, and my throbbing head feels as if it’s about to explode, so I'm not sure if she's conscious or not but my body instinctively rolls over to her, covering her up as if it was raining knifes, my instinct telling me to protect her even though the danger had already passed, speeding down the road.

I can faintly hear people talking and whispering even though I can’t make out what they’re saying, they’re all gathering around us like moths to a flame. I lick my lips and taste blood; I can feel the sticky on my face and neck and am sure that it’s mixed in with my hair as well.

I'm not sure how long we lay there but soon I hear something, a sound, a very annoying sound, faint in the distance. It gets louder with each second, and soon I can’t hear my head throbbing as if it had a pulse of its own anymore, it’s completely covered over by the loud, what I realize are sirens coming towards us. Doors slam shut and rushed words are spoken, soon I feel hands prying me away from Kayla, having difficulty due to my illogical reluctance to let go of her, and then they lift me onto a stretcher and strap me down, placing something over my mouth and soon it becomes easier to breathe as I concentrate on providing my lungs with oxygen.

My eyes become heavy and I wonder where they put Kayla. I want to ask but my voice won't work, my lips move soundlessly. Soon I feel them poke through my skin with something—a needle?—my eyes close, against my will, and I can no longer hear what's going on around me.

I'm surrounded in darkness and have no idea where I am when my eyes open. It feels as if it's only been a few seconds yet I'm sure it's been much, much longer. I feel very groggy, my body feels so numb. Did they sedate me, maybe?

Looking around at my surroundings I realize that I'm laying in a bed in a hospital room, I also realize that I’m alone in the room. Struggling, I manage to sit up in the bed, the white sheets falling around me, and I note how I have a lot of bruises and some cuts along my body. I feel a sharp pain in my head and wonder if I have a concussion. Letting my fingers run through my hair I wince with a hiss when I feel stitches in my head. I remember what happened . . . we got hit by a car . . . so then . . .

What about Kayla?

Her body is so small . . . so fragile . . . Is she . . . did she make it? Panic runs though me, making me shiver at the thought of her not being here any longer. Sure she annoys me, but . . . but she’s my sister! Of course I don’t want her to be gone! She can’t be gone.

I'm about to get up to see if I can find her room but a soft, smooth voice stops me.

“The night sky is so beautiful . . .”

I freeze. Someone is in the room with me . . . Had I been mistaken before? Had I somehow overlooked it? Slowly, very slowly, very hesitant, I look over and see a man with back facing me.

He's wearing a black cloak with the hood down and I can see the back of his short onyx hair—it looks really soft—and he's looking out the open window, with his elbows and forearms resting on the window sill. Even though he’s wearing a heavy cloak I can tell his figure is lean and slim, a perfect blend between feminine and masculine.

Slowly, he turns towards me and my breath gets caught in my throat. Oh my God, he's gorgeous! He has blue eyes with many different shades in them. It's dark around the edges then gets light then dark again around the iris. His bone structure looks perfect, high cheek bones, a straight nose, full pink lips, and most importantly, his Adam’s apple isn’t so huge and noticeable like some men. Though he's wearing no expression on his face and for some reason, his lips are set in a straight line and so when he turns around, I feel a shiver of fear take me over.

Why should I fear this man though? I've never met him before. So okay, there’s a stranger in my hospital room and I'm getting a bad feeling, maybe I should ring for the nurse or something. Because despite his looks, he doesn’t look like a doctor or even like he’s supposed to be here at all. Before I can ponder on this however, the corners of his lips twitch and he decides to choose this moment to start speaking.

“It's a full moon outside, would you like to see?” he asks sweetly.

I lick my lips that have become uncomfortably dry all of a sudden, adding moister to them. Perhaps they’re dry from me being nervous? It doesn’t surprise me; this boy is making me feel very, very nervous and uneasy. I feel as if I can't trust him, yet at the same time, I feel something inside of me tugging at me for a reason I can’t quite place.

Odd.

“Who are you?” I finally find my voice, though it's so soft and low that I wonder if he can hear me at all. I clear my throat and he watches me with evident curiosity and amusement. What's there to be curious and amused about though? Nothing about this situation is amusing or anything close to it. I'm in the hospital on Halloween because some drunken idiot probably got behind the wheel thinking, 'Oh I'm fine to drive' like the dumbass that he is. And I have no idea where my sister is or if she’s okay or . . .

“I'm here to take you away.”

I freeze; my thoughts and pondering interrupted.

Oh.

Shit.

He's a kidnapper! He's going to kidnap me!

I reach for the button for the nurse but before I can slam my finger down on it a pale hand comes out of nowhere and then my wrist is trapped in an iron grasp, stopping its movement and causing me to gasp in surprise and look up at the boy. No way could he have walked or even run over here so fast and as so . . . quietly. He didn’t make a sound at all, almost like he floated over her or teleported, or some other special ability that only superhero’s and villains on TV have!

“It's time to go, Faith.” I shiver. How does he know my name?! “I have already taken your sister, now it's your turn,” he says in nothing but a whisper, yet I can hear him perfectly.

Clearly.

And the expression on my face really doesn’t do justice to the shock and fear flowing through my entire body.

“You . . . you took my sister?!” I practically scream in his face. I hope someone out in the halls can hear me. I need help. This man’s crazy! But no one comes. I'm about to scream again but before I can even gather the air in my lungs I cough, feeling a tickle in the back of my throat, and my free hand shoots up to cover my mouth.

The boy sits on the bed edge of the bed next to me, still holding my wrist to make sure that I don't press the button for the nurse. He leans towards me, a little too close for comfort, and so I lean back, pressing against the metal bars at the head of the bed. His blue eyes lock with my dark brown eyes as my long, messy brown hair falls over my shoulders.

I feel naked under his gaze. Stripped bare. And he can see right through me.

“Your life has ended and so has your sisters. I'm here to take your soul away; your sister is already on the other side, resting in peace.” His voice stays aggravatingly calm and yet serious and firm.

“Are you . . . joking? Are you fucking serious? Do you honestly expect me to believe that load of bullshit?! And what a sick joke! My sister's dead?! How the fuck would you know unless you killed her, you psychopath?!”

My sudden outburst seems to amuse him even more and it causes a spark of fury to unleash itself inside of me. I want to jump at him, strangle him, and hit him, if only because I'm so damn frustrated right now. I want to hurt someone, only because I, myself, am hurting. Not just physically but emotionally now too.

What if Kayla really is dead?

What if the car crushed her tiny body beyond repair and she died?

I don't even want to think about all of the possibilities anymore. I just want to sleep and pretend that this is all nothing but a bad dream and I’ll wake up any second now.

And while I’m trying to convince myself that this isn’t real he looks over at the stand at the side of my bed, with a vase full of yellow flowers.

“I can prove to you that this is no joke.”

Before I can question him on that he reaches out, his pale hand lands on a leaf of the flower that’s growing out of the steam. I watch with interest, wondering if maybe I've gone crazy or if he's the one crazy. Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I hit my head harder than even I thought and now I’m delusional.

I watch as the boy closes his eyes, concentrating. What he's concentrating on is beyond me but I don't care. I just care about getting this lunatic out of my room!

Soon the leaves start to change color, going from a beautiful, healthy green to a sick grayish color, then darker, to black. The leaf withers away and looks dead. I frown though my eyes are widened with shock.

Oh no, I've lost my mind. This proves it, I'm going crazy. When I hit my head something must have happened to my brain to make me see these things. Like those people who see things that aren't really there. Oh my god, I'm going to end up in a mental institution! Surrounded by white walls and with my arms strapped to my body! And what if I get an itch on my arm?! How will I scratch it?! It’ll drive me crazy! Just like that time when I broke my arm and I got an itch under the cast, it was torture, pure and utter torture!

Finally, when the entire plant is dead, he opens his eyes and smiles a satisfied smile. Well of course, he must think that he just proved his point. Which I guess he kind of did—wait, no he didn't. All he proved was that I'm crazy or mental!

The boy puts his hand back in his lap and leans forward and purrs in my ear. “You see, Faith, I'm Death. And I can end your life too, just like that.” I gulp at the sure tone of his voice and the promise of death he brings with him. “But yours is already up, sadly, and we must be going now.”

At this I stiffen.

It's not real, it's not real, it’s not real!

“I'm not going to die,” I manage choke out, my whole body shaking.

I don't want to die, there's so much I haven't done yet, so much that I want to do. I'm only seventeen for God's sake! I haven't even graduated from High School yet and I'll be damned if all my hard work goes to waste! I didn't spend all those years of my life studying my ass off for tests just to have it all end before I can finish! No, I'm not a quitter; I always see things until the end. Always! He can’t take this from me. He can’t!

While I go through my inner panic attack the boy tilts his head at me, the smile still in place on his pale lips.

“Oh? But you're not the one in charge of that. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies. I do. I’m the God of Death, not you.”

“I can't die! I can't!” I shout, mostly to myself than to him.

“Don't you want to see your sister again?”

“I can't!” I sob and bury my face in my hands, getting the bandages wrapped around my right hand wet with my salty tears, my words directed at him rather than me this time. “There's so much I haven't done yet! So much I have to do! I haven't even had sex! Oh my God, I don't want to die a virgin!”

“Your reaction to all of this is amusing and very . . . different. Most people just cry and say how unfair this is, but then they give in, either that or try to run away screaming, if they can that is.”

“This is unfair!” I shout, lifting my face from my hands only to see the cocky bastard smirking at me.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, smile still there, pissing me off with each passing second. There is nothing for him to be smiling about! And I want to smack him for it!

“Stop smiling!” I finally snap.

He looks like he tries but gives up and just lets it die down to a smirk again.

“You're just amusing me. And I'm a very hard . . . creature to amuse. How about I give you an award, or rather, make you a deal?” he whispers, suddenly too close to me again. I can feel his breath on my lips and every cell in my being wants to push him away.

Instead I try to calm myself down and ask, “A deal? What kind of deal are we talking about?”

The smile that makes me want to strangle him comes back.

“I've never been a human before; this is what I've been, always. I can’t understand humans, but I find myself very curious on them, or rather, I find them . . . interesting. So full of life, something that I'm not. Literally. And you are very full of life; your soul is radiating it.”

My soul radiates life?

Interesting . . . not every day you hear that from a complete and total stranger.

And also, a lunatic who wants to kill you!

“Where are you getting at?” I ask, my voice high and jittery due to fear and nervousness.

“In exchange for letting you keep your life, you have to give yourself to me.” The smile is gone and his voice is serious, so serious that it scares me.

“Wha—what?!” I just about choke.

“Take it or leave it, darling.” Again, the smile returns. He leans closer to me so that his lips are just above mine. “Either die, or be mine and live. It’s very simple.”

“Wha . . . why? Why would you want me to be yours? And why would I want to be yours?!” I shout. So many emotions are flowing through me right now, I feel dizzy and sick.

I feel angry, confused, and sad and other things that I can’t even explain.

Not to mention the aching pain from my wounds.

“Either agree to be mine or I'm taking your soul. Answer now.” He's serious now, that and nothing else. Well, maybe impatient too.

“Now?” I squeak. “You're not even going to give me time to think?!”

He snorts. “What's there to think about? Do you want to live or die?”

“What kind of a stupid question is that?” I snap, angry again. I really need to get a handle on my emotions, but they're everywhere right now. It's impossible for me to grasp a hold of them.

“I'm assuming you want to live, so just hurry up and agree to be mine,” he says offhandedly, as if the decision isn't even that important.

“I. . .” I try to say yes . . . or no . . . I'm not sure. How does he expect me to just agree to something like that in just a few short minutes?

“Decide. Now.”

My voice is caught. I don't know, I don't know!

He sighs, and then stands up. “Fine, we'll leave now. I hope you've written a will.”

“Wait!” I shout. My eyes are wide, pleading. “I will! You win, I'll be yours! Just please . . . I don't want to die! I don't want to die!” I clutch onto his arm clad in black, fear overlapping all of the other emotions that are flowing through me like a desert storm.

He smiles, obviously pleased. “Deal.” Then leans down and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes, silently wondering what I had gotten myself into. But hey, at least I get to live right?

Soon the pressure on my forehead fades, and so does he, disappearing from my room.

God, I can’t help but hope he was an illusion.

Or something my mind just made up to torture me . . .

“Faith!”

I start, and then look around to find the owner of that voice but I can find no one.

“Faith sweetie, wake up, please, please wake up” the voice begs.

Where is it?

“What happened?!”

“She hit her head pretty hard and lost a lot of blood.”

“Oh my God!”

Mom?

Is that mom?

Where is she? I can't find her!

Where did everything go?!

Soon, I realize that my eyes are closed now. When did I close them? Forcing them open I find myself laying back in my bed, staring up at the white ceiling, my mom and doctor are in the room with me. I can hear a beeping sound in the background, reminding me that I'm still alive.

Was it all just a dream?

God, I hope so.

Wait, what am I saying? Of course it was a dream! I mean really, Death coming to visit me in the hospital, what kind of drugs did they put me on? It must have been some heavy shit for me to think up such crazy things, or to dream such twisted, demented things.

“What about Kayla? How is she?!” my mother asks with tears running down her face, smudging her make-up. She must not have expected to cry today.

I listen, more than just a little egger to hear what he has to say about my sister’s condition. I

The doctor frowns. Neither of them are looking at me, so they have no idea that I’m awake. My mother is holding my hand tightly and securely in hers but is turned away from me to question the doctor.

“I'm afraid your youngest daughter didn't make it . . .”

My heart skips and my mother sobs uncontrollably. Tears start to fall down my eyes too yet I make no sound. I don't want to direct attention to myself right now so I fight down the chokes and sobs that threaten to expose me. I close my eyes. My dream boy was right, she's dead. My little sister is really dead. Does that mean it wasn’t a dream, or maybe just a coincidence?

I hear a tap on the window, yet no one else seems to. When I look over at the window my breathing, my heart beat, the sounds in the background, everything stops as I see Death in the window. He winks at me and blows me a kiss, then fades into the darkness of the night.

It wasn't a dream, he had just proved that. So . . . I'm his now? I belong to him now? But as what, a servant? Does he want me to clean his room or something?

Just what is it that he expects me to do?