Love.

Strong. Comforting. Possessing. Painful.

A delusion.

Hate.

Bitter. Controlling. Exciting. Spiteful.

An illusion.

-

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17: game

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It’s been a few days since Death left me. I’ve pretty much holed myself up in my room, though it’s not like I have anywhere else to go. What with my friends still away, where am I to go?

A part of me—a huge fucking part of me—wants to sink into my depression and stay there. My heart has been broken—by Death, no less—and I really want to sit around my room and mourn more than anything else. Well, almost more than anything else. What I want to do above all is to protect my mother from Death. I feel angry with Death, he gave her her life back and now he’s just taking it away, the bastard. But more than that, I can’t stop the painful throb in my chest whenever I think back to our last encounter.

When I do think about it, I want to cry.

But I have to be strong, for mom’s sake.

Her life depends on me. I’m the only one who knows she’s going to die. I have to be strong and protect her now, but I have no idea what I’m protecting her from.

“Beware sharp objects . . .”

Is that his way of hinting something? Well obviously, he wants to make this more interesting I suppose. What a sick bastard. Why did I even think I loved him? I can’t. No, no, no. I can’t think about that, not anymore.

My mother needs me.

-

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As soon as mom leaves the house I get to work.

I stand by the window and watch as she pulls out of the driveway and disappears from sight. I turn around and look around the front room, picking up anything that’s sharp. Needles, things she uses for sewing . . . I bunch them up in my hands and go into the kitchen. I dump the items on the counter and go to fetch a garbage bag. I dump everything in there and then go to get some small boxes.

Going over to the counter I open the drawers and take out the knives and forks, dropping them in the boxes and then putting the lid on, throwing them in the garbage bag.

My movements are hurried, frantic.

I need to get it all out.

I can’t take chances.

I tie up the garbage bag but before I can pick it up I hear a chuckle and stop. Frozen.

“You look very pathetic right now, just to let you know.”

Gritting my teeth I turn to see Death leaning against the table with his arms crossed. His scythe is propped up beside him and he’s looking at me with a wicked glint in his eyes.

He looks so amused.

Fucker.

“What do you want,” I practically growl.

He tilts his head. “Well, rumor had it you had your heart broken recently. I just wanted to see if I could help you feel better.”

My stomach twists. I know exactly what he wants.

“You came here to fuck?” I deadpan.

Why do I feel tingly? My body’s desires and my mind and heart’s desires are completely different. It’s confusing and I hate it.

“Well, I hear that you’re a bit of a sex addict,” he says in a hush tone.

I’m seriously considering taking one of the knives out and stabbing him with it.

He steps away from the table and closer to me. It’s then that I see something sitting on the table behind him and I inwardly smirk.

I’ll show him.

I let go of the bag and walk up to him.

He stops, confused when I wrap my arms around him.

“I knew Jake wouldn’t leave me wanting,” I whisper in his ear.

He chuckles softly and grabs my waist.

“You’re truly pathetic you know.”

I shove him hard so that his back hits the table. Then, I waste no time in pressing myself against him, my hand gripping his hair hard. He doesn’t look hurt, of course, though he looks a little excited.

“Shut up and fuck me,” I growl as I nip at his jawline. “No, I have a better idea.”

I press my hand against his chest and push. He allows himself to be put on the table, his smirk firmly in place. I climb up too, my legs on either side of his waist as I straddle him. He closes his eyes and groans when I rock my hips against his. Yes, despite the fact that his heart is a block of ice, Death is rather responsive during sex.

Grinning down at him, I place my hands on either side of his head and lean forward to press my lips against his. He hates it when I kiss him when I’m supposed to be riding him. So I had taken habit to doing it just to annoy him, it gives me some sort of kick.

Stretching my arms out, I feel something cold and solid against my fingertips.

“I’m not going to let you,” I whisper against his lips.

“Hmm?”

I grab the item and sit up on him, pressing the knife in my hands against his throat.

“You’re not taking my mother! You’re not!”

He full out laughs at this.

“You honestly think you’re in control of her life?”

“Yes.”

I’ll take control.

I’ll take control from Death himself.

He grabs my wrists and presses the blade against his own throat.

No blood.

“And just what are you planning to do with that knife, little girl?” he purrs.

I inhale sharply and realize that my arms are trembling.

Perfect.

I can’t lose my nerve now.

But I can feel my inner addict screaming at me. Telling me to just shut up, throw the knife away and fuck him like there’s no tomorrow. To delve into the pleasure that sex brings, to let it cloud my mind and judgment and not think about what would happen after, or how I’d feel after.

It’s so tempting.

Why does he have to be such a fucking prick?

Why can’t I have my happily ever after like all those princesses?

Simple.

Because that’s not reality.

My life isn’t a fairy tale.

And if it is, it’s one fucked up and morbid fairy tale.

Straddling Death’s waist and wanting to have sex with my father and sister’s murderer.

“It doesn’t matter what you say, your mother’s soul will soon be mine.”

“No it’s not!”

“Oh?”

“You’re not in control over her life.”

“I’m in control of everyone’s life.” He grips my wrist harder and I wince. He then sits up, keeping the blade pressed against his throat and not seeming to mind that it is. I can feel his breath on his face and my own breathing starts to quicken. “Even your life.”

“Shut up,” I hiss.

“You can’t stop it.”

“Yes I can!” I scream and try to move my hand to slit his throat. Sick of my struggles, Death shoves me off the table and to the floor. I shriek and groan when a pain shoots up my spine, my tailbone screaming in pain as I roll over to the side, the knife no longer in my hand.

I hear the knife fall to the floor and look up at Death with hate.

“Oh? Let’s make this a game then.”

A game?

“Your mother’s soul is the prize.”

“You sick—”

“Fucker? Bastard? Sexy beast? I know.”

“I HATE YOU!”

“And yet you still can’t help but love me,” he grins.

I glare at him as he disappears.

This has become a game to him?

Fine.

I’ll be sure to win.

And the game has begun. Faith VS Death. Who will win her mother’s soul? ;D lol!

Ha ha, your reviews greatly amused me. Everyone’s like “HA HA FAITH!” or “Death is a jerk!” Awesome. Only three more chapters to go! –GASP- I wanted this done before June but…I guess not everything goes according to plan. Maybe before July? XD

I put up a poll for you guys to check out. ;D

Thanks for the reviews! You guys are awesome: Blackrain7557, someone0is0me1, FallenAngelFromTheSky, Kit-Kat Punk-lover, TheVampireDoll, Izzey, hellp911x711, Nemo Forevermore, akaCHEEKS, Ck Ash, dawn9800, Lily Marie, xiomara209, groundhog591, unfortunatesoul418, Stahlut, Roman C Lee, Signs, cheergurl12, LOLcat, Rinkika, weirdo-lover, teardrop456, futile flutter, coldestkiss77

Help911x711: well, I’m glad I was able to surprise you then. ;3 Funny thing is, after I posted the chapter I realized ‘…didn’t I use that for LABYRINTH too?’ the line/quote and I realized, I did kind of, Max didn’t say it but…and I wondered if I should have taken it out but was like ‘eh, it’s there now so whatever’. Lol!

Ck Ash: glad I made your night. ;D Surprisingly, no one threw those daggers at me. :) You’re probably going to love chapter 19. ;D I know I’ll love writing it! XD Don’t worry, I love the jerk too. He’s one of muh babies. lol!

Lily Marie: Mmm, fluff would be good to build it up more but not too much seeing as this is a dark story. XD Thanks for your input.

xiomara209: aww, thank you! –heart-

Roman C Lee: IMOU-CHAN! –glomp- lol! Totally didn’t even know you were still reading this. XD What goes on in Death’s head….that is the question. Lol. Everyone wants to know that and sometimes I even wonder ‘what are you thinkin’, yo?!’ and he just waves me away…jackass. Lol!

Signs: Thank youuuu!!! X3

LOLcat: lol. I already have some new scenes picked out for when I start revising/rewriting or whatever, for this. It’ll be so much better! And yeah, I’ll make the chapters a bit longer in the next one.

weirdo-lover: you’ll just have to wait and see. –sadistic glee- lol

futile flutter: yeah, for Faith, there was a storm a . . . what is the word, brewing or something? I don’t know. But she had been keeping it all in, trying to ignore it. Whenever something’s too painful or hard to face, sometimes people will ignore it and pretend it’s not there. :p that’s what she was doing. Faith does deserve a happy ending, but if everyone who deserved one got one than life just might be fair! –GASP-We can’t have that! lol! Any who, thanks for the review! ;D