Spoiler
Peter's ten year old brother, James' life was in the balance a few months ago when Peter wrecked his car. Peter, guilt-ridden, is followed by a red haired mystery woman, Mary, who turns out to have been the cause of the accident. Another mysterious figure named Grim appears to Mary and reveals that she still has to kill Peter... What is Mary? How are Peter and James? Find out.
I started this story a long time ago. I've decided to finish it now that I'm sifting through the piles of stories I have lying everywhere.
Didn't read Part One?
Mary leaned against a sporty yellow car of the girl that had been mooning over Peter and studied the high schoolers pouring out of the red bricked building reeking of academics. She had made a big mistake. She had realized it somewhere between the blur of sleepless nights. She had gotten attached, not just to Peter but to the whole damn family, and now she was running out of time...
When James had taken a turn for the worst, she had been there, breathing life into him as the nurses scrambled around the bed, unaware of her presence. She had stayed Peter's hand a few times. The razor blade incident, the panicked search for his father's gun, the buying of rope, the brush up with a drug dealer. She had even made Peter's mother call a taxi instead of driving home from a bar.
She wasn't supposed to do this, but she could.
Now James was recovering at home. Peter was gaining health too at a much slower pace. She had even caught the older boy smiling the other day.
Smiling as she found Peter in the middle of the crowd, Mary moved away from the car and sauntered towards his new car as the owner got into the yellow one. The beauty of rich parents, she guessed.
He nodded to his posse in farewell and grimaced as he turned away.
She slid into the passenger seat and rolled her eyes. The afternoon sun reflected off his shiny black hair that was quickly becoming unkempt. She jumped as he turned the key and made the roof of his car lower.
It was late March. A nice breeze ruffled her hair. The perfect conditions for riding with the top down.
The radio began to blare as he pulled out of the parking lot. She turned it down without thinking and froze when he glanced in her direction.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he said nothing. He watched the speedometer rise above the speed limit but didn't touch the brake. When she did nothing, he unbuckled his seat belt.
Mary watched the needle as well. Eighty, eighty-five, ninety- She slipped from her seat and reached over the console and his right leg, stretching to reach the brake. As her fingers pressed it just enough to make a slight difference, Peter let up on the gas, and she realized she had been set up.
“Becoming a bit overprotective, don't you think?” he asked and laughed. “I knew something was off when all my suicide attempts failed.” He spoke easily, but his eyes darkened at the thought of those darker days.
“Lucky,” she replied, taken in by the expressions flickering across his face.
“Some would say so...” He took his eyes from the road to see if she had appeared and glanced back to the road, disappointed. “I like to think I have a conflicted angel on my side.” He looked in her direction again and sighed, “I know you're there.”
She materialized and smiled softly.
“I knew it was miraculous when mom left her little car on that bad side of town.” He pulled over onto the shoulder and studied her. “What are you?” he asked, unrepulsed.
She took hope in that. “I... don't know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you know?”
She cleared her throat. “I'm a bringer of death. We exist on your plane, but we're aware of other planes.”
His brow wrinkled. “You've been doing the opposite of bringing death lately.”
She nodded, realizing his green eyes held no anger. “That's breaking the rules.”
He looked blindly across the road. “Why?”
A mist of black flashed around the car.
Mary's throat constricted. “Peter...”
He turned his head. “Hmm?”
Grim's sallow face appeared in her window, teeth uncovered in a gruesome smile, eyes wild with the chase.
Mary screamed. She jumped over to Peter, covering him with her body, and whispered into his ear as the car rolled onto the road in front of a eighteen-wheeler, “I love you.”
. . .
Mary watched silently as Peter's cold body was uncovered for his mother to identify. She watched his mother nod stonily and walk out of the morgue without shedding a tear. She listened to the conversation over the phone, the empty tone of her voice, the disbelieving one of Peter's father. She watched James shake his head in horror and run away from his mother's dead eyes. She held him in his bed, giving him comfort though he didn't know of her presence. She sang a lullaby as he fell into a disturbed sleep and cried.
She watched the funeral from a hill overlooking his grave. She watched his mother burst out into fake tears and moved down to James to give him a sympathetic touch on the shoulder. She listened to the whispers of the crowd. “...Much to young...” “...Never should have been given that second car...” She pressed a kiss to James' cheek, trying to ease his mind. She watched them all abandon Peter. She wouldn't. She knelt at his gravestone and cried some more.
She felt the sun on the back of her head. There was a nice breeze. It was the end of March, perfect conditions for a ride with the top down.
A hand fell on her shoulder.
“Grim,” she managed, “go to hell. This is unnatural.” She felt someone squat beside her and brush her hair out of her face.
“It's not so bad, Mary.”
She looked up and stared in confusion.
There was Peter with his unkempt hair and bright green eyes, dressed shining white clothes.
“I mean, it was just an accident. Right?” His eyes met hers, and he rose, offering his hand. “Want to come?”
“Where?” she whispered.
He smiled. “Come on. You'll like it.” He helped her up and waved his hand to the angel praying over his grave.
The angel's hands opened, revealing an expanse of bright whiteness.
Peter looked at Mary again and motioned toward the portal. “Ladies first.”
