Cheating Death chapter one

Pact

It took me a moment before the letter came to me, so clearly engraved into my mind. I’d written and rewritten it so many times- talking of taking my life and then scribbling the words out- a change of plans. But it was done and I knew it, quite aware of my lifeless body crumpling to the floor before me. The revolver slips from my fragile hand and goes off as it hits the ground. To put it simple; I was dead.

I stare, watching blood pool and my mother barge into the room only to drop the laundry, scream and run to the phone on the nightstand. I can’t take my eyes off my own reflection of body. I’m blue and my long brown hair is tangled about my head under the white sheet. The metallic drawer slides shut, my eyes stopping on the name tag. Sara Fullur. That’s my name? What- when? Pounding enters my ears and I pull at the drawer’s handle. I gasp, taken aback.

I could have sworn the handle passed through my hand. I try again and intently glare as it does, passing through my white, bony fingers. I shudder, squeeze my eyes shut and rub vigorously at the goose bumps on my arms. “This isn’t real. It’s a joke- a dream.”

“Mind if I help?” I froze, eyes widening and turn to look into jade orbs. I can’t help but gawk. A smirk graces his clean-shaven face and he chuckles, adams-apple bobbing slightly. “Mind if I help?” he repeated.

“Uh-Sure.” My breath is taken from me and I step back. Opening the drawer he brushes long, black hair behind an ear and looks up into my eyes.

“You sure you want to do this, Sara?” he asked, fingers poised on the cloth over the girl’s face.

“Yes,” I choke. Stepping forward I place my hand over his and we pull it back in unison only for my eyes to widen. It’s me- but not. I don’t get it. Her coal black hair isn’t tangled but lays smoothly on the metal. I lean forward, unaware of her moving hand. It clenches around my throat and her eyes shoot open. I scream, clawing at her and she lets go. I tumble to the floor, skidding away from her- only her hand is already laying flat on the shelf. “What was that?”

“What was what?” The boy’s question echoed in my mind as he took steady steps towards me. He didn’t see it.

“What’s wrong with me?” I sob, hands fisting in my hair. I can feel the tears ready to burst from me. I look up, vision swimming as he takes a hand from my hair and places it in his.

“You’re dead, Sara.” Electricity shoot through me and I ripped my hand from his.

“I’m what?”

“You’re dead. Don’t you remember?” He sighed heavily, fumbling in his jacket. “You forgot. Already? This is a sad excuse.” He shook his head, pulling a crumpled paper from his pocket and holding it out to me. My brow nits. “Here, take it. You wrote it. It’s yours.” I didn’t take it and he defiantly didn’t want to keep it, evident as he let it slip from his fingers and fall to the smooth tile. My eyes scan it as he returns to the open drawer.

“I’m sorry,” I recite. “I couldn’t handle it any longer? This is my good-bye? Wait- I wrote this?”

“Yeah, and if we don’t get going you’ll miss your appointment to hell.” He said it casually, as if the word 'hell' didn’t already set my body on fire.

“Hell?”

His smooth talk turned into grating fingers on a chalkboard. “Yeah, hell! Big fiery pit full of screaming, sinful people. That’s the place.” He picked the dead body up and put it over his shoulder. “Come on. I’m on schedule,” he called over his shoulder. I was already behind him, pulling at his shirt. He stopped, turning to me with a glare. “What?”

“I don’t want to go to hell. Please, is there any way-“

“No-“

“I’ll do anything you-“

“Shut-“

“Give me a job!” I don’t know why I said it but it seemed... right in a matter of speaking and it got his attention.

His eyes bore into mine. “Anything I give you?” Nod. “Anything at all.” Nod. “Okay. One more question; can I use your body?” He indicated the lifeless form on his back and I start to interrupt to tell him it’s not mine but I stop myself and nod. “Then I guess we have a deal.” He held out his hand and I took it.

I regret to this very day having took that hand, clammy and cold. I regret having made a pact with the devil’s son.

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