Death is My Frenemy Rewritten (Book 3 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 6: Blood Burned

ROSES ARE BLACK

DEATH FANS ARE BLUE

KAT ROCKS IS BACK

AND SO ARE YOU!

The humiliating things I do to make you ungrateful mortals giggle...

Make sure to add this story to your library, and don't forget to vote and leave so much feedback that my heart explodes with cupcake love!!! 

Kissing him felt like approaching the breakthrough of either a cure or a poison to all this chaos.

And I couldn't decide which.

His heart had felt so alive beneath my palm. His lips soft, his hands gentle at my waist, so unlike Death, so unlike Death. And yet...

That surge of pain the moment we had kissed, the rush of adrenaline in my veins had been to fight and not flee.

But then that cold, blank vacancy had slid over his face. The image of it stained my eyes even as I squeezed them harder to shut it out. Shut it all out. As soon as I had thought there was a sliver of a chance Death was in there–– that my kiss had somehow awakened his dying conscious through Alexandru––that he saw me and he remembered me, vacancy had slammed over his features, and he was a blank slate.

Just like that, I saw Alexandru as something else. Not as Death, not as past Death, but an empty imitation of what once was. It made me question if any of this was real. If I'd kissed and talked to something not even connected to Death at all. Was it possible? The fearsome thought disturbed the already wavering foundation of my sanity.

Suddenly I didn't feel on track at all. I felt on the verge of losing control, I felt so damn alone.

I wiped away a stray tear with an aggressive swipe of my forearm and rolled onto my side, facing the closed door of my room.

There was no time to throw a pity party.

Caito had given me three days. I'd already lost one. Wasted one.

Uncomfortable again on this foreign bed, I rolled over again, I looked up at the ceiling of the Cruscellio's villa, I squeezed Romeo's backpack to my chest. This bag was the only anchor I had to home, the only concrete thing that truly separated me from this hellish realm.

I couldn't even imagine what Death was feeling right now, if he even felt anything at all. I hadn't allowed myself to think about it much and I wouldn't start now. I had to be strong. I had to stay focused. It was the only way I would bring him back.

I stared at the small flame of the oil lamp with that determined thought, my eyes drifting closed...

Someone was watching me.

Burned it to the ground.

I jolted upwards from the bed with gasp, my breath coming in and out in harsh rasps.

The room was plunged almost entirely in darkness. Though, I could still make out the lines of furniture in the Cruscellio's guest room.

With no recollection of having fallen asleep, I slowly swung my legs over the bed, my eyes sliding cautiously over every inch of the room.

Coldness washed down my spine, like a finger trailing downwards.

My bedroom door was ajar.

I stayed there for a long moment, staring into the dark hallway, frozen in fear.

I knew I'd closed that door. The longer I looked, the larger the gap seemed to become. Beckoning me to seek what awaited on the other side.

"Love it here," I muttered sarcastically.