Creepypasta Collection Book 1

Death Gave Me a Choice

Death came to me that night as I sat numbly in a puddle of my own desperate blood and tears. When I saw him, a tall entity clothed in a robe so black it reached the depths of darkness I felt inside my heart.

I'd been upset. Not about one thing in particular, but multiple things.

I'd made so many mistakes, that trying to put myself back together had become harder than reassembling a broken egg shell.

A year earlier, I'd lost the most important person in my life. The only girl I truly loved: Penny. I could only blame myself. I spent the past year blaming myself for betraying her, betraying her trust.

She'd found a new guy, a better guy than I am. One that brought her flowers, took her out on fancy dates, was loyal to her. All that reminded me of how many chances I used to do all those things for her.

6 months earlier, the guilt and pain got to me, tore at my soul, and to numb the pain I took sleeping pills with alcohol every night, dreading the moment I'd wake up to another sunny, lonely day.

4 months earlier, I lost my job and my scholarship because the depression, and substance abuse kept me rooted to the spot. I didn't want to face a world where I'd have to watch everyone else swim, as I'm slowly sinking.

3 months earlier I lost my friends and family as well; I'd become distant and emotionless. I turned down invites, didn't show up for holiday get-togethers, blew up on anyone who told me I needed help.

I was in chaos and I could only blame myself.

1 month earlier, I'd bought a small rectangular case of razors. Adding self-abuse to the substance abuse. I'd feel the smallest release when I felt the sharp sting, and saw the deep red flow down my wrist.

That night, I called my ex-girlfriend slightly tipsy, but truthful all the same. I told her I loved her, I begged for another chance. I cried harder than I'd cried in months just at the sound of hearing her voice.

She told me one thing and one thing only, "I don't love you anymore, Calvin. I never will."

She hung up the phone immediately after, and all I could do was stare blankly at the corner of the room. As everything hit me at once, it hit me harder than a car going full speed.

I didn't hesitate. I swallowed the rest of my sleeping pills, gulped down the remaining vodka straight from the bottle, and I used those razors to cut deeper than I'd ever cut.

So here I sat, hopeless and alone. But I wasn't alone. I'd look down at my bloody wrists for mere seconds, and when I looked back up, he was there.

A normal person would have been hysterical and afraid, but I wasn't normal anymore. I wasn't surprised he was there. No, I welcomed it.

"Calvin," he spoke in the most baritone voice I'd ever heard, lower than the voice overs on every movie preview, and he said that one word with a disapproving sigh.

The way he said it made me feel like a kid again, as if I'd done something and lied about it. But I wasn't lying now. The proof was in the mess that was myself at the moment.

I sobbed shakily, "I-I'm sorry," I said. For whatever reason, I felt like I had to apologize, so I did.

"You've spent a long time being sorry, Calvin. But not once did you say sorry to yourself."

A crease formed in between my eyebrows as I mulled over what he'd just said. It came to me slowly. He wanted me to see that my only enemy was myself.

"Do you give all of the souls you come across helpful advice? I thought you were Death, not a psychologist," I raised an eyebrow at him, still unnerved by the fact that I was looking into an endless black hold where his face should be.