"I'll tell you a secret, but you'll have to do something in return, ok?" He whispered.
I bobbed my head up and down, my eyes wide with excitement, not aware of what was to happen.
He leaned in, building up the moment, then said, "I was Death, but you are now." Suddenly, the ground shook, and swallowed him. Everyone I was to execute appeared, their wraiths haunting me. Kids and adults coming closer, suffocating me. A stench all too familiar hung in the air, clinging onto their clothes. But all I could hear was their voices, screeching the word "Why?"
I woke up sweating. It was just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare. I get one every night, the next one always worse. Nightmares serve as a punishment inflicted by me. They're what I get for taking lives. They're what I deserve.
I don't actually want to kill people though. But when someone is born, there needs to be space for him/her, so a life is taken. The most impure person is the first to go.
I don't fully understand the process, but all I know is that it's my doing that gets them killed. I see a flash, the moment before their demise, and boom, they have an obituary the next day. I don't actually do the deed, well maybe I do, but it's troubling to see people die. I'm always the first to know. I usually see their death months before. How it's done, when it'll happen, and why.
I know I'm different because I, myself, can't die. I can't get hurt, either. I've tried. I slit my wrists, to find no blood. I stood in front of a car, but left unbruised (however, the driver, who was about to expire, had a heart attack on the spot). And, the worst of all, I've lived for 63 years but haven't aged.
In those 63 years, I went to sorta isolated public places. I surround myself with people to keep my sanity, watching them from a distance. I watch people with their friends, smiling. I watch couples, slowly falling in love. And I watch people outgrow each other. As crazy as it sounds, I tell myself that one day, I'll feel that. I'll experience love and I'll grow out of it, because I want to feel normal. But I know that that won't happen.
YOU ARE READING
Kiss of Death
Teen FictionIt's not easy, you know? Living? Or should I even call it that? It's that I see every death happen, every tear shed, and every dream lost. I'm not even in control of it. I just do it. And I keep thinking that if I ignore it, it'll go away. But it d...