I am Death

Thomas

Thomas.

The voice wouldn't stop saying.

Thomas.

Louder, and louder but never raising its voice to a shout.

Thomas.

Thomas O'Mally.

Thomas O'Mally.

Chanting, monotone and drilling to make sure that he never forgot it: Thomas O'Mally.

The darkness around him suddenly seemed real in a way he had never perceived it, and Death – Thomas – started to feel for the first time: fear. Real and pure fear. And then he was falling, in what direction he would never be certain, but he landed in a hospital chair.

It was far from Thomas' first time in a hospital, but this time, it all felt very real in a way he couldn't comprehend. The way he felt the arms of the chair, the way he could hear the heart monitor nearby, and most distinctively, the way he could really feel his body.

"Why are you here again?" A voice said.

Thomas' head snapped up. On the very white bed was Clara, and she looked tired more than anything, but she didn't seem to be in need to him at all.

"Is my heart about to stop or something?" she asked, not seeming worried in the slightest. "Because the doctors said that the stomach pumping went fine, and I'd be out of here by tomorrow."

"I...erm.." For the first time ever, Death – Thomas! – had no idea why he was with her.

"You sound different," Clara told him. "Less mystic and more, like, alive."

"Yeah, well..." Thomas said. "I...I'm not exactly sure why I'm here...so..."

"Are you always this unconfident?"

"Look, this is new to me, and I don't know why or how I'm here – "

"Don't you have some headquarters or something? A boss?"

"What?" Thomas said. "No."

"Are you here to tell me when I'm gonna die or something, 'cos if so can you just get it over – "

"I don't know!" for the first time in his existence, Thomas was angry, seething; he didn't know, and another first: he was afraid. "I don't know why I'm here, I don't know why I'm suddenly alive and I sure as hell – "

"Sir," the small but firm voice of who could only be a nurse, cut in. "You need to lower your voice, and calm down, or I will have to call security."

He must have looked like an idiot, as he stared at her with his mouth slightly parted and his eyes wide as saucers. No one, as in no one, had ever seen him apart from the unfortunate; now his fears were nearly confirmed as the nurse rolled her eyes at him and walked away.

"I think," he mumbled to Clara. "I might be human. T- Thomas O'Mally, to be exact."

Clara looked unimpressed. "Thomas O'Mally, really? You couldn't have picked something interesting, you chose Thomas."

"Well – " His face began to flush.

"And, isn't it obvious that you aren't an all powerful grim reaper anymore? Another thing – "

That was it. Thomas got up and clamped his hand down over her mouth, silencing her.

"Will you let me talk now?" Clara rolled her eyes, which Thomas took as a yes.

"I don't know why I'm here, or why I'm suddenly not whatever-the-word-is-for-what-I-was, okay? I'm confused, and I've been put here with you and I have a few guesses why; so please, save your breath, because I can't answer any of your questions."

Slowly, Thomas removed his hand.

"What happened with you?" he asked her "You weren't like this at all the last two times I saw you, what's changed?"

"You don't really understand depression at all, do you?" she said, and her face darkened. "I'd have thought you'd know that I'm not like that all of the damn time, you can't go through every second of every day trying to kill yourself, there's always something in between those moments."

Thomas had nothing to say to that.

Well, that was interesting...no? Probably not, but Thomas is only going to get more confused (not used to emotions, remember?).

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