Residence

Chapter 3 The Final Awakening

Chapter 3 The Final Awakening

Her silken hair was all fanned out above her head as she lay on the pillow. Her lips were turned up into a smile. Her breathing became so heavy as her warm body curled up in her blankets welcoming the comfort of rest. I knew she was really asleep and she needed it. I put my palm on her head.

"I love you," I whispered.

She trembled, pulling the covers up over her shoulder in response to my touch, bringing her the chill of a lost soul. I didn't want to trouble her. My feet shuffled across her bedroom to the armchair opposite of her. There, I could watch her chest rise and fall. Her breath shown in the air with a cloud that puffed out of her mouth. It really was cold. I thought. The way her body rolled beneath the covers, trying to find just the right position told the story of a worn day. There was an energy filling the room that was depressing and uncomfortable. Soon a heavy darkness was present, ushering in sadness and grief. It was ice cold and lacked even an ounce of remorse. The large shadow of darkness extended upward, head and shoulders over me. It had broad shoulders and black wings that spread out far and wide. The entitywas faceless bearing a resemblance to nothing and carrying the demeanor of finality. Even in my ghostly state, I shuddered at its presence.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"You know who I am Mike," the darkness replied.

I thought for a moment. Perhaps it was Christine's dead husband. Maybe he had turned into something else on the other side and he was coming to claim her.

"Why haven't you been watching over her?" I asked.

"Watching over her isn't my job."

"Maybe not, but I've been here all along watching her grieve and try to make things work. Her physical body is so tired and stressed. Why couldn't you just stay and watch over her? Why am I here doing this?"

"She doesn't love you Mike, and she never will."

My heart fell at the harsh words it spoke. I knew she never would be able to love me the way I loved her, yet I still longed for her touch. If it were at all possible for me to be physical again, I would have loved to caress her skin. I was being tortured, slowly decaying in my own mind. I had finally found a woman that encompassed everything that Beverly wasn't. Christine would have appreciated me. I could have taken of her if only given a real chance.

"You shouldn't have taken your own life," it said.

"Who are you?" I asked again.

This time the shadow moved closer to her sleeping body as the sound of her heartbeat echoed in the room. Beads of sweat were permeating from her brow although her breath was still visible in the chilled air.

"She's sick you know? She's so sick with nobody to look after her. It's a shame," it said.

"I'm going to ask you again once and for all. Who are you?"

The air grew stale as if nothing and everything were occurring at the same time. The darkness loomed over us like the dark cloud of an angry storm, laughing at me.

"I am the angel of death."

It suddenly occurred to me why it was there. Christine was ill beyond repair and death wanted her. I couldn't let it take her this way. Not with a boy already grieving the loss of his own father.

"You can't have her," I announced.

"Feeling brave are we? What makes you think that I answer to you?"

"I...I don't, but surely there's something I can do. You've already taken the boy's father," I said.

"Is that so? What makes you the authority on these things? Just because you took your own life doesn't mean you get to decide who lives and dies."