The Day Death Died

The Day Death Died - Chapter 4

The operating room was blindingly bright. Cold, sterile lights hung overhead, illuminating the doctors and nurses bustling around me. A series of beeps echoed in the background, steady and rhythmic, as though the machines were more aware of my situation than I was. There was a strange calmness in the air, as though I was watching everything from a distance, even though I could feel the hard table beneath me.

"Maddison," a voice called, cutting through the haze. I turned my head, blinking at the figure standing over me in scrubs, their face obscured by a mask.

"We're going to give you something to help you sleep while we remove the metal from your stomach, okay?"

I nodded, my throat too dry to respond verbally. The pain in my midsection had dulled slightly thanks to the drugs they had pumped into me, but I could still feel the pressure of the metal shard embedded in my flesh. Every breath was an effort, every second stretched out.

"Just count backward from 100," the nurse said gently. "You'll be asleep before you reach 95."

"100... 99... 98..."

The world blurred at the edges, and an icy coldness spread through my limbs. The pain began to drift away, swallowed by the darkness that seemed to rise up and wrap around me. My body grew heavy, and within seconds, I was completely gone.

"Maddison."

The voice was faint at first, as though coming from somewhere deep within my subconscious.

"Maddison."

I groaned, frustrated. "Can't I have surgery in peace?"

"Nope," came the cool, unbothered reply. "Get up."

I opened my eyes reluctantly, the darkness around me fading into a murky grey. It was as though I was floating in a space between life and death—weightless, but anchored by something I couldn't quite place. My feet touched the ground, but it felt unreal, like I was walking on air.

Death stood a few feet away, his tall, gaunt figure leaning casually against the corner of what now resembled a hallway. His black suit was immaculate, as always, his skin pale and cold like marble. His dark eyes gleamed with that same eerie detachment, the kind of expressionless gaze that made me feel like I was little more than a nuisance.

"What now?" I asked, exasperated. "Can't this wait until after the surgery?"

"No," he replied, motioning for me to follow him. "You're getting a crash course in reaping. You might as well learn now, since you've made such a mess of things."

I stared at him for a moment, incredulous. "You want me to learn now? While I'm unconscious on an operating table?"

He smirked, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Why not now? Time doesn't work the way you think it does here. You've already delayed the inevitable once. You should be grateful I'm giving you a chance to learn."

I let out a long sigh but followed him nonetheless. As we walked down the hallway, I noticed how everything seemed faded, almost dreamlike. The walls stretched on endlessly, shadowy figures moving in and out of focus in the distance, like memories slipping through my fingers.

We stopped in front of an elevator. The metal doors gleamed in the dim light, casting strange reflections.

"Where are we going?" I asked as Death pressed the button for the fourth floor.

"Cancer wing," he replied curtly.

I swallowed. "Oh."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open silently. Inside, the air was heavier, thick with an invisible weight. As we stepped out, the hallway was crowded with doctors and nurses rushing in and out of rooms. But they didn't see us. They passed right through us, their movements frantic, yet completely unaware of our presence.