The Day Death Died

The Day Death Died - Chapter 7

I nodded, watching as they wheeled Richard Dawson's body down the hallway, past the nurses and other patients who barely glanced up. The sight of his lifeless form under that thin white sheet stirred something deep within me—an uncomfortable awareness of just how fragile everything truly was. They turned the corner, and just like that, Richard Dawson was gone.

"That's terrible," Mom muttered from behind me, her voice choked with emotion.

"Hmm?" I turned to face her, confused for a moment by the sorrow etched across her face.

"Such a young boy," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh. Yeah," I replied, still processing what had just happened. Richard hadn't just been young; he'd been meant for more—he was supposed to become a reaper, like me. Yet somehow, seeing him disappear like that, I was reminded of how close I'd come to following the same path.

Mom pulled me into a tight embrace, her body trembling as she wept against my shoulder. "That could have been you," she cried, her voice cracking with the weight of her fear.

"But it wasn't," I said softly, hugging her back. "I'm fine, Mom. Nothing's wrong with me. I'm not even in pain." My words came out steady, but inside, a part of me was still unraveling, unsure of how to make sense of everything.

She sniffed and pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know, I know," she said, trying to regain her composure. "I just couldn't imagine anything happening to you. The thought of losing you..."

I smiled up at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I'll be okay. I promise. Let's get home."

She nodded, her eyes still red but filled with a reluctant acceptance. We walked out of the hospital together, hand-in-hand, the cold wind biting at our faces as we stepped outside. Dad was already waiting in front of the entrance, the SUV idling at the curb. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, shivering as the early signs of winter settled in.

I slid into the backseat, immediately sinking into the warmth of the heated leather seats. It was a stark contrast to the icy gusts outside, and I felt myself relax, closing my eyes as the exhaustion of the past few days caught up with me.

This has all been a really shitty dream. That's all. I told myself, trying to convince my racing mind. A drug-induced nightmare...

"Afraid not, Maddy dear."

My eyes snapped open, and I looked to the seat next to me. Sure enough, Edwin sat there, grinning smugly. Everything around us had shifted into that awful greyness again, the familiar coldness creeping in.

"Oh no." I groaned.

"Oh yes," he replied, his voice dripping with amusement.

I rubbed my temples, willing this strange new reality to disappear. "I'm sleeping."

"You are," he agreed. "But this isn't a dream, and none of this is drug-induced. It's all very real."

I shot him a sharp look. "Are you reading my thoughts?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Edwin, that's a major violation of my privacy!" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

He rolled his eyes at me, his smirk never faltering. "Fine. I won't read your thoughts."

"Promise."

"I promise," he said with exaggerated sincerity.

I held out my pinky, narrowing my eyes at him. "Pinky promise."

He stared at my outstretched finger for a moment before blinking in disbelief. "You're serious?"