Drip Drop Teardrop

“Avery-”

“No! I know what you are!” Tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I know,” she sobbed, trying to catch her breath. “And you’re not getting her. I’m not ready yet!”

He moved so fast all she saw was a blur of darkness, like a streak of black paint across a grey canvas. Suddenly she was in his arms and he was hugging her, hushing her cries, whispering soothing nonsense words in her ear. Avery pushed against him, terrified of this dark creature.

“No!” She pushed and he reluctantly let her go. “I know what you are.”

He frowned at her, rubbing his cheek in thought, his fingers brushing the groove of the scar. “I’m not here for your aunt, Avery.”

Relief immediately whooshed through her and she sagged against the back of the sofa.

“Not yet,” he amended.

Avery glared at him. “Why are you stalking me? Is it me? Am I dying?”

He smiled softly, drawing her attention out from the scar to his face. “No.”

She trembled, edging away from him. “Then what does Death want with me?”

His eyes seemed to spark to life and he shook his head. “You always amaze me.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know me.”

“Of course I do. I know you better than anyone.”

Why did he look so sad at her rejection? Didn’t he know how scared she was? “Why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here. I’m here for you.” He reached out a large elegant hand for her and she stumbled back. He grimaced. “Please don’t be frightened of me. I would never hurt you.”

“B-b-but you’re d-death,” she stuttered moving further back until she hit the wall. “Why else would you be here for me?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, seeming far too human for her liking. “Can we sit? Will you listen while I explain?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He tilted his head, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips. “Let’s try not to be melodramatic, Avery. You always have a choice.”

Watching him carefully, Avery nodded, feeling as if she was watching this play out from a distance; it was so surreal. Yet, she knew this was no nightmare. It was happening. “Explain.”

“Do you want to sit?”

“Not particularly.”

“Fine,” he huffed, actually seeming affronted by her manners. He folded his large body into her aunt’s armchair and Avery almost smiled at how ridiculous he looked against the floral pattern of the fabric covering. “My name is Brennus.”

“And you’re Death?” Avery asked warily, trying to remember if she had accidentally taken some hallucinogens in the last 24 hours.

He shrugged. “Depends on what you mean by Death?”

Avery rolled her eyes at his blasé tone. “Death. As in Angel of. Grim Reaper. Black hooded cloak. Big scythe.”

Brennus chuckled and sank back into the chair, appearing completely relaxed. “Well that’s not right at all. For a start… there isn’t only one Death.”

The breath whooshed out of her body. “You mean you’re not… alone?”

Seeming amused by the idea he shook his head slowly. “You really think one guy can take care of all the deaths in this world?”