Page 52 of Haunted By the Shadow of Death

And then I could feel the darkness pulsing to life within me. It wanted this. It liked this.

“I can’t.” I pushed at his chest until he dropped his arms.

“Why? You want this.” His voice was ragged.

“You know why.” Or mostly.

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not.” It was as much as I could explain, because I couldn’t tell him that I was corrupted, that there was something unclean in me, this darkness growing that was too much to bear. I’d rather have him think I was overreacting, which, given the circumstances, no one in their right mind would say. The reminder of how it throbbed at the connection with him pushed all desire from me.

He walked off into the woods. He didn’t come back right away either, and the minutes piled up into hours. If he hadn’t left the bike, I’d wonder if he was coming back at all.

I followed the sounds to the nearest stream, cleaned myself off, and then started a fire. I didn’t care if the smoke signaled my location to others. The way I was feeling right now, I’d welcome someone coming to find me.

I didn’t care anymore. The darkness felt like it was growing inside me, trying to encroach further.

I sat as close to the fire as I could, letting the heat seep into my bones. I focused only on good memories, on playing games with Charlie, talking with Widow Herbert, going to the park with my mother when I was little. I pulled up every good thought until the cold feeling was pushed away, more manageable. Until I felt more of myself again.

I looked up into the darkening sky.

“Widow Herbert?” I waited a few seconds and repeated her name.

I put my head in my hands, closing my eyes.

A chill filled the air and the darkness inside me thrummed to life again, trying to expand.

When I lifted my head, Death was standing there, looking at me.

It wasn’t a coincidence that Jaysa and Widow Herbert had disappeared as Death had decided she had a use for me. It was her fault. I could feel it in my bones, in the coldness that was seeping into my core. This darkness in me was driving them away, or she was blocking them somehow.

“You got rid of them.” I didn’t soften the accusation. I was beyond caring right now.

“We don’t need them.”

We. She was calling us a we now.

“I need them.” It helped somehow, especially Widow Herbert’s comforting presence. Sometimes I felt like she was all I had to cling to these days when everything seemed to be falling apart. It felt like life had been black and white before Death Day, and now I was living a kaleidoscope that wouldn’t stop shifting and changing.

“You don’t,” Death said.

I wanted to argue with her, but what was the point? She would do as she wanted. She could kill in a second with no remorse. She could steal every loved one I had left. She was the power behind Death Day, and that could never be forgotten.

She walked closer. “I need you, and you need me. No one else matters.”

I didn’t respond, staring into the fire and trying to ignore her.

She came closer. “Why didn’t you let us have him? I liked that.”

“You can feel what I feel?” I asked, stunned.

“I liked it.” Her body seemed like it was vibrating. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to sour my stomach.

The thought of her there, with us in some way, was nauseating. Somehow a part of our connection. Nothing was sacred anymore. I couldn’t have a moment to myself or a moment with him. It was as if she owned a part of me I couldn’t lose.

“You’ll never have him,” I said, not caring what the repercussions were.

“We shall see,” she replied. She smiled, as if making me a promise, before disappearing.

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