Page 43 of Death is My BFF

And once again, I stood in the room of mirrors.

Death was no longer here. Stifling a sob, I stared wide-eyed at my petrified reflection. A chill ripped through me as more fragments of my lost memory collided with my conscious and stained my vision.

I’d lived my life with blinders, unable to see anything else but the false safety of what I thought my life would be. Now the lost parts of my memory were back, and reality cracked its heartless whip across my face. My life was an out-of-control roller coaster without a lap bar and it was only going downhill from here.

I remembered the day I struck the deal with the boy with mismatched green eyes. But he wasn’t a boy. He was a trick, a façade the real monster wore that fateful day. He was Death. And he wasreal.

God help me, he was real.

The Grim Reaper had spared my life because of his cryptic interest in my soul. Which only begged the question: What would happen to me if I didn’t go with him?

“Take a wild guess,” Death hissed down the back of my neck,

“cupcake.”

There was a loud rushing in my ears, the roar of a storm.

Consciousness was gradual at first with the uncertainty of awakening from a deep sleep. Voices entered my ears like distant radio signals.

My eyes flipped open.

Stunned, my reality slowly sank in. I was now standing by the picnic tables in front of the food vendors, where I’d been earlier when everything had frozen around me. My attention slid to a man who had his back to me. He wore a worn-out baseball cap and held out a cell phone with a glittery purple case. Tapping the screen, he snapped a flash-on selfie with four giggling girls.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” the one girl gushed. She happened to be wearing a T-shirt with David’s face on it, which explained how she was able to see through his poor camouflage of sunglasses and a hat. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

I cautiously rounded the crowded table.

“David?”

He looked up from signing the fan’s T-shirt, and his eyebrows scrunched together for a second. “Back already? Was the line too long for fried Oreos?”

A lump wedged in my throat.

This could not be happening. I’d been in the fun house. I knew I’d been in the fun house. It’d been too real. The boy. The demonic clown. Death. When I reached back and touched the back of my skull, I winced. It was slightly tender from where I fell.

For the umpteenth time, I contemplated whether or not I was losing my freaking mind. At this point, it was a hard pill to swallow.

I need to get out of here. I snatched my cell phone off the table and—

A hand touched my arm.

I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Easy,” David said, showing his palms. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Shaking, I started to walk away. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, wait!” With Maddox the Penguin tucked under his arm, David caught up with me and blocked my way. “What do you mean, you have to go? I thought we were having a good time.”

“It’s a personal issue,” I said, desperately trying to calm myself.

He took a cautious step closer. “Want me to drive you home?”

“I’ll walk. I live right around the corner.”

David’s posture fell a little in defeat, and his lips pressed tight.

He handed me Maddox.

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