Chapter 43: Death By Spicy Salsa

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~I won't cry for you. I won't crucify the things you do.

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I sat on the edge of the couch with my laptop in my lap and my eyes glued to the bedroom hallway.

Its definitely not alive anymore. It probably still in its little box that you made with the cross you thought it couldn’t get past but it did, I thought to myself as I nibbled on the edge of my nail. There’s no way its currently strangling your best friend and or planning on ways to murder you in your sleep….

I had never really thought about the cloak coming alive like that again. I figured after a while the ‘magic’ it possessed would just….disappear. I had seen a lot in the past years. I’d dealt with many of my fears—well, sort of dealt with them, and I saw some crazy clowns with fangs. But what I saw only hours before?

That was just scary.

Marcy had woken up about an hour after the “John” character left the house. She was practically in a coma on the couch and hadn’t woken up even after I slapped her across the face…softly of course. I sat on the couch with my head in my hands and waited for her to jolt awake as if freed from a nightmare.

“Hey,” I said.

Marcy blinked around the room. “Um—hey? What time is it? Aren’t you suppose to be at work?”

“Aren’t you suppose to be a school?” I countered. When Marcy’s face stayed plastered with confusion I tried to get to the core of the mystery of this impersonator that was in my house. “Do you remember anything that happened…maybe a guy that entered the house?”
Or a cloak….

Marcy laughed. “No? I fell asleep I guess.” She stretched her arms out and added, “Why are you back so early? Oh my, is that a man’s football jersey?”

“It’s David’s,” I said dryly. “Not a big—“

She squealed. “YES! I always knew I would see you on the front of a magazine, Faith! You—“

I cut her off. “No! We’re just—“

“Oh my gosh! Faith Star! You’re going to hit the exclusives once the press finds out! Not to mention our babies are going to be gorge’ to the max and maybe you could—“

“MARCY!”

She blinked. “What?”

After discussing with Marcy all about David’s girlfriend, the Wicked Ginger of the West, how I spilled water on my clothes and needed to borrow his, how I had managed to get pictures taken of me half naked by older men, and everything else that had happened within two long weeks, Marcy told me she had to get something from her room.

She left before I could tell her the fun part of my week. The stories revolved around Death.

That would be another story time.

I continued to believe the intruder was Death, except he had told me he was unable to enter the house when the cross was up on my door. There was also the feeling I got when I was around Death, one that was hard to explain. Whenever I had met with Death I could feel almost a magnetic pull towards him, where as the intruder who said his name was John had little to no pull towards me.

The question was, who was he then? Was he evil? Did he know Death? Why did the cloak form into the outline of man, ready to attack the intruder? Was the cloak trying to protect me?

I shivered.

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