Death Is My BFFLAD (Book Two Original Series)

Chapter 3: Off The Hook

<--- vote!! So it's Ian Somerhalders 33rd birthday...... 

~Louder than sirens, louder than bells, sweeter than Heaven and hotter than Hell. ~I ran towards the tower, where the church bell chimmed. I hope that they would clear my mind. ~As I move...my...feet towards your body I can hear...this beat and it fills my heart and it gets louder and louder!~ It swallows me whole until there's nothing left of my soul.

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I thought I was off the hook.

I had marched out of the psychologist center with no frown between my eyebrows, no depressing thoughts about missing my family or my lack of socializing, or even the idea that someone was monitoring my every move and loved popping out of nowhere to scare the crap out of me…

Ok, maybe that last one still stuck like a sticker with superglue on the back.

But seriously, what could have be worse than having the cause of my problems the person that was sitting across from in therapy, the person I was going to spill the beans too about everything in my life? And hell, Death didn’t have to reveal himself. He could have just sat there with a blank expression and yes, I never would have thought it was him. And that scared me, it scared me I didn’t know him well enough to know who he was.

What kind of person was he really?

 And would he of let me spill the rest of my emotions out and then use them against me, or did he already know all of my emotions and was he already planning on using them against me?

I called up a taxi I had waiting for my call and I waited in front of the therapy building and dug my cold hands deeper into my pockets. Out of boredom I began to count the number of cars passing by the residential street. It reminded me of when I was little, when I use to go in the front yard with my Dad after a scolding hot summer day, and we would count the number of yellow cars on the highway as we soaked our feet in a mini pool.

I missed my family. I knew I had to face my Mother again, my Father. I had to hold my head up high and push away my thoughts of the flashback, the thoughts of the deal my Mother made with Death. I didn’t know enough about dream nor did I know if it really happened so why blame on my Mother? Why blame myself?

Thunder crackled and then boomed above me and I took a step back against the buildings wall in almost an instinctual, fearful manner. But as the bolt of light actually struck it dawned on me that I was becoming afraid of everything. Even the little things like getting stuck in an awkward conversation with someone I didn’t know or not getting enough sleep.

I took a step onto the curb and tore my gaze up to the dark clouds above where Mother Nature threatened to pulverize me with her volts of anger. I stood with my feet planted firmly on the ground and dared the lightening to strike.

My phone vibrated in the pocket of my sweatpants.

I tore my gaze away from the sky and took the device out of my pocket.

“Well, this sucks,” I said the phone.

David left a voicemail.

Why were my hands beginning to clam up when I saw this notification? Well, my Boss doesn’t just leave voicemails for anyone and everything that has two legs. He texts me sometimes when he me to get him a drink and I’m stamping his letters, he’ll email me or bang on the window outside the vacant office when he wants to talk to me.

But he doesn’t call.

Ever.

I watched the steam come out of my mouth and dance along the crisp, frigid air as I let out all the air in my lungs and welcomed the butterflies that started to flutter inside my stomach. I punched in my voicemail password and then put the phone to my ear.