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I twirl Janice around in my hand slowly, enjoying the way the moonlight catches the silver polished blade. It really is a thing of beauty. The tree I am sitting up against is cold against my back. Moisture from the ground is slowly starting to soak through my jeans and I curse the rainy, September weather.

I do not really care, though. Taking a walk through the woods has always helped me relax. Especially at night. Everything looks so much better at night. Everything is so much more peaceful. Tonight, I find myself unable to sleep. Every time I dare shut my eyes, images of last night come rushing through my head. Each blow, each kick, is it as though I can almost feel them again.

I am upset. It is so unlike me to be like this. I am strong. I have never let such pitiful things prevent me from sleeping. I am worried everything is finally catching up to me.

Honestly, it probably is. I am about as emotionally stable as an Ikea table.

I grab my beer and take a big gulp.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and move on," I mutter to myself.

"Are you talking to yourself now?" Death comes out of the trees and his stormy black eyes connect with mine. Figures he would find me.

"I guess not. Otherwise no one would be answering me, would they?" I say, but it comes out a little slurry. I may or may not be tipsy right now.

I watch him lean on a tree, a good 15 meters away from me. I do not mind the distance he seems to purposefully keep between us. He brings his hood down to reveal his face. His irresistible hair looks unkempt, as though he has been running his hands through them a lot. I find my eyes traveling up and down his body on their own accord. I have found him attractive before, but tonight, he just looks so, alluring? Are his muscles more defined?

"Why are you feeling sorry for yourself?" he asks in that smooth, deep voice of his. My senses tingle a bit.

"None of your business. Why are you here?"

He eyes the dagger in my hand, "I see that you got my message. Like I said, we need to talk."

I take another sip of my beer and hiccup. He sends me a disapproving glare.

"You got attacked just last night and almost died. Now you're here alone in the middle of the woods, at night, and drunk. Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?" he snaps, "Do you have any idea what's lurking out there?"

Oh, believe me. I know. And out of all of them, he is probably the one that scares me most, but I am not about to admit that to him.

"I don't believe in death. No offense." I take another sip before standing up and dusting off my pants. "Look, what is it you want to talk about? You asked me to stop killing, I'm not killing right now am I? You asked for my help with a target and I told you I couldn't do anything for you. As far as I'm concerned, we're done." I hiccup again.

He lets out a bitter laugh, looking at the ground and shaking his head lightly. When he brings his eyes back to mine, I know I am in big trouble. He pounces on me and pins me to the tree with his body until I am stuck between him and the trunk.

"Sweetheart, we are far from done," he says with a sinister smile that turns my blood cold.

I have every intention of pushing him away, putting up a fight as I should. I want to drive Janice through his chest again. I want to be strong. Or at least let my sassy side take over like it usually does in these times. Instead, I freeze. I. Fucking. Freeze.

And if only it was just out a fear. With his body pressed against mine, my entire being is tingling in a sort of anticipation. A beautiful smell of earth and pine invades my nose and I find myself wanting to get closer to him, while at the same time I feel like running away.

What is wrong with me?

"I know you can feel it too," he whispers, bringing his eyes down to my lips hungrily. He seems to be in a trance and for a moment neither one of us dares to move. His hands are digging into my waist, but then he starts to move up my body gently. I can feel the heat of them through the leather of my jacket all the way up to the back my head. When one of his fingers touches my neck, I flinch. The trance is broken. His eyes search mine, but I close them tightly.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

"You're shaking," he states, "Tell me why. Are you cold?"

God, no. If anything, I am bursting into flames right now.

I shake my head no.

"Look at me."

When I do, his face softens a bit but he does not let go.

"Why is it always like this with you? What do you want from me?" I say through my chattering teeth. "Is it this?" I shove Janice in his hand and angle the pointy end towards my heart, "Then do it!"I grit.

"Enough!" he roars. He grabs the blade from me and I am suddenly lifted off my feet. Death pulls me across his shoulder and starts walking angrily.

"What the fuck?" I yell.

I start kicking at him, but he immobilises my legs with both arms until I am unable to move.

"I'm taking you to your house, because you're clearly about to freeze and then we will talk. Wether you want to or not," he sneers.

"Fine! I'll talk to you, just let me down. I can walk."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I kinda of like the view," he says flatly with no trace of humour in his voice.

"Did you just make a sex joke?" I ask in disbelief.

"It wasn't a joke," he puts me down and keeps pulling me to my house by the arm.

He lets go of me once we are inside and I welcome the warmth of my house. I had not realized how cold I actually was until now.

"Go get changed first, you're pants are soaking wet."

"Was that another sex joke?" I grimace.

He looks at me with a raised brow and I can see the ghost of a smile appear on his lips. Ok, I am, without a shadow of a doubt, tipsy.

"No, Emma. Your pants are actually wet. And I'm unfortunately not the one to blame for that."

I choose to ignore the last part and saunter up the stairs. While getting dressed, I give myself a semblance on a pep talk. Don't let him get to you. Only say enough to get him off your back. Don't think of that night where he almost drowned you.

I opt for a black long-sleeved t-shirt and black jeans and walk back down. Death is waiting for me, propped against the wall opposite the stair case with his arms crossed. His cloak is off, revealing the tight black t-shirt and black jeans that he is wearing.

Great. We match.

I try not to look at him for too long. Especially not at the curve of muscles that peak through the tight material of his shirt.

"Ok, let's talk." I pull out a chair from the dining table and sit down, crossing my arms in front of me.

"You can start by that night at the cinema. Then, I want to know what happened to make you run away at Jabtastic. After that, you tell me exactly what you remember of last night."

"No."

"No?"

"What? Am I supposed to just tell you everything now? What are we, best friends?" Who does he think he is? Not only do I have no desire to revisit any of these events, but if I did, he would be the very last person I would ever want to share these with.

He glares at me, "How am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me?"

"That's the thing, though. I don't want you to help me. In fact, I want the opposite."

He steps away from the wall and leans on the table, "You do know that I don't have to ask, right? I could just compel you to tell me."

That is when I realize something important. Through all of this, something tells me Death wants me to give in to his demands. He does not just want these things, he wants me to give them to him. Anytime he has asked something of me, he has used different ways of convincing me, going as far as to bribe me or threaten me, but never taking it by force.

As sadistic as that sounds, I know I am right. If he did not, then he would already have taken everything he wanted by force. He could have just used me as his pawn. He could have killed me.

I call his bluff.

"Then do it. But whatever you take, I won't give willingly."

Anger crosses his face and turns it into a scowl. He continues to stare me down, but when he clenches his jaw and lifts himself from the table in resolve, I think I have won.

"How about this," he starts, "You answer one of my questions and then I answer one of yours," he crosses his arms and looks down at me.

Hmmm. Interesting.

"You've got yourself a deal, Death," I smirk, "I'll even let you ask first."

"The night at the cinema. I know about the illusion. What did you see?" he asks, taking his place back against the wall.

"A sort of fire monster attacked me. I was still in the theatre room. Just as he was about to close in on me, the sprinklers started and Sophie woke me up." It gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.

"Has it ever happened before?"

"My turn now," I interrupt, "Why can't others see your face but I can?"

"I don't know," he says flatly.

"Alright. Well maybe the next question you ask I won't know either." I lean back in my chair, watching him through narrowed eyes.

He runs a hand through his hair, "Fine. Normally, no one can see my face unless they know my real name or they are about to die. It's a sort of protective mechanism. I have a small idea why you can see me without these things, but I'm not sure yet."

"Fair enough," I am satisfied with the answer. It certainly explains why he was so surprised to know I could see his face the first time we met.

"Have you ever had any hallucinations like this before?"

"Not while sober," I had experimented with drugs before. Only a little bit. "Why can't you kill me?"

"Because it would kill me."

"What?"

"Why did you run away from Jabtastic when you looked into Amber's eyes? What did you see there?"

"She was possessed," the words escape my mouth before I can stop them.

He cocks his head to the side, watching me carefully. He takes a step forward and leans down so our eyes are levelled.

"So what? You've seen worse things before, I'm sure."

"I... it was my-"

"It was your what, Emma?"

"My parents. They made me do things when they..." I shake my head, "Why would it kill you?"

"Tell me what happened with your parents," he says more forcefully this time.

I shake my head again. Snap out of it, Emma. Stop thinking about it.

"Please leave," I tell him.

He looks as though he is about to say something else, but instead he takes a few steps back. He knows this has gone too far.

"Alright," he says seemingly against his will, "But we aren't done with this discussion." he grabs his cloak and with one last look, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.