Won't Turn Out Right

Death came with a rose in his right hand and a pen in his left. He let me choose which fist I wanted. He tried to close his fists around the objects to shield them from my view- a game of 'pick which one and you can have it'. The objects stuck out on either sides of his closed fists.

I tried to run away, instead.

"Look, buddy, I don't want to die."

"But, you're ready. You must chose."

"No."

"You must."

"I can't."

"You have to, Charity. You have to."

"But... but I don't want to."

"You can't always get what you want."

Death asked me again to chose. I reached out, but at the last moment, turned and ran.

I was in such a hurry I forgot to grab my rose-colored glasses and my pearl dagger and pearl earrings. They were my mother's. They were her mother's. I never liked them, but she did, so I wore them for her.

He did not chase after me. He knew he wouldn't catch me. At least at that moment. I knew he would try again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and-

You can't always get what you want, kid. Bitch. Baby. Cupcake.

Good girl.

Elephants can't wear earrings....

Death is a man. He's a beautiful green-eyed blonde.

A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight.

All the violets died. The demons ate the daisies. All of them. They gobbled them all up in no time flat! Fun to watch but terrible horrible aftermath. They made Spike cry. He drowned in his tears.

I used to have a tiny crush on Death. He always reminded me of my first love. L'amour. La mer. Salty and big and scary. The ocean, I mean. Not love. Love isn't salty.... It's bittersweet and big and scary. That's what love is.

Love is looking someone right in their ugly eyes and telling them that they have spinach in their teeth. Being so dumb comes with a price, though. Love is stupid. Love is getting pushed into a pit of poison ivy without any clothes on, then getting out and to push that bastard in next. Then jumping right back in.

A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight.

And his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.

Jimmy tapped my face lightly on both sides.

"Goodness gracious, me-oh-my. Poor bumblebee, please don't die." I frowned at him.

"That rhymed." He smiled.

"Damn straight, my dear. Stay with me now. Silly girls shouldn't dream. No way, no how."

"That wasn't as good as the last one."

"This is all very sudden. I make it up as I go. So, please do shut up, you stupid. Fat. Ho." My frown fell deeper.

"You just called me a ho." He nodded, his smile turning upwards- the opposite of my frown. I shook my head in disbelief. "Ho?"

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"That didn't rhyme."

"I didn't try." I glared at him as his eyes glinted happily.

"So, you're done now?" He put a finger to his chin in thought.

"Yes, I suppose. That was my last one. I'll try again soon, but for now I am done." I glared harder.

"Good God you're annoying." He rolled his eyes.

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"Where's Matt?"

"Who's Matt?"

"...Shadows?"

"Oh, Shadows.... Well, I ate him, of course."

"How did he taste?"

"A little over-seasoned, but scrumptious none-the-less. Very meaty. Mmm."

"I wonder how good Synyster tastes."

"Oh, no, no, no. He doesn't taste very good at all. He's terribly stringy. Someone forgot to add the last ingrediant. He tastes terrible. Trust me."

"I don't trust you."

"Pity."

"Where's Matt?"

"He's watching TV."

"Why are you here?"

"Don't like it?"

"Not particularly."

"Too bad. You're stuck with me."

"Can I have a glass of water?" He slapped my face hard. I gasped in shock.

"Okay. Be right back." He bounded out of the room, and I breathed deeply. I brought my hand up to my cheek, rubbing it to soothe it. I was still in Matt's room. In Matt's bed. But, it was clean now. Someone had cleaned it up. Jimmy, perhaps?

Play nice. Play nice. Play nice.

Jimmy returned with a full glass of water. He shoved it into my hands, some of the cold liquid dripping onto my hands and the bed sheets. He propped his head onto his hands, staring at me with wide eyes. I chugged the tall glass of water, my head ached terribly. I put a chilly hand to my warm forehead, rubbing it slowly.

"You're ugly."

"So what?"

"Just saying."

"Whatever."

I gave him the empty glass, and he tossed it over his shoulder. It shattered on the ground. I layed down onto the pillow, burying my head deep down, trying to forget his presence.

"Charity?" I was alarmed by his sudden quiet, and serious tone. I ignored him, none-the-less. "Charity? You're not ugly. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." He sounded like a little boy, being scolded by his mother. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Do you forgive me?"

"No."

"Why not?" He sounded panicky. He grabbed my shoulders, lifting me up making the sheets fall down, exposing my naked chest. His eyes never left my own. "You have to live! You have to live, Charity! You can't let Shadows win! I can't let Johnny win!" He slapped me again, and I gasped once again. "You have to beat the shit out of Shadows without your hands. Do you understand?"

"No!" He sighed.

"Oh, thank God." He didn't seem to hear my answer. He pulled me into a hug, much to my horror, and I tried to struggle away. "I'm glad. I know you can do it."

"Let go! I have no idea what you're talking about. Crazy son of a bitch!"

"What's wrong now?" I looked at him in horror. His confused eyes burrowing into mine.

"What's wrong is you! Leave me alone!" My lungs suddenly felt heavy. I coughed and coughed. He looked at me, disgusted. I pulled the sheets up again to cover myself. He stood up, starting to pace, while I hacked up both lungs painfully. He hummed quietly, waiting for me to stop. When I did, he didn't end his pacing, he went quicker. "You're-" I coughed a bit. "You're making me dizzy."

"Oh. Do you still want some more water?"

"Yes."

"Be right back." He rushed out of the room, his long legs nearly tripping over a chair pushed far against the wall. I waited a couple minutes, more than a couple minutes, an hour, two hours, a couple hours.

He didn't come back.