Death Becomes You

The next month passed by miserably slow. My father didn’t come home on my sixteenth birthday. Chandler refused to leave his bedroom. I had to walk to school alone. At the back of my mind I kept all the questions and blame locked away. It would save until I saw him again, and I was positive that the man in the trench coat would hold to his word. My birthday, exactly one month since my mother passed, left me with doubts, fears, questions, and sadness, but I knew he would show.

I doubted myself. Maybe I did make up some beautiful being to help my brain deal with the loss of friends and family, to understand death. I should have done more for Chandler when Annie died instead of putting it off on the man. He needed me, right?

The pain of fear wrenched my heart. My family fell apart. Dad started drinking. Most nights that’s where he was, Riley’s Bar. That’s why he didn’t come home for my birthday; he got so drunk he couldn’t even remember he had kids. Chandler got worse; not eating or sleeping and loosing way to much weight. My brother’s skin sank into his bones, dark circles formed around his eyes, and he rarely talked to anyone. The calmness that overwhelmed me when my mother died left me in a state of utter despair when I realized this wasn’t a bad dream.

All of the questions swirling around my thoughts alluded to one person. The man in the trench coat filled my brain even though I tried to push him away. Shoving my silent ravings down only made them force their way back into the forefront of my imagination. I didn’t want to think of the lightning in his eyes the night he took my mother, the strange curiosity he left behind with Chandler’s life, or his graceful movements toward the strange woman in the street. The important question the one I let fill my soul: when is he going to appear again?

Sadness echoed through my entire being. I shook off the bad feelings when Evelyn Harris died in front of me. Something kept Annie’s eyes always just behind my own eyelids. Chandler’s grief overwhelmed me when he heard the news of her death. That same grief buried me alive now that our mother was gone too. I wanted to reach out to him, to pull him out of the hole that tried to consume him, but his eyes…those once vibrant deep green eyes that matched my own were dull and dead. They filled themselves with misery and hatred. Even the trench coat couldn’t solve the sadness that lurked in every corner of Chandler and echoed through me.

School went on begrudgingly. Time almost stood still at one point during Math, but thank God that was my last class of the day. When the bell signaled the day was over, I walked to my usual spot outside of the school. Chandler couldn’t be found there, even though he always met me, always walked with me. I felt my brother’s hatred for me grow.

Walking home seemed to take even longer than school did. A fifteen minute walk with autumn temperatures should’ve been nice, but it only fueled the sadness and frustration in my heart. Why couldn’t death be easier?

My heart pounded first, when I saw the man in the trench coat standing on my porch. The breeze caught the bottom of his coat causing it to float around him. My heart wildly beating interrupted the silence between us until I was at the bottom of the three steps connected to the porch. Sadness seemed to echo from me onto his features. I tried to smile, to do anything but wonder why he stood alone at my house when he swore he would not visit me.

“If we’re going to keep meeting like this, I think I should know your name,” I stated, taking a small step onto the first stair.

He did not move as his answer poured from his being. “Azrael.”

I ventured another step toward him. “I’m Lane.”

Azrael nodded his head. Today’s body brought him a small button nose offset by almond shaped eyes and thin lips. The lightning in his gray eyes never changed. It somehow comforted me while those eyes bore into mine.

“This is not a visit, Lane.” His voice was medium pitched, and slightly squeaky this time, not fearsome like the first time he spoke.

“What is it then?” I was a foot from him, staring up into the raging storm. Sadness still coated his features.

“I am here to collect the pain I caused.” He turned his back to me and entered my locked house without turning the door handle. I quickly pulled the keys from my bag and shoved the door open. Azrael stood by Chandler’s door. “His fate should not have changed that day. He was supposed to come with me then, and he will come with me now.”

He opened Chandler’s bedroom door rather than walking through it like he did with the front door. I ran to the doorframe, but he stopped. Azrael shook his head. “No, Lane. You do not what to see him like this.”

I pushed past the man in the trench coat. My mind wished I hadn’t as soon as I did. The bottle of sleeping pills lay awkwardly beside his bed. His sleeves were pushed up a little, showing more skin that I’d seen in months. The scars on his wrists chilled me to the bone. Our father’s favorite whiskey sat on his bedside table. I crumpled to the floor.

Azrael kneeled down beside me. His hand pressed against my shoulder, trying to regain my attention. “Lane Davenport, your brother should have died when you were fourteen years old,” his lips moved around these words, unlike the words he spoke before. I wondered how he knew my name, but didn’t venture to ask. “This is why he stopped talking to you. Why he started acting out. That is the reason your brother has taken his own life.”

I shook my head violently. “No!” I couldn’t say anything else. “No!”

“I am here to deliver him. He will be alright, I promise, but you cannot blame yourself.” My head kept shaking as he spoke. It is my fault my brother took his own life. If I hadn’t spoken in that car. “This is my fault. I should not have let the shock frighten me, but you shouldn’t be able to see me so clearly. You shouldn’t notice me at all.”

Tears fell from my eyes as I forced myself to look into his. This doesn’t make sense. “Why can’t other people see you?” I sniffled, and held on to my belief. I destroyed my brother. Azrael just took him from me.

“I don’t know,” he whispered before holding his hand out to something just beside Chandler’s bed. His stubby fingers wrapped around whatever he offered his hand to, and I watched the spot carefully. “Say goodbye, Lane,” Azrael whispered as the hand holding my shoulder released its grip.

I walked passed his clasped fingers to my brother’s body. His forehead was riddled with sweat. I wiped some of it off before I kissed his cold, clammy forehead and whispered, “No.” It grew louder until it became a sobbing scream. “NO!”

I turned to look at Azrael, but there was no one left in the room except me. My knees crumbled beneath me. Realization dawned on me; I am alone, and I will be forever.