Chapter 1 - Amri

As a general rule, every species on Earth is afraid of death – in one way or another. Wild animals fight back against predators, tearing the skin from their bones, to make sure they get away from what could kill them. Humans get a burst of adrenaline, allowing them to break their own bodies, lift cars, and survive in the most extreme of circumstances just so they too can escape death.

But what about those who aren't afraid? Those who lean over the edge of the cliff just to get a better view. Those who think about the blood spilling from their veins and instead of being frozen from fear, they smile in relief.

That's me. That's which one I am. I'm not afraid of death. Instead, I welcome it. As I jump from this bridge into freezing cold, deep, black water – I am not afraid. I smile. I welcome the release that death will bring me. Release from all the pain and suffering that comes with a beating heart.

I'm no stranger to death, and I know he will welcome me with open arms. He's collected many souls from my family, one after the other, until instead of greeting him as an enemy, I greet him like an old friend.

The water is so cold it feels hot, searing my skin an d

melting my bones until I can't feel my body anymore. Not once does my mind question itself. I know this is what I was supposed to do.

Every night, I dream of him – the Reaper. He never says anything, he just stares underneath that long, black hood of his. Usually, men staring makes me uncomfortable - probably a lingering trauma response to the way my father would hover over me when I was a child, but the Reaper's stare doesn't feel uncomfortable the way other men's do. His stare feels comforting, like he's staring straight into my dark and broken soul and instead of being weary, he likes it.

I've been having these dreams for months now. They started suddenly, and they've never gone away. Timothy, my ex-fiancé, called me crazy. After that insult wore off, he started calling me a whore for dreaming of another man. Then, it was sick that I was dreaming of something, of someone, so evil and feeling nothing but contentment.

He left me soon after that. He kicked me out onto the street and threw all my belongings out after me. He said he couldn't handle someone so lost in her own head that he felt like he didn't belong. We stopped being intimate even before the dreams started. I couldn't stand to keep faking enjoyment for mediocre sex at best, and a two-minute quickie at worst.

After I got kicked out, things seemed to get worse. I stopped being able to sleep half the time, so I couldn't even feel that weightless bliss that the dream state gives a person. Work sucks. I'm a waitress at a hole-in-the-wall diner here in town, Debbie's, and Debbie is a bitch who takes our tips. I fell deeper and deeper into a hole until this morning, I watched the sunrise after another sleepless night and decided that would be my last sunrise.

I don't know what I expected to happen when I jumped into the river. Maybe I expected to change my mind or fight the sensation of my burning lungs, but I don't.

I. Am. Not. Afraid.

This feels right.

Every second my lungs scream for air is a victory I celebrate by letting my body drift even further down into the water. I feel my body becoming numb, losing sensation in first my fingers and toes, then my arms and legs, until the only thing I feel is my chest constricting. My body fights against my mind, but no matter how weak my mind is, my body is weaker – halfway from the cold and halfway from the hunger I've been struggling with ever since Timothy left me.

I feel my mind become hazy, half delirious from the lack of oxygen and the weight of the water pressing against me. I drift further and further down until I can no longer see the sunlight breaking through the shallow above me. My eyes drift closed, and a sort of peace washes over me. I open my mouth, letting water fill my lungs instead of the fresh air my body desperately craves. I feel my body seize up, trying to save itself from my friend, Death, but I don't let it win. Instead, as I hear a loud splash sound from above me, I finally let my soul free.

"Come on, Amri. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. You have so much life left."

I hear a male voice speaking above me, unfamiliar, but somehow soothing. I don't know if I'm alive or dead. I don't feel anything besides my body lying on the grass beneath me. The man sounds worried, frantic even, but it doesn't make any sense. Why would a complete stranger care if I lived or died? No one has before, not even Timothy. That much is obvious from the way he left me to fend for myself after being so co-dependent on him for seven years.

"Wake up! I refuse. I refuse to take you. It's not your time."

His voice is getting stronger now, louder. He sounds angry at me. But why? I don't know him. I fight the urge to return to the surface. Just let me die. Please. There's nothing for me here.

A hand shoving its way into my chest brings me back to the land of the living. I roll over, expelling water from my lungs and coughing until my chest doesn't only hurt from the hit, but the forcefulness of my coughs.

"What the hell?" My voice sounds broken and raspy from the intake of the harsh water that drips from my chin.

"What the hell is right! What the hell were you thinking, Amri?"

Relief sounds in his voice as I feel him wrap his arm around my back and help me sit up. I try to look at him, to take in the face of the man who dared interrupt my journey to the afterlife, but I can't see his face. My eyes are still cloudy and probably bloodshot to hell and back based on the black around the edges of my vision.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I've called an ambulance; they should be here in a few minutes." He cups my face, turning my head from side to side as if inspecting the damage I'd done to myself .

"I don't need an ambulance." I shove him away from

me and rub my eyes, trying to clear my spotty vision. It doesn't work.

"The fuck you don't. Stay here until they arrive. Don't move and for God's sake, do not try to get back up on that bridge. I'm not supposed to interfere."

"Again, who the fuck are you?" I ask, aggravation giving my voice an edge that sounds even worse with it being so raspy. I sound like I've been screaming my whole life.

"It doesn't matter. Just…God, Amri, stay here."

I hear him sigh and get up, his shoes shuffling on the ground beneath him. I look up, still trying to get a better view of my unwanted savior, but again I have no luck. The most I can make out is the general shape of a man, tall and broad in his shoulders. I can't see his face as it is covered by what looks like the hood of a long jacket. Again, familiar, but something isn't clicking. His form turns and begins to retreat into the woods. I hear his footsteps crunch over the fallen leaves and branches that died when the season turned.

Wait!" I yell and curse myself when a wave of pain hits my throat. I follow after him as best as I can. My clothes are soaking wet and have begun to solidify into ice which makes movement harder than it should be. My throat screams every time I take in a breath of oxygen, ironic considering that not too long ago it was begging for air instead of resenting it. My shoes crunch over the same leaves and branches as his did, but my footsteps don't sound as loud in my ears.

"Come back you son of a bitch." I murmur to myself.

I walk for what feels like hours, but I know it only feels that way because of how exhausted my body is. I never found the mysterious stranger who seemed to care for me more than anyone else ever has. Eventually, my sight comes back. It takes a little while, and I end up stumbling over more tree stumps and holes than I care to admit, but even with my sight, I can't seem to find anything that would point me in the direction of the man.

I start my journey back to the river, the cold seeping into my bones finally too much to bear. When the river graces my eyes, I hear my name being called by multiple voices. I don't know how I didn't hear it before, because all the different voices merging together make for a rather loud symphony. I head in the direction of the voices, knowing that the longer I drag this on, the harder it's going to be and considering I don't know how much longer I can stand on my own two feet, I'd rather not have this last all night.

When I break through the trees, red and blue lights assault my newly acquired vision causing me to throw my hand up in front of my face. I hear people rushing toward me moments before I flinch from the touch of someone throwing a blanket over my shoulders. The warmth immediately settles into my chilled body, and I let out a sigh of contentment.

"Are you Amri Glass?"

I look up to see an officer standing in front of me with a concerned look on her face. Her nametag reads Officer Blayard . The officer next to her, Officer Mercer by the look of his tag, looks like he'd prefer to be anywhere but here, standing next to a suicidal woman in the middle of a January cold front.

"Yes, I am. I appreciate you coming out here but there's no need. I'll be going home now." I start the walk up the dirt path to my car, but a hand grabbing onto my shoulder stops me.

"I'm sorry, Miss Glass, but you're going to have to come with us." Officer Mercer says, looking over to Blayard to take over.

"He's right, Amri. We were told you tried to take your own life, and because of that, we will need to place you in a state hospital for a few days until we determine that you are safe." She tries to sound apologetic, and she may be, but all I can focus on is the fact that I'll be locked up, my freedom taken away. No matter how disastrous it was, I don't want it taken away from me. I did this tonight so I would be even more free, so my soul would no longer be constrained to the confinements of Earth and reality.

"Absolutely not, that's ridiculous. I'm going home." I rip my arm out of Officer Mercer's grasp and start up the path again.

"And where is home, Miss Glass?" He asks his voice nothing but condescending.

I take a deep breath, wondering if they did a background check on me or if he was asking on pure instinct. "Anywhere I want it to be."

"We passed a car on the way down here, a light blue Chrysler if I'm not mistaken. The back seat looked to be filled with luggage, and a blanket sat in the front seat. You wouldn't happen to be living out of your car, would you?"

I turn around and stare at him, my face set in a stone mask. "I am, and that's not against the law."

He nods. "You're right, it's not, but considering what went down here tonight and the fact that you have no real place to go, we can't allow you to return to your life until we know for sure that we won't receive another call like the one we got today. "

"You won't. I'll be much more efficient next time." I mutter.

"What was that?" Blayard asks, moving toward me in a slow, methodical manner – like she's approaching a wild beast instead of a soaking wet twenty-four-year-old woman.

"The call you got," I say, deciding it would be better if I kept my mouth shut about any future attempts, "Did the caller give you a name?"

"We aren't allowed to give out information like that, Miss Glass. Why don't you make this easy on yourself and come down to the station with us?" Blayard gives me a soft smile, and I know that if we weren't in the position we are right now, she would be a good person to have in my life, strong but gentle in the ways that matter.

"I don't want to be arrested."

"We aren't arresting you. We only want to make sure that you're alright and that you can handle all the strong emotions you must be feeling." I hear Mercer scoff from behind her and watch as she shoots him a glare over her shoulder.

"You said I would be going to a state institution." I narrow my eyes, wondering what kind of wool they're trying to pull over my eyes.

"Yes, you'll be going to Melford Mental Institution. It will be required that you stay three days, to make sure you're okay, and then if the doctors see fit, you will be released."

"And if they don't?" I ask.

"Then they can extend your stay depending on what they determine your mental state to be like."

As soon as I hear the word ‘extend', I begin to shake my head. "No, I'm not going."

"This isn't a choice, Miss Glass," Mercer says, laughter coating his voice. The sick bastard is getting off on this whole encounter.

"Fuck you both." I turn my back on them and once again begin to walk the path toward my car. I hear them sigh behind me, and a whooshing sound fills my ears. I throw my hands out to my sides to balance myself, but it's no use. I fall to the ground, landing on my wrist as I try to break my fall. A scream passes through my lips as tears fill my eyes. The dizziness gets worse, causing my head to fall completely to the ground. The dirt feels grainy against my cheek, and I feel my tears mixing with the ground beneath me, turning that dirt into mud. I hear the two officers approach me from behind but as soon as I try to get up, a new wave of dizziness and nausea hits me causing me to fall right back down. I let out a sob, feeling completely defenseless and hating the feeling. I feel my eyes closing shut against my own will.

My body is shutting itself down and I can't do a damn thing about it.

Maybe this time, it will end for good. Maybe Death needed a little time to catch up with me. I take one last look at the wilderness around me, taking in the bare trees and the crisp air, the sound of the river rushing behind me, and the weird, utter stillness of the forest in front of me. Just when I am about to close my eyes for good, a glimpse of black catches my eyes.

The stranger from before is back and staring right at me. He tilts his head to the side, watching me cradling my wrist on the ground. He's too far away for me to see his eyes, but I can now see his body clearly. I was right before; he is very tall and wide in the shoulders. His chest narrows out around his waist, but his thighs still fill his black slacks. More than fill them, actually. I can see the muscles bulging out through the material. Same with his coat. His arm muscles are showing through the material of a long black coat that goes down to his knees. He still has the hood up, but I can feel his eyes on me anyway.

I open my mouth to yell out at him, to tell him he's a dick and he shouldn't have interfered, to cuss him out for standing there and staring at me now, unhelpful when he was so annoyingly helpful before, but I can't. Right when my mouth moves to form what I'm sure are going to be the most colorful words I've ever expressed, a wave of heaviness hits me so hard that I pass out against the cold ground.