Chapter 2 - Amri

"Miss Glass. Miss Glass, can you open your eyes?"

For the second time in two days, I woke to someone calling my name. For the second time in two days, the weight of my failure lands on my chest. I didn't succeed. I didn't get to see my Reaper. I didn't get to escape life.

I open my eyes, blinking the sleep from them, and stare up into the face of an older female nurse. She's decked out in navy blue scrubs with her brown hair twisted into a tight bun behind her head. She's holding a light up, flashing it in my eyes, and I swat it away.

"Would you stop? That's fucking bright." My voice sounds a little better than it did last night, but it still sounds hoarse.

"I'm sorry, but I had to make sure you didn't have a concussion. Do you have any pain anywhere?" Her voice is soft with age, a voice only a sweet grandmother could ever attain.

I take a minute to check myself over, my head is pounding a soft rhythm into my skull, but I can feel my toes, no pain in my legs. My wrist though, holy mother of God.

"My wrist. "

"Yes, your wrist is badly bruised. I thought it may be a sprain but since you've been moving it, I believe it's just bruised on the inside. It most likely happened when you fell."

When I fell? What….oh. The dizziness, the nausea, the pain in my wrist, and – that mysterious man. He just watched.

"Who was that man that was there?"

"Officer Mercer? He was one of the police officers that responded to the scene. He's a very nice man." A blush coats her cheeks, and I stifle a laugh at her obvious attraction to the younger officer.

"No, not him. Although, I don't know if ‘nice' is the word I would use to describe him. There was another man. He was there when I woke up and then when I fell, he was standing at the edge of the woods."

"I'm sorry, Miss Glass, but when the officers brought you in, they said the caller had already left. They never mentioned anyone but the paramedics being there." She looks a little taken aback by my comment about Mercer, but she looks even more worried that I may have more than a concussion.

I don't want to concern her any more than I already have. The police said that if they deem me well enough, I'll only have to stay for three days. I can do this. Three days and then I'll be out and able to try and take my life again. This time, though, it will have to be a little more final than jumping off a bridge. Even though I was sure if the drowning didn't take me, the hypothermia would. Everyone makes mistakes, I guess.

I shake my head. "I'm sorry, I must be more tired than I thought. "

"Of course, dear, you've been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Let's get your vitals and finish your paperwork and then I'll get you to your room to sleep." The nurse pats my hand and wheels over a stand that has a bunch of medical machinery on it. She checks my blood pressure and heart rate, which are somehow normal despite my thoughts running rampant about the mysterious stranger from the bridge.

"What's your full name, dear?"

"Amri Nicole Glass."

"And your date of birth?"

"February 21, 1999." She nods and types this all into her computer.

"Any medications?"

"I was on Prozac and Abilify, but I haven't been able to get them refilled."

She nods again. "We'll be sure to get you set up with a new psychiatrist and get those meds started up again, I'm sure it will help."

I nod along with her, only following the conversation enough to answer her questions. She asks me if I've ever been married or had any children, no to both. Any living relatives? Again another no. She gives me a solemn look with my last answer and pats my shoulder.

"I think we have all we need right now, Amri. Damion, your nurse, will take you to your room. You do have an appointment with the house psychiatrist at three, but someone will be by to collect you and take you to her office."

With that, she leaves me alone with Damion, who motions for me to follow him out into the hallway. While I follow him, I take time to look around at the sterile building. It's everything you would think a mental institution would be. White walls as far as the eye can see, bars over all the windows since we're on the second floor, office doors line the walls and there are no pictures or bulletins anywhere. Damion takes a left and follows that hallway down before making another left and entering another, you know it, white hallway.

"This is the female wing; the male wing is on the other side of the building. Your psychiatrist's office is in that last hallway we were in and down the other way we have the cafeteria, a game room, and commons area, and there is a garden outside. The cafeteria is always open and stocked. You are free to roam there, but you're only allowed in your room in the patient hallways, the rest is off-limits. No going into other patients' rooms and no entering any office unless accompanied by a staff member. You are currently on suicide watch, so you are not allowed to have any sharp objects in your room. If one is found, we will confiscate it and you will go in solitary. You will have replacement uniforms, a blanket and pillow, and the necessary feminine items in your room. No bringing food into your room. There is a bathroom in there and doors will be unlocked from seven in the morning to seven at night. During those hours, you are free to go to the commons area and back to your room as much as you want, but outside of those hours, your door is locked from the outside. Do you have any questions?" He stops outside of a plain door with a window in the middle of it. I take a peek inside the window but don't see anything besides a single twin-size bed.

He must have said that spiel a lot to not mess up on any words. Lord knows I would've been stumbling over myself. "What about my belongings from my car?"

"Your car was taken to impound by the police. You will be able to retrieve it when you are discharged."

"Okay then. Well, I'm going to take a nap until my appointment."

He nods. "Sounds good, yell if you need anything. And sorry about that speech, it's required."

I shake my head, "No worries. It's your job." With that, I turn my back on him and enter the room.

Shutting the door behind me, I take a look around. A twin-size bed fills the back corner, and a barred window sits to the side. There are no curtains, so that's great. Looks like the sun will be waking me for the next three days. A clock hangs up on the wall across from my bed and a gray table sits beside the bed. Across the room is a door to what looks like a very small bathroom only big enough for a shower, toilet and sink – no mirror and no door. A cabinet sits in another corner, and I find the other gray uniforms that Damion mentioned.

I look down at myself and realize that someone must have changed me after I arrived here because I'm clothed in those same ugly gray scrubs. Great. I can only hope it was the sweet nurse and not Damion. I shiver at the thought.

Walking over to the bed, I slide under the covers, leaving the thick slip-free socks on my feet. I let out a sigh of relief, at least the bed isn't uncomfortable. It hits me that this is the first time I've slept in an actual bed since I got kicked out, and I'm not mad about it. It will be nice to get some good sleep before I leave this place.

I let my eyes fall shut as a deep breath leaves my lips. I

didn't dream about my Reaper while I was knocked out, but hopefully he chooses to grace my dreams today.

I smile when I come to. I'm here. I'm where my Reaper comes to visit me. I sit up off the ground and take a look around. I've always awoke in different places with these dreams, but this is the first time I've ever woken up in a bedroom that wasn't my own. A black four-poster bed sits along the back wall and skulls adorn the tops of the posts. There's a desk along one wall and next to a huge window showing the night sky that goes almost up to the ceiling. And the ceiling is…high as hell. Actually, the whole bedroom is humongous. It's bigger than Timothy's whole house and certainly a lot bigger than my current room at Melford. A living room set is on the far side of the room, black leather, which seems to be the theme here. The floor is black tile, and the walls are papered in a red and black pattern that has skulls adorning almost every free space. A giant chandelier hangs from the ceiling with, you guessed it, black diamonds hanging from the ends.

The walls are covered in art. Paintings. I walk over to the one directly in front of me. It looks like some sort of gothic Hellscape. There's a giant black castle, gargoyles lining the top, and two giant ones guarding the iron gate in front. Dead trees line the outside of the castle and behind those are mountains of obsidian. It's…beautiful. My eyes travel to the bottom of the painting where the artist's signature lay, well their initials – V.T.G. Whoever the artist is, they're very talented.

A throat clearing behind me has me turning around to find my Reaper staring at me once again.

"Hello, Reaper." I say, my voice no longer sounding hoarse as it does in the real world. The dreamscape must have cleared that up for me, and I appreciate it.

He doesn't say anything, as per usual. He's wearing black slacks and a matching black button-up that looks to be made of silk. He's barefoot, and it hits me that this must be his room if he's so comfortable in it. I don't bother to ask him why he changed the scenery. Out of all the questions I've ever asked him, he's only answered one, and that was to tell me to call him Reaper. That was months ago, and he hasn't spoken since.

He walks up to me, placing his hands on the sides of my face and tilting my head back. His eyes bore into mine, their brown so dark they almost look black. His dark hair is hanging loose around his ears and for the first time since these dreams started, he's no longer wearing his cloak. I can see everything. I take in the tattooed skull and scythe on the side of his neck. The tattoos on his fingers have different runes on them. It makes me wish I knew what they meant. He has a single earring in, one of a black cross hanging out of his right earlobe, and there's a scar that goes through his left eyebrow.

"You look…different than I imagined." I whisper, lifting my hand and tracing his scar.

He shudders and his eyes close against my touch. When they open again, there's no doubt in my mind that they are pitch black. He continues to inspect my face for a few moments before retreating, keeping one of my hands in his, as he takes in my whole body. I blush when I realize I'm still wearing the ugly gray scrubs from the hospital, but he doesn't seem to mind them .

When he's satisfied by what he sees, he pulls me along by the hand to his bed. I know I shouldn't join him. I really don't know him at all, but it doesn't feel wrong. It feels right, like I'm supposed to be here with him, hand in hand, and I automatically know that I can trust him.

He climbs into bed, showing off the most delectable ass I've ever seen on a man and pulls me in behind him. He pulls the covers over us, tucking me in against him as I lean my head against his chest, breathing in a nose full of his smell – smoke, citrus, and something darker and that I can't quite put my finger on.

We lay there for a while, not a word spoken between us before I break the silence. "I tried to kill myself yesterday."

His body grows hard as stone beneath me, but he still doesn't say a word. I decide to keep going, despite his obvious reaction to my words.

"I jumped off a bridge into the river. It was freezing, but I knew it would be. I held my breath, so excited to finally be leaving reality behind, so excited to finally meet you for real. I knew you would come for me. I knew you would be there waiting for me." His breath hitches underneath me. "But some asshole saved me. He somehow knew my name, and he must have pulled me from the water, although I don't know how because he wasn't wet. And then he disappeared. Though, he did show back up just in time to see me carried off by the police." I shake my head. "Asshole."

Through my whole confession, he never breathed a word. He let me talk, his body hard beneath me and his fingertips tracing my spine. I look up at him, watching his eyes roam over my face and the hint of a smile showing on his lips.

I roll my eyes, "Of course, not even that will get you to talk." Obviously, he's not mute. He's spoken to me before, but it's been so long I can't even remember what his voice sounded like.

We lay there for hours until I feel the pull of my body being woken up.

"I have to go. Will you be back tomorrow?"

He nods, unwrapping me from his arms and allowing me to sit up. He follows behind me, putting his weight on one hand and using the other to brush some dark strands of hair from his eyes.

I smile. "Tomorrow then, Reaper."

He catches my hand before I can get up and pulls me back down toward him. His lips land on mine for a brief moment, but that moment was all I needed. His lips had to be the softest thing known to man, and he kissed me like I was the most precious thing to exist in his world or mine. It left me wanting – no, craving for more. But before I can lean down and capture his lips in mine again, my body surges forward – back to reality.