The last step.
Letting go of the people I love. Unlike all the other times, Death isn’t here for this step. It’s been two weeks since I have done the fifth step. Death is in his study and I am in the hall outside the room with the instructions he gave me.
I just have to let go, writing all I can about them on a piece of paper. After doing that, I’ll burn them and imagine my love burning to ashes with the paper. He says this is extremely personal and that’s why he doesn’t want to. It’s like invading my privacy and he meant that. He meant that and something else he isn’t telling me. It hurts me that he isn’t being a hundred percent straight with me because I have feelings for him.
I don’t know when it started but now I can’t stop thinking of him. Why do I want to be with him all the time? I keep thinking of his confession at the Formal. It makes me mad that he’s treating me like the plague nowadays. I am about to leave. I know. Can’t he be nice to me before I go?
Isn’t he Death for Pete’s sake? Isn’t he used to dealing with situations like this? Perhaps I’m crude. Perhaps I’m selfish but I want him to be sweet to me until I dissolve into foam and live forever floating in the sea where my soul resides somewhere else.
I lower my gaze at the pen and paper in my hand. Maybe, I should write Death a paper to burn. I take a deep breath and begin to write:
Death is an ass.
He hurts me sometimes. He makes me sad when he teases me too much. He is uptight and strict. He doesn’t like anything at all. Or he pretends to like nothing at all. He likes to read. He loves to work and he loves to cook. He cooks all sorts of things and I found out that he sucks at baking. He nearly burnt the kitchen down last week trying to make some cheddar souffles. He should really stick to the stove top but he is so stubborn. He keeps on trying to make that damn souffle. He is an infuriating mess. An infuriating mess I’m falling for.
I didn’t mean to fall for him. I don’t know why but once he started peeling back his mask and once I saw a glimmer of who he truly was I think that’s when I started to care for him.
He cares for me and cooks for me all the time now. All that is going to end I know. That’s why I am writing this letter. That’s why I’m burning this letter.
I sniffle as I finish the paper. I fold it up and place it into the bucket. I write one for my mom, dad, Tyler, and Jason. For these papers, I fill multiple pages talking about each of them. I put a great deal of energy just writing. After I finish, I place it all in the metal bucket and I tighten my grip on the lighter. I light a single paper and place the flaming piece into it.
As I watch the flame grow, an ant crawls up my arm. I smack the place where I feel the insect but I realize that there isn’t an ant at all. Even though there isn’t anything on my skin, I feel them everywhere. The crawling sensation leaves a burning trail on my skin until it sinks deeper beneath my flesh. I break out into a cold sweat and I swat at my skin in a weak effort to help myself.
This is by far the worst out of all of the steps. I’m boiling in my own skin. I whimper and whine. A twist in my chest has me screaming. It hurts so much.
The door flies open and I’m in Death’s arms in seconds. He douses the flames and takes me into the living room. “You’re burning up Anwen. I’ll get the ice pack,”
He leaves me on the couch for the open kitchen. He switches on all the air conditioners on his way to the freezer. My back arches as I let out another yelp. This is all too much.
“I’m here,” Death coos as he places an ice pack on my forehead. “This isn’t supposed to happen this way. The steps are supposed to be calming,”
“I-I finished the last step,” I manage to say.
“I care about you right now, not the step,” Death says “Is this ice working?”
The heat is cooling down. “Yes, it is working. I’m good,”
“You are still warm though. You aren’t freezing anymore,” Death observes. “It’ll probably take you a while to get to normal,”
We stay in silence as Death tends to me. His eyes are dark and full of care. His rough hands hold my hand before he moves on to something else. My lower lip trembles. “Can’t you be nice until I move on, Death? I know I won’t be here for much longer but still…”
“Felix,” Death tells me not looking me in the eye.
“What?”
“My name isn’t Death. It’s Felix. My mother named me but it’s custom for the CEO of my company to be named Death for tradition. Please call me Felix from now on,” Death says, sighing “Well, don’t call me that at work. I don’t like many people to know,”
Tears come forth but not because of the same reason as before. Him giving me his name is such an intimate thing. He trusts me with something precious. An emotion swells in my chest as I gaze on his face.
“Okay…Felix,” I say.
He smiles wide and gives me a kiss on my nose. He gets up and walks away.
“Hey, where are you going?” I call out.
Death laughs. “I’m just going over here. I never made you my famous Alfredo,”
He gets to work taking out pots and pans. I watch Death, I mean Felix, get out vegetables and the rest of the ingredients. His muscles flexing as he reaches for things on the top shelves. He chops the onions and turns on the stove. Felix gazes at me and smiles that breathtaking smile.
In the midst of this sweetness, there is a single thump but it vibrates throughout my entire being. All the extra heat leaves at once but I don’t return to the extreme coldness I experienced before. Then there is another thump, and then another.
My heart, my heart is beating.
_______
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I was wondering… If I use characters that are alive in real life and I name them differently in a story, is that considered fan fiction? Like, I use original story lines but I like to use people that I like as ‘actors’. I am a fan of them so is it fan fiction?????
Like IDK.
Anywhoooooo, enjoy the story 🙂