Monsieur Death

Liam

As soon as we parted after lunch, I knew she was in danger. I guess it just came as being her guardian. Maybe it was creepy, but I followed her. I went around the house and saw her sitting in her bedroom with the window open. She sat there for a while, looking at her phone and tapping the bed beside her. She finally got up and went into the room next to her, which I supposed was her bathroom. She came out in different clothes, a camouflage tank top and ripped jeans. Suddenly, with a quick look around, she pulled a shoe box and counted the money before closing it. Then she climbed out of her window and started to walk away. I could only press myself against the wall and hope she didn’t see me. She didn’t, though, and seemed lost in thought. She wandered into the woods across the street. I followed her, slipping behind trees and begging her silently not to turn around. She stopped when she reached a quick river, lined with jagged rocks. A tiny, thin tree branch had fallen across. I suddenly understood why Judgement had me watching her. There was no way she was going to get out of this alive. Surprisingly, she made it about three quarters of the way across, before the branch broke under her feet. She closed her eyes as the rocks hurtled towards her head. But I was already there. Somehow, my arm was full of strength and power, and I hauled her up with no problem. But as soon as she was safely on shore, my newfound strength disappeared. We both lay gasping on the dirt.

“You!” She shouted in surprise when she saw me. Then reconciled and said. “So... you still want to be my friend?”

I looked at her.

“I don’t have friends.”

She smiled at me.

“Me neither.”

*********

I let her lean on my shoulder as we walked home, because she tried stumbling around by herself and banged into a multitude of trees. Her own shoulder was sprained.

“Why do you do it?” I asked her, hoping to spring the subject. I was referring to her stunts, and she seemed to realize it.

“I guess..... it’s for the thrill. And..... well, there isn’t much for me here.”

“Here?”

“This world, I suppose? I’ve always wanted to be a boy. But... My mother and my sister hate me, and dad pretends I don’t exist. I can’t seem to make any friends-“ She cut herself off.

“How did you know where to find me?!” She demanded.

“I-I was just-“

“And how do you know I’ve done this before?! How do you know so much about me?! And what about you? Why are you so strange?! You just waltz in here, with no family, thousands of dollars, your own house, saying your name is Monsieur Death and the Grim Reaper and never seeing paper money and you expect me to believe you?! Who are you?!” She paused for breath. “What are you?”

That hurt.

“I tried to tell you.” I told her. I didn’t understand. “I tried so hard.” Didn’t she ever wonder what it was like to die?

“You actually expected me to believe that stuff?!”

I didn’t know what to say anymore, so I just smiled and shook my head. “We may discuss it later.”

“Why though?”

I shrugged. “You are simply not ready.”

She glared at me. But before she bit my head off, I saw her house.

“We’re here!” I said. She pushed off my shoulder and stumbled to the door. She ripped off a note and stared at it for a while. Then she turned around and showed me.

Evangeline, it read, we don’t know where you’ve gone, but we went out for dinner. You have to fend for yourself until we come home.

Yours, Emmaline.

She groaned.

“You can come over.” I said. “I don’t mind.” I didn’t seem the harm in it. If I was going to save her life, I might as well get close to her. She agreed.

I left her on the couch and went into the kitchen. I didn’t remember having a kitchen, but I needed one, and it just seemed to be there, just like the TV room. The kitchen was clean and big, with a cup of tea and a bag of ice on the counter. I took them to her, and she seemed to know what to do. She put the ice on her shoulder and winced, and suddenly I worried I had given the wrong thing. She laughed.

“What?” I asked her.

She just shook her head.

“Here,” I said, the words just coming into my mind and out of mouth. “I read elevation helps.” I hadn’t read that! I didn’t even know what the word elevation meant. But she just nodded and moved a little.

“Are you hungry?” I asked her, remembering what she had asked me earlier.

“A little.”

“Stay here.”

“Like I’m going anywhere.”

I nodded and left for the kitchen. A strangled yelp burst from the living room.

“What?!” I shouted, running back. “What’s wrong?!”

“Nothing. Just my shoulder.”

I nodded again. “Dinner’s almost ready.” I told her. I didn’t know why I said that. I hadn’t even started. I didn’t know how to cook.

But she just smiled at me. I went back into the kitchen to find a table set for two places. A meal was also ready. I walked around, examining it. When I turned back to the counter, there was a pair of girls clothes sitting on the counter. I went back to where she was on the couch.

“Dinner’s ready, but if you want to change first, that’s fine.”

I held up the pair I had found in the kitchen.

She looked at me a little weird, but pulled herself up and accepted them.

“Thanks. Where should I change?”

A door appeared behind her.

“There.” I said, pointing blindly at the door and hoping it was what I needed it to be.

It was. She opened the door to a bathroom. She looked at me odd again, but started in.

“You can bathe too.” I told her, hoping that was appropriate.

Apparently, it wasn’t. She gave yet another strange look and said nervously, “Maybe a shower.”

She walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

She was out again in less than five minutes.

“Much better.” I told her. She looked at me again, but this look was more irritated than confused.

As we sat down to dinner, she asked me,

“You know how to cook?”

I shook my head, unsure of what to say.

“So.... how come you have girl clothes?”

Awkward. But again my mind spoke for me.

“I had a sister. She died. I kept her clothes sentimentally I guess.”

Then my idiotic self added, “Those were actually the clothes she died in.”

She gave me a horrified look.

“Oh.”

“Help yourself.” I said, gesturing at the food and changing the subject.

She smiled at me and picked up her fork, but suddenly dropped and grabbed her shoulder and shouted in pain.

“I’ll get you some medicine.” I ran out of the room. An orange bottle sat on the couch’s side table. I brought it back to her. She reluctantly took some. We went back to eating, and then the Shalka showed up.