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It has been exactly seven days since the last time I saw Death. After that day at the fight club, life went oddly back to normal. Things had been almost too peaceful. I had my visits with Margaret, which per usual were painful and uneventful. I managed to get a few kills in with minimal disturbance and thankfully had no more weird illusions.

After much reflexion, I have come to the conclusion that Death was not behind the attack at the cinema. Even though I would not put it past him to find a way to kill me after all, he has said many times how he is unable to do it.

I just can not figure out who is trying to kill me. You may think I would have gathered a lot of enemies after having killed so many people in my lifetime, but no one has ever found me out. I always take the necessary precautions.

Not knowing is driving my crazy. I am in a state of constant anxiousness, waiting for whoever it is to hit again. The threat looms over my existence like cancer. I have a feeling they will not be done with me until I am dead.

As for what happened at the fight club, I deal with it mostly by not thinking about it at all. I have no wish to relive that part of my life. I refuse to even address it. Forgetting and burying it deep inside has worked for me pretty well in the past.

Tonight, as I browse through the aisles of the supermarket in search for... What am I searching for again? I check the list that is tucked in my pocket one last time to make sure I am not mistaken, strawberry ice cream, garlic croutons, cheese curds and almond milk... I wonder what the hell Sophie has in mind for our 'girl's night in'.

When I have gathered the offending combination of foods, I pay at the self-service cash register to avoid as much human interaction as I possibly can. I place my things in a plastic bag and walk through the automatic doors, bringing the hood my sweatshirt up when the cold wind whips my face on my way out. I check my watch. It indicates 7:30 PM. This leaves me thirty minutes before Sophie gets to my place.

I walk through the winding streets at a brisk pace towards the woods. The moonlight reflects against the ice patches that litter the pavement and I avoid them with each step I take.

The dark streets are mostly empty at this hour, safe for a young boy I see riding a bike down the Main Street. I find it curious, how some people will still ride their bike after the snow has started falling. Who am I to judge? I am probably the only person who prefers walking even in below 0 weather.

When I turn into a smaller barely-lit residential street, I am yanked hard by the collar and slammed into a brick wall. My bag drops from my hand when I try to remove my attacker's arm from my neck. He squeezes hard, his cold, angry eyes boring into mine. I barely register the green ruban floating around his pupils before I bring my foot up and kick him in the ribs as hard as I can. He backs away from me with a snarl, stringy, greasy hair whipping around his face in the wind.

Before I am able to throw the next punch at him, someone grabs me from behind and I tumble down on the ground. When I look up, two burly guys are looking down at me ferociously. The bigger one of them whips out what I recognize as a dagger.

Shit.

I jump up to my feet, taking an automatic defensive stance. There are three of them and one of me. I doubt I would be able to take them even with two good arms. I need to buy some time until someone sees me and calls for help. I can feel my sassy streak manifesting itself right about now. I am nervous.

"Wow, the three of you ever heard of a shower?" I say nervously, scrambling to pull out my gun. Damn it. It is not there.

The one I sent on the ground cackles and scrambles up to his feet. The bigger one of the other two takes advantage of my momentary loss of focus to lunge at me, dagger raised in the air.

I manage to dodge him at the last minute and lift my knee up to his groin area. I bring a fist up in an uppercut but before it can collide with his jaw, the smaller one grabs me by the hair and pulls me away from his friend.

"Don't even try, bitch!" he barks.

He holds me by one arm while his bigger friend holds my other one. The first one who grabbed me approaches us with a sinister smile on his wretched face.

I struggle against their hold, but they keep a tight hold on my limbs. That is when I know I am screwed. Greasy-haired guy takes a few more steps towards me, his eyes roaming over my body as though pondering where to start.

"I'm not gonna make this quick, doll," he says bitterly.

"Why are you doing this?" I say, "Who are you?" Buy some time.

One of them pulls on my arm and I loose my balance, almost toppling over.

"It doesn't matter who we are, you're gonna pay for what you did," he snarls in my ear.

The one facing me drives his foot into my midsection and I instantly feel all the air escape my lungs. Ouch. Before I can catch my breath again, a fist is slammed against my right cheek and I hear a loud crack. A bitter, metallic taste invades my mouth before another fist slams into my left cheek. Blood sputters out and hits the concrete ground in a million little droplets. I spit out some more, feeling as though I am about to choke on my own blood.

"You don't have to do this," I try, barely recognizing the croak that comes out of my mouth, "Is it money you want?"

To my horror, the three of them erupt in laughter around me. I am apparently not in on the joke. I feel a meaty hand grab my chin and lift my head up so I am once again staring into those cruel eyes. A small shift of his shirt reveals several puncture marks on his neck.

"Don't even try," he spits, "You ain't leaving this place alive." He drives his foot on my knee cap and my leg snaps at an unnatural angle. I cry out in pain.

I get punched in the face again, repeatedly. Again and again. I loose count of the amount of times I get hit when black starts spotting my vision.

My legs are no longer supporting me, so when they finally let go of my arms I fall on my side, hugging myself with both arms. The cold ground feels nice against the side of my face and I try to focus on that while the three of them kick me relentlessly.

Please stop.

I try to zone out the sound of my bones cracking or the wet feeling of blood that is starting to pool around me. The pain is so terrible that I no longer feel a thing. I am but a pulp of shattered bones and battered flesh.

This is it. I can feel the life leaving my body slowly. Each breath takes too much effort. I am wheezing and soon my yelps and cries stop coming out. I am silent. I will die here, tonight. I do not know if I feel relief or sorrow. After everything, death feels like the sweet ending to my agony. No more killing, no more pain, no more memories. Tears start falling on my blood-stained cheeks, heat against cold.

When I see it, I lift my eyes up at the light. White, blinding, beautiful. The kicks and the laughs have stopped, but my relief does not come.

Behind the light materializes a young man I have never seen before. He looks livid as he takes in the spectacle before him. Despite his slender build, he takes on each one of my attackers as though they mean nothing. Dodging their hits at an inhuman speed.

I watch as much as I can through my swollen eyes and blurred vision, mesmerized by how gracefully this being moves. When the three men lay in a puddle of limbs and blood, he rushes over to me. I see his inquisitive blue eyes assess me. The lightest blue I have ever seen. They are almost white.

My entire body is paralyzed and even though I am not dead yet, my ending is coming quickly. Maybe Death has marked me after all.

I watch him pull out a cellphone from his pocket and dial something before bringing it to his ear. He waits for a moment and then speaks for the first time.

"Azrael, you need to come. Right now," his voice is calm, soothing. "Yes, it's her. She's going to need some blood if she is going to survive this. And I doubt you'd want me to give her mine."

I am unable to wrap my head around what he is saying. What is he talking about? Just let me die.

Not a second later, Death's large cloaked form appears behind him. His dark eyes instantly land on me. In a flash he is crouching over me and I am stunned at the torrent of emotions I see across his beautiful face.

"Who did this?" he growls menacingly. The air around us becomes dangerously cold and heavy, making it even harder to breath. I see power sizzling around him in dark waves, getting bigger and bigger. His eyes roam frantically over every inch of my body, assessing the damage. Then, he turns to the pile of bodies, "Tell me!"

"We can figure it out later. You need to take care of her, right now!" The blue-eyed man says with urgency.

My eyes travel down to the wrist Death has just slit. Thick, red liquid drips down from a single cut. He gently lifts my head and brings his wrist to my mouth. I would certainly recoil away under normal circumstances, but I find that I no longer have control over my body. Moving anything causes me an incredible amount of pain.

I feel the warm liquid filling my mouth and I do not pull away. Instead, I let it make its way down my throat and soon catch myself sucking it ferociously. I can not stop myself. I need more. I drink, and drink.

After what feels like an eternity, Death pulls his arm away.

"She will be ok, brother," he places a hand on Death's shoulder, "It's time you told her, anyway," he adds cryptically, looking down at me. Our gazes cross each other momentarily and he narrows his eyes at me.

"She isn't ready," states Death with a grim voice.

"She isn't ready, or you're not ready?"

"You may go back to your realm now, Yav. I've got it from here," replies Death coldly.

He lifts me up carefully, placing an arm behind my knees and the other under my shoulders bridal-style.

"Very well, but before I go, I strongly suggest you fix things between you two. She may be protected by the fact that you can't mark her, but her injuries tonight could have left her with some serious long-term physical and psychological damage."

Death flexes his jaw, looking down at me with a mix of concern and anger.

"Goodbye, brother." I see a flash of light and the man who saved me is gone.

Death holds me tightly against his chest and I soon find that the pain has eased up and I am able to breath properly again. I feel the air fill my lungs with each intake of air. The pain is now completely gone. I let my head rest on Death shoulder and focus on the erratic beat of his heart. It synchronises with mine and soon, our hearts beat to the same rhythm. I let darkness overcome me, but not before hearing his haunting words.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. It will never happen again."