“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Bye, Joseph.” March ended the call, sickened with himself for having to put on a brave face for everyone. He didn’t know if he’d be alive next weekend. Hell, he didn’t know if he’d be alive tomorrow.
A pulse formed in his temples and he wanted to scream and cry in frustration like a child, as if he wasn’t a twenty-four-year-old man. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another—his life was becoming more and more affected by the migraines, by his anti-social behavior. March had never had any real relationships. He’d only had sex twice, and even that was with guys he’d met online, strangers who’d lost interest afterward.
Pushing off from the beam, March pressed himself inside the cabin. The coolness of the air hit him and sent a shiver throughout his body. It wasn’t cold enough to start a fire, but he wanted to feel the warmth anyway. After spreading out his damp clothes on a wooden bench near the entry, he set several logs in the fireplace and started the kindling.
March placed a few blankets from the couch on the floor and sat back, pulling his knees to his chest. Twenty-five years old in only a couple of weeks. He stared down at the jagged scars on both his wrists, the memories rippling through him. His family had never been a factor in why he felt the way he did, because they had always been great—perfect, even. It was something wrong with him, something he was trying to fix. Trying so damn hard.
A clink came from across the room. With tears sliding down his cheeks, March glanced over his shoulder. Out the window was an outline of someone looking in—a man—but he couldn’t see him clearly.
“Hey!” March shouted, jumping to his feet. He threw open the door but found the porch empty. In the distance, he heard a loud splash from the lake.
Without pause, March took off running, searching for the man who had jumped into the water. As the lake neared, he didn’t hesitate, and dove into the clear liquid. Once below the surface, he twisted and turned as the water swirled around him, but only the pebbled rocks of the bottom surrounded him.
Gliding his arms through the water, he surfaced and blew out unfocused breaths, when something light brushed his ankle, as if a finger had stroked him. He dove down under again, exploring every direction he could, discovering nothing.
Frantic, March shakily swam back and pushed himself from the lake to return inside. On the way back he looked all around, thinking that his mind was playing tricks with him. His head still pounded, so it was possible.
Once inside, he removed his boxers and took a couple pain pills for his migraine. He grabbed a blanket from the floor, cocooning himself inside and watched the fire, pretending nothing had happened.
Bang! March’s eyes flew open to the loud noise. He scrambled to his feet and gazed up at the roof where the sound had come from. The flames in the fireplace had already died out, and the sun was gone for the day.
March cocked his head and listened for another bang and when nothing came, he lifted his phone from the table and checked the time. It was a little after one in the morning. He was about to lie back down and chalk it up to his imagination when another bang blasted from the roof. His gaze flicked to the ceiling once again and remained locked there. He didn’t know if he was scared or annoyed, but his body stayed frozen.
Screeeeeeeech! The shingles to the roof sounded as though they were being clawed. March dropped the blanket and threw on his still-damp clothing from the bench, then flipped on the living room light. With a few quick swipes, he turned the flashlight on from his phone and ran outside, barefoot.
The light on his cell wasn’t bright enough, but the sky above was decorated with illuminating stars that he wasn’t used to. Back home they were always buried by pollution. Taking several steps backward, he craned his neck to get a clear view of the roof.
“Hello?” March rasped, automatically feeling dumb for asking that. It was probably only a raccoon—there were lots of animals here compared to his apartment back home. If it wasn’t an animal then a normal person wouldn’t have come outside empty-handed, but he wasn’t afraid of dying. Regardless, death would come for him one day. Even when he had wanted death to come, the Reaper had still left him behind.
Tilting his head, March tried to listen for any more rumblings. Only the calming breeze, a hooting owl in the distance, and the singing of insects pulsated in the darkness. He shook his head and went back up the few steps, but a crash to the ground caused him to whirl around.
March brought up the phone flashlight in a hurry, only catching a glimpse of pale skin and jet-black hair as something dashed at an intense speed toward the lake. It was too dark to see anything farther out as the smack of water echoed.
His pulse raced with a feeling March could only identify as longing. For what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d wanted whatever had been on that roof to take him somewhere in that lake, too. Maybe his headaches were causing him to not only feel things, but to see them. March didn’t care. He strode toward the lake, knowing there could be a huge possibility that he would end up dead.
The lake stood in front of him—the reflection of silvery stars and the thin sliver of the crescent moon glittered across its surface. His heart gave a delicious pound of fear of the unknown, the intrigue, the want, the hope, and possibly the appetite.
Despite his earlier trembling, March now had a steady hand when he set his phone on the edge of the lake and toed his way in, water kissing knees, waist, chest, and then neck. With gentle movements, he treaded farther out into the lake. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Closing his eyelids, March let himself sink down, down, down. He opened his eyes, but at night all he could see was darkness shrouding him in a thick cloud of liquid. His heart sped up as he kept his eyes open, staring straight ahead into the murkiness. It felt as if maybe something was in front of him, or maybe he only wished it.
March reached a hand, prepared for something, but only the bend and stretch of water brushed his fingertips. He needed oxygen and couldn’t hold his breath any longer. Out of his control, March moved toward the surface. But just as he felt the night air on his head, something cold latched tightly around his foot and pulled him back under, preventing his escape.
As the air left his lungs, he couldn’t bring himself to scream. Not even as he was being dragged downward, farther and farther than he believed the lake could ever go. His heart beat wildly, lungs burning, and still he smiled as he waited for death to take him, the world turning blacker than it already was.
March opened his eyes and saw an angel. Large silvery eyes looked into his, staring down at him with an unreadable emotion. His skin was pale white, like the color of the moon. Long dark hair flowed past his shoulders. But March couldn't stop staring at his face, the broad nose, the sharp canine teeth. Two separate necklaces with arrowheads hung from the stranger's neck against his well-sculpted, naked chest. All he wore was a pair of cotton pants and no shoes.
While still dazed, March thought he’d woken in Heaven with a man who could fulfill every single one of his desires. But then he remembered the lake and everything that came before that. March opened his mouth to shout, but the man’s hand slammed around his lips. “Do not shout. If you do, he will come, and trust me, you will not like what he does to you.”
With a robotic nod, March took a deep swallow. He had asked for death, wanted death, but instead, he’d woken up somewhere else.