text: Sitting there on the cold, hard, tiled floor, it really put things into perspective. Namely, what I was about to do with a loaded semi-automatic 9mm pistol in my hand, the end of the barrel pointing towards the side of my head. Bracing myself for the loud noise and the bright flash of light, I pulled the trigger and the familiar darkness clouded my vision as I began to slip from this world to the next, and just before I left this plane, I was pulled back, like a fish on a hook. I opened my eyes to find a blood-stained bullet laying on the tiled floor, smoke slowly rising off of it due to the residual heat. I knew this was going to happen. Why did I even think that this was going to work? Of course she wouldn’t let me die. I heard a feminine voice coming from the kitchen. My gaze and attention snapped to the door of the bathroom. It was that same voice I’d heard all those years ago, back when I was young and foolish. It’s funny how the choices we make as teenagers lead to things like this later in life. For some people, it’s a regrettable tattoo or a failed exam. For me, it was immortality, a seemingly perennial life. Right on cue, she walked through the door. She was a very pale, short, slip of a girl, dressed in a black, loose-fitting t-shirt and tight trousers that rolled down to her ankles. Her feet were open and bare, exposed to the cold air of the room, her face was made up of clear skin, framed by shoulder-length dark hair, a black ring adorning her nose, and lipstick painting her lips black. She was pretty. She was cute. She was Death. Let me explain this a little better. The young woman in front of me was the fourth Horseman, the embodiment of death. She had inherited her title from her father, a well-known figure known as the Grim Reaper. Unlike the Grim Reaper, Death actively caused living people to die according to her list because she wasn’t powerful enough to cause passive deaths around the world, but in time she’d grow stronger, and eventually Death would grow strong enough that even the Grim Reaper wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to her. I met Death when I was 19, a young university student obsessed with the occult who decided to try out the funny looking ritual in a dusty old book in the library’s basement. In hindsight, it was a horrible choice. I completed the ritual and, lo and behold, before me was Death, in all of her terrible glory. Oddly enough, Death and I hit it off and we began to have a sort of fling over the Summer, where I would summon her using the book I’d stolen and we’d go on little dates. Dinner, coffee, the movies, that sort of thing. Soon enough, I’d grown bored of Death, who’d lost her mystique quite quickly, mostly because whilst she looked like a goth and while she may be the embodiment of death, she was a very weird and clingy person. I put it down to her loneliness. Killing people and collecting their souls must’ve been a lonely job and she was probably at the peak of her loneliness when I met her. To cut this love story short, Death became smitten with me as I lost more and more interest in her, and she promised me that no matter what happened, I would always live because she couldn’t bear to see me die and pass on from this world to the next, leaving her alone. By her rationale, as long as I was around she would never be alone again. From that day forward, a mere 20 years ago, I haven’t aged. I *can* die but I always come back just as quick, not a single hair on my head disturbed. You name it, I’ve probably tried it. Chainsaw, bullet to the brain, trampled by horses, falling off a cliff, decapitation. Point is, I’ve done a lot to try to die and so far, none of it has worked. Death was watching me, a wide, beaming smile on her happy face, “Hey John! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I eyed the door just behind her and contemplated running, but it would be useless. She’d find me no matter how far or where I went. “Hey Death, how’s unlife?” Death giggled, “Oh, you know, same old, same old. Mostly boring seeing as I have no one to talk to. It’s quite the coincidence that I happened to be in the area and I sensed that you were close by, I was going to come find you. I miss you.” Coincidence, yeah, coincidence my ass. I cleared my throat, trying to at least sound somewhat excited, “You miss me? I thought you had a boyfriend.” Death’s beaming smile dimmed a little, her brow furrowing slightly, “Of course I miss you. Why would I need a boyfriend when I have the love of my life right here in front of me?” “Love of your life? Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” “No. I love you. You love me too, right?” Her voice took on a sad tone, and her smile all but completely disappeared. While I might not love her, I can’t stand seeing her cry. “Of course I do, you know that,” I swallowed some saliva as I tried to say the next sentence without sounding strained, “do you want to maybe hang out? I’ve got nothing to do, so...” Death’s smile returned, twice as bright as before, “I’d love to! Where are we going?” “I thought we could just chill here, catch up a bit more in-depth.” “Sure!” She exclaimed. Suddenly, her eyes glazed over slightly, a sign that there was someone nearby that she needed to kill to meet her quota, and I knew that she couldn’t see me. “John, I’m really sorry about this but I have to go. Work and all that, you get it right?” “Yeah.” No, not at all. I haven’t worked for over 14 years. Immortality can be a little beneficial in starting up your own business and getting crazy rich off of it. “I’ll be back later tonight though. You better pick out a good movie and snacks.” With that, Death vanished, off to go kill some more people and take their souls. In the meantime, I have to go and prepare for a date with Death. Somebody kill me now, please.