Death's Claim -IN CONSTRUCTION-

[DRdoctorlady]

Death's Claim

~Born to die, died to serve~

By DR

[DRdoctorlady]

Faced with Life, faced with Death, which is worst, I cannot say...

The circumstances of Evylyn’s life are, to say the least, strange.
Her death, even stranger.
Ever since birth, a silver watch has been Evylyn's companion and prophet. It has foretold of her birth and, during yet another therapy session in the counselors office, her death day.
Faced with death at the age of 14, after a short life of disappointment and failure, Evylyn tries to find meaning in life and what happens beyond, challenging the values of achievements, the workings of the religion and the afterlife, and above all, questioning who she is, and why she’s here.
As the date draws closer and things get even bleaker, it finally culminates into a single, life changing event:
Death.
For Evylyn Cross, this doesn’t mean what one would expect; no, it means becoming what she was always meant to be…
Death’s Assistant.

[DRdoctorlady]

WARNING:
This contains cursing, violence, death, suicide, drugs, and much, much more. If you don't think you can handle it, don't read. Other than that, go on~
Also, this is my rough draft. Please don't expect too much of me D:

- - - - - - - - - -

EDITORS AND ILLUSTRATORS WANTED

- - - - - - - - - -

"The art of living well and the art of dying well are one."
~~Epicurus

[DRdoctorlady]

Part 1

Tick Tock

“Live as you would have wished to live when you are dying.”
~Christian Furchtegott Gellert

[DRdoctorlady]

Chapter 1: Grief

“Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way."
Anne Morrow Lindbergh

. . .I am going to die.
. . .It was like I was stuck in the past, a moment before the...
. . .What?
. . .What else could it be?
. . .Screeching. Its not going away, it's in my ears, I can't make any sense of--
. . .Impact.
. . .Vibrations.
. . .Brooke's hand. Where'd it go?
. . .Jump forward. Time slow, caught in one second. Crashing to the ground. Face, knees, hands, ripped open.
. . .Turn.
. . .Brooke.
. . .No, no no no no.
. . .Heavy silence. Hysterical screaming.
. . .Car still moving forward. Brooke.
. . .Brooke.
. . ."BROOKE!"
. . .Limbs wrong. Skull crushed.
. . ."OH GOD."
. . ."SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE."
. . ."911!"
. . .Tick. Tock.
. . .Blood. Smeared across the pavement. Blood on the tires. Blood pooling around her head. Blood in her hair. Blood.
. . .Blood.
. . ."I'm gonna be sick."
. . ."AMBULANCE."
. . .No use.
. . .Dead.
. . .I crawl next to her and sit, face stinging, scraped skin burning. Blood seeps into my shoes, gets on my legs. I reach forward and--
. . .No.
. . ."What's she doing?"
. . ."Get her away from--Ughh."
. . .I turn away and puke.
. . .When I look back, the car driver is there, eyes wide open, slackjawed. The moment I lay eyes on her, she begins making excuses.
. . .I point at Brooke.
. . .No.
. . .Not Brooke.
. . .A mutilated bundle of body parts with a crushed head.
. . .So. Much. Blood.
. . ."I'm sorry," The lady gags, turning around and pulling out a cell phone.
. . .All my fault.
. . .Why am I not dead?
. . .Why is she dead?
. . .Shaking, I pull out the watch.
. . .Tick. Tock.
. . .Hasn't changed.
. . .I don't know if I want it to.
. . .I let my hand fall. The watch jerks downwards, yanking on my neck.
. . .Hollow. I can't feel quite right. I can't...
. . .I extend my hand and touch some of her hair. Brittle from years of drug abuse. Covered in--
. . .I turn away again, overcome with revulsion. I get to my feet, trembling. I stumble back to the sidewalk, where a group of teenagers had collected, distracted from their smoking. They back up. One makes a retching noise.
. . .I fall to my knees, too weak. No energy.
. . .They scatter, some going back to grab cigarettes, bottles. Scavenging the park for what's been left behind. Fleeing before the officials arive.
. . .I curl up on the ground, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
. . .I close my eyes. I can still smell the blood.
. . .What just happened?
. . .What did happen?
. . .I hear the first of the sirens, so far away.
. . .I'm not hurt.
. . .Brooke's beyond hurt.
. . .So why do they come?
. . .What's the purpose?
. . .To collect a body? Calm a driver? Tell me what happened? Tell me it's alright?
. . .They arrive quickly in a whirlwind of sounds, sirens blaring. I hear two clicks, hear them get out of the ambulances.
. . .One comes and sits me up, asks me stupid questions.
. . ."Are you alright?" Yeah.
. . ."What's your name?" Evylyn. Evylyn Cross.
. . ."Are you okay? Are you dizzy?" No, confused.
. . ."Did you hit your head?" She's not getting responses. She's concerned.
. . .I shake my head.
. . ."Can you talk?"
. . ."Yeah," I croak.
. . .She nods, and looks at the blood on my hands and knees.
. . ."Are you severely injured?
. . .I shake my head. She grimaces and pats me on the back before walking up to her partner.
. . .I can hear them speak.
. . .Dead on scene. Call a coroner. Get the girl home. Who is she anyway? Did you ask? Ask her again.
. . .Get her home.
. . .Home?
. . .There is no home for me.
. . .A three story brick prison. Constant therapy. Constant stress.
. . .Constant ticking.
. . .Not home. Home is a lost dream.
. . .I think of Brooke.
. . .She won't be going back. She'll be free. Maybe happy. No more stress, no more counseling, no more heroin addiction. Just empty. Or maybe burning? What if there's a hell? What if she's there?
. . .Is she safe? Is she alone? Is she sad? Does she know she's dead? Did it hurt? Will she be okay?
. . .What about me?
. . .I feel so tired now, all the shaking gone. My senses feel stunted. The adrenaline has tapered off.
. . .I can stay awake and deal with reality. Or I can sleep. Let others deal with my problem. I can forget.
. . .I can escape.
. . .I lay back down on the sidewalk, curl up tighter, and close my eyes. Ignore the sounds. Ignore the life. Just... sleep.
. . .I think about nothing.
. . .I am nothing.

[DRdoctorlady]

Reserved for Chapter 2, Denial X3

[DRdoctorlady]

Reserved for Chapter 3, Anger >8G

[DRdoctorlady]

Reserved for Chapter 4, Bargaining :3

[DRdoctorlady]

Reserved for Chapter 5, Depression

[DRdoctorlady]

Reserved for Chapter 6, Acceptance v_v

notes:
Something about the sky
Friend drugs
Bucket list