Elta opened her eyes and the ceiling moved in a very unnatural way. Groaning, she tried to sit up, but a firm hand on her shoulder pushed her back down. She fought against it, confused.

"Sit still!" her mother's voice commanded. Elta looked over and met her gaze. Her mother's face was knotted with worry. "Are you alright? What happened? We heard you scream!"

Elta narrowed her eyes trying to make sense of what her mother said. Hadn't she just been napping? Why was that so upsetting? What was she talking about? But pushing her palm down, she felt coolness and the grit of dirt; she was on the floor now, there was no mistaking that. She closed her eyes fully, concentrating, trying to remember what had happened last.

She remembered having an unsettling dream and waking up. The room had been cold because the fridge was open, and... and there had been someone in here...

Elta sat up quickly, avoiding her mother's forceful hand. Her head span momentarily. Her eyes met with the crowd that hovered over her.

The room had filled with the entire staff of the clinic, each with a pained look of concern on their faces. Elta cringed, not from her throbbing her forehead, but disgust at their expressions.

But they continued to stare, oblivious to her sudden rush of hatred for them; they were all expecting an answer. "Someone came into the room and they—they startled me!"

Her mother gave her a confused look, her brows knitting together, and the rest of the staff exchanged similar looks. None of them had been the ones who were rooting around in the fridge.

"Someone was in the room," Elta repeated, stone-faced and her tone deathly serious. "They were... they were taking the blood out of the fridge."

Recognition dawned on her mother's face like a warm sun. "Oh, dear, that must've been the new volunteer," she grinned sheepishly. "We asked him to remove the old blood from the fridges... It's not supposed to be his job, but we're so swamped and—"

Elta closed her eyes again and tuned her mother out. Shame and embarrassment at her stupidity consumed her, and the burn of her clumsiness only added to it. Her face reddened, revealing her embarrassment to the room, and in turn, adding to it. It had just been a volunteer who was just disposing of old blood. She had totally overreacted. How could she let herself get carried away? This day was getting worse and worse.

One of the resident doctors coughed, breaking the awkward silence of the staff. He nodded and made a motion with the clipboard clutched in his hand that all unnecessary persons should vacate the room. Elta stealthily scanned the employees as they left, and none of them were unfamiliar. The new volunteer must not have been amongst them.

"Don't scare me like that!" her mother said after they had left, cupping her daughter's face in her hands. She kissed the tender area on Elta's forehead, causing both Elta's injury and temper to throb. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Elta hissed through clenched teeth.

Her mother pursed her lips. "Alright, then... Well, if you're okay to move, we should get going."

"But don't you have to finish your shift?" Elta asked; her head still felt woozy, but she still hated having to be fussed over, even if it meant leaving early.

"I'm sure they'll let me take off a little early tonight," her mother said, breaking apart from her daughter and heading towards her locker to collect her coat. Elta picked her hooded sweatshirt off the floor from where it had fallen beside her, unrolled it, and pulled it back on. She was glad her mother's back was turned when she stood, because she swayed slightly before regaining her footing. That was not something she wanted her to notice.

After Elta and her mother had collected their things, signed out, and said their goodbyes, they trooped off to the parking lot. Elta wanted to drive her own car back to their home but her mother wouldn't hear of it.

"If you feel better tomorrow, you can come with me to pick it up," her mother said like she was promising a young child candy for being good. Elta foresaw that if she made the trip tomorrow with her mother, she would insist she spends the next afternoon at the clinic too. There would be no escaping it. She made a mental note to recharge her iPod.

The pair climbed into her mother's car, a slightly newer version of Elta's. The engine revved obediently and they left without another word. The day had been long, and the drive home was not a short one.

Her parents insisted on living out in the country, and though Elta cursed their location as a child, she had come to appreciate it more recently. Their distant home removed her from nosy neighbours. No one could make up excuses to drop by and see how she was doing when they were so far out of the way. A determined few had tried, but she had made it clear that she knew what they were doing and that they weren't welcome.

Elta rested her tender forehead against the icy glass of the passenger window and stared out into the surrounding area. She enjoyed the drive home; the view was calming. Something about the undisturbed nature was peaceful. The land surrounding the town was not too flat, but not too hilly. It was a perfect in-between. It was like they lived on the exact border between the foothills of the mountains and the stretching plains of the prairies. It was truly a lovely scene to lose yourself in if you wanted to get lost.

Elta wanted to get lost. She just wanted to smother her mounting embarrassment from the day's encounters. She had been moments away from accusing a perfect stranger of stealing blood from a blood bank that her mother worked at! She pressed her forehead harder into the window, aggravating the throbbing pain, a half-attempt at punishing herself for being so ridiculous. She wondered how big of a bruise her clumsy impact would leave. She bruised so easily these days, so it was probably going to be a big one. She was suddenly thankful again for her Independent Education meant that she didn't have to attend regular classes at the high school.

The small car wove through the twisting roads and eventually took a sharp turn onto their driveway. They drove through the cover of trees for a moment before revealing the modest farmhouse at the end. Elta slid out of the door as soon as her mother put the car into park, glad to be home. At least she couldn't embarrass herself in her own house. As she crossed the threshold, she touched the wooden frame of the doorway in superstition; considering the events of today, she wouldn't be surprised if she managed to find a way to humiliate herself within the confines of her own home.

Their home was small, but not in a claustrophobic way. It was the picture of coziness that real estate agents tried to invoke when they were selling a cramped hole in the wall. The house itself was nothing really special. It was the prefabricated kind, the ones you buy a plan for and then the company comes out to your plot of land and builds it. There were hundreds like it out in the surrounding countryside. Her mother was never a master decorator, but she managed to arrange their charmingly mismatched furniture into a space that was welcoming and safe.

She made her way silently into the house, up the stairs and into her room— on the backside of the house, her window looking off into the tangled woods—before her mom could catch up and continue to make a fuss about her. Elta thought she might scream if her mother tried. She locked her door, paused momentarily to plug in her iPod, and then collapsed onto her bed. After her last attempt ended in disaster, what she needed was a real rest.

What she craved was a dead sleep, with no dreams and no nightmares, so none of the events of the day could seep in and disturb her. She rolled onto her side so that she could face out into the forest as she attempted to ease herself into sleep. Elta concentrated on the trees outside her window, blocking out the humiliating images, and before long she was asleep.

✦

Elta slept through most of the evening. Her mother had attempted to disturb her a few times, once to offer food, and the second to tell her that the food that had been previously rejected was now in the fridge. Elta only responded in irritated, muffled yells, directing her mother to get away from her door and let her sleep.

She awoke refreshed the following morning, having forgotten the haunting images of the previous day for the first moments of her morning. But as her mind caught up with her awakened body, they trickled in, making her blush anew and dread the plans for today.

Elta exhaled deeply. She tried her best to shake it out of her head as she dragged herself from her bed, but she had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be a good day. Half-heartedly dragging herself through her daily routine, Elta headed to the bathroom. When she glanced into the mirror her reflection confirmed the day's continuing downward spiral; there was a large purple splotch where her head had met the floor. It was like a badge of her own clumsiness, and she was not enthused about wearing it.

Elta quickly washed her face and went back to her room to find something to hide the evidence. She dug out an old knit hat, and pulled it down low, over her forehead in an attempt to hide her injury from her mother.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her, Elta thought. Or, at least, not send her into another hysterical fit. Despite the deal made with her mother yesterday, she was afraid that her mother would take one look at her forehead and extend her imprisonment for another few days, maybe even a week.

"Elta!" her mother called from downstairs. "I'm leaving now! If you want your car, you better get down here!"

Elta snatched her things and dashed down the stairs, not wanting to be left behind. As soon as her mother laid eyes on her, it is obvious the hat was an exercise in futility.

Her mother's face fell into a frown. "Why are you wearing a hat inside?"

"It's... it's cold?" Elta mumbled, in one last weak attempt.

Her mother stared at her for another moment, searching her face. Elta avoided her eyes. "Take it off," she said at last. "I want to see your forehead."

Elta grudgingly removed the hat, revealing her bruise and messing up her short hair.

Much to her displeasure, her mother behaved exactly as she expected. Elta's mother gasped like her daughter had been mortally wounded instead of minimally bruised. She ran towards Elta, and grabbed her face, to examine the damage more closely.

"Well!" she said, exasperated. "I can't leave you on your own today. You're staying at the clinic!"

Elta closed her eyes and sighed through gritted teeth. She knew it. There was no use putting up a fight. This was not the kind of weekend Elta had been hoping for.

She followed her mother out to the car in silence; she was not interested in speaking to her mother while in this foul mood. She put in her headphones the minute they sat in the car. At least her iPod was charged and she had a worn copy of her favourite book tucked into her bag. That would pass the time a little faster.

As they drove towards the clinic, the events from the day before played out once again in Elta's mind. She shuddered to think of having to face the staff of the clinic today. She wished that she could go to the library instead, but then cringed at the thought, as she remembered Mrs. Cape's pitiful look and her unpleasant encounter with that rude stranger. There was nowhere she wanted to go now. That seemed to ease the pain of having to accompany her mother to work; it's not like she had other options.

But the memories of yesterday were hard to shake, and when she arrived at the clinic Elta felt her cheeks immediately go hot. Her mother paid no heed to her embarrassment and hurried her inside. Elta tried her best to lag and avoided making eye contact with the staff as she made her way through the halls towards the back room.

It said a lot about her situation that she now took true solace in the break room. She didn't even linger at the door, she rushed forwards, heading for the bed, and hopped up on it. She pulled out her iPod, book, and freshly laundered blanket out from her bag, then dropped it on the floor.

Putting her earbuds back into her ears, Elta settled in and opened the book at a random spot. She had read this particular novel so many times that she didn't need to start at the beginning. She began to read, but it soon became obvious that even her favourite book provided no comfort. Her eyes slid easily over the words, meaningless from familiarity, and the musty smell of the pages couldn't help but remind her of the library and the unpleasant boy she had met. Frustrated, she flung the book off the bed and into the pile her bag had made on the floor.

Elta groaned, exasperated, and pulled the blanket over her, deciding to make yet another attempt to sleep off these perpetually embarrassing memories. She didn't want to be haunted by this memory of that rude stranger any longer, but her final thoughts before she drifted to sleep were of his steely eyes. In her head, he was grinning at her like he was amused by her failed efforts to push him from her mind.

He followed her into her dreams again.

She was in the library, on the second floor. But instead of sitting in her usual corner, she was in the middle of the open study area. The room was filled with students, all hunched over the tables, working diligently. Nothing immediately seemed out of place... until she tried to move... and found that she couldn't. For some mysterious reason, her feet seemed to be stuck to the floor, held in place by an unseen force. Anxiety rose in her as she continued to try and free her legs but to no avail.

She glanced around, studying the faces of the students scattered around the tables, all clinging to tattered pages of notes, obviously deep in thought. Elta tried to get their attention, whispering for them to help her, but they ignored her. When she leaned in closer, Elta realized their faces were strangely blurred.

Her voice began to rise as she begged for help. She didn't even care if Mrs. Cape came running to chastise her for the noise; at least it would mean that someone would notice her, help her. But no librarian came, and no one even looked up from their work. It was like she didn't even exist.

She began tearing at the laces on her shoes, hoping that if she freed her feet it would be okay, but they seemed to be hopelessly knotted. She tried to pull her feet out anyway, but as she tried helplessly to free herself from this supernatural grip, a strange feeling began to wash over her. It was a sickeningly familiar wave of dread.

She froze, looked up, and there he was. The strange guy from the library.

From the feeling, she had half expected that he would be near, so she wasn't shocked, but neither was she relieved from having her suspicion confirmed. He was looming in the shadows of the shelves, peering out at her, in the particular row that led to her secret spot, the spot that he had stolen. It was like he was reminding her of what he had taken from.

It turned her panic into anger.

Right then and there she decided that this time was going to be different. The fear that had overcome her the last time at the library would not take her now. Of all the things she felt while looking at his face—many of them very unpleasant—she made sure that none of them was fear.

Eventually, the stranger removed himself from his resting place and began to make his way towards her. As he emerged from the shadows, she could finally see his face. He was paler than it had been the other day; his skin had turned a sickly shade of grey, like the skin of a corpse.

The wave of dread swelled into a feeling of involuntary sickness in the pit of her stomach. The students around her stirred; they began to feel it too. The closer he got, the more the feeling intensified, infiltrating every mind with its eerie command. Soon, students were fleeing their seats, leaving their belongings behind.

Elta just stared at him as he approached her, still fighting this overwhelming sense of fear. She couldn't run, but even if she could, she wouldn't. She had to face him.

He stopped a mere foot from her. The colour of his skin was truly horrible up close, and the pupils of his eyes were wide and dark, reminding her of bottomless pits. His mouth stretched into an unnatural grin as he leaned in towards her, putting his face within inches of her own. He smelled strongly of mould and dirt. She turned away in disgust.

Ignoring her discomfort, he reached out and touched her arm; the feeling rose even more, and now Elta was certain. That feeling was coming from him, like an aura made of every horrible thing she had ever felt, all of her fear, all of her hate, all of her sadness. He wasn't just coloured like death, he was Death.

But Elta was no stranger to death; she didn't fear it like the others did. She knew she could face what others feared. Even though the sensation made her feel physically sick, she turned back to face him.

And, in the moment she had turned away, he must've transformed; she jumped at the sight but did not avert her gaze. His face was horrible now, distorted into a wide, hellish grin and its once normal eyes fully blackened, with a bruising, purple tinge. He—it—was no longer human: it was a monster. She collected herself as she stared back into its empty pitted eyes, and pursed her lips to stop herself from vomiting. It made a strange noise that sounded halfway between a growl and a laugh—she couldn't tell which—at her expression.

So she hit it.

It was a clean punch, square in the cheek. It stumbled backwards, stunned for a moment and then came back towards her, still smiling as wide as ever. She lashed out again, infuriated by its mockery. She began to throw punches wildly, striking whatever came within reach. The thing began to cower from her unrelenting beating, wincing at every contact of fist on flesh.

Elta realized that at some point during her attack, her legs had been freed; they were no longer cemented to the floor of the library. She now advanced on the creature, pursuing it as it retreated. She fought furiously, pummelling it into the floor. The feeling of fear and disgust began to fade with each hit.

After a while, she stopped to study her handiwork. The being was now crumpled in a shivering heap on the floor, its brow knotted in pain. Its eyes were still horribly black, skin still sickly pale, and its mouth still unnaturally wide. She shuddered at the sight. It glanced at her, and the feeling of fear swelled again for a moment.

"I'm not scared of you!" She screamed into its face, rage flooding her veins. She kicked it in the throat.

It gurgled, coughed and then whispered, "I never meant to hurt you."

"Liar!" Elta raised her fist and struck out, making satisfying contact with its face, and the feeling of fear dissipated completely. The feeling of victory warmed her, but she noticed her fist was strangely cold.

How strange, she thought.

In reality, she had gotten so caught up in the violence of her dream that she had broken through the confines of sleep, and had thrown her clenched fist outside of her warm blanketed cocoon, right into the chilled air of the room. She emerged slowly from her dream and blinked stupidly at her revealed fist, still too sleepy to understand just how it had gotten so cold. She stared at it, turning it over and examining it.

Slowly, realization pulled her free from her nightmare. She remembered where she was, and what she had been doing... but she also noticed that, once again, it was colder than usual in the room, just like the day before.

Moving quietly, she sat up. She couldn't help but think that this scene was bizarrely similar. Once again, the room was dark and the fridge was open. Is this a dream within a dream? Elta wondered. Like before, she leaned forward, to get a better look; the faint glow of the fridge's light was still weak as ever.

And just as before, there was a person there, crouched in front of the fridge, pulling out bags of blood, piling them into their arms. They didn't seem to notice her stirring.

"Uh... Excuse me..." Elta whispered, not wanting to scare whoever it was. She would not scream this time.

The figure in front of the fridge, once again, whipped around to face her. Elta jumped at their quick movement, then squinted, trying to see through the darkness. The face that looked back at her from the shadows looked like it was twisted, pulled into a horrible mask. The image of a gargoyle, a horrific statue of stone, sprung to Elta's mind, the flesh of its face and mouth pulled back, teeth bared. Her mind froze with fear. She blinked, hard, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Of course, it was so dark that she couldn't be positive, but something inside told her that this wasn't... normal.

One of the bags slid out of the stranger's arms and landed on the ground with a sickly plop. The noise was slight, but it snapped Elta's mind out of its paralyzed state. She leapt off the bed, dashed across the room and threw herself against the light switch next to the door.

When she turned on the light, Elta's mouth fell open in shock. While she wasn't faced with the disfigured monster from her nightmare, waiting to pounce, what was standing there, eyes narrowed and watching, was just as horrible.

"I apologize," came the familiar voice, as he stooped down to pick up the fallen blood bag. "I never meant to hurt you."

It was the stranger from the library.

He was leaning against the now-closed door of the fridge, smirking, cradling bags of blood in his one arm. She stared back, like she was waiting for something, gaping at him like a suffocating fish.

"What?" Elta replied, breathlessly, too stunned to even process what he had said.

"I said, I'm sorry... For yesterday, when I woke you up and you fell out of bed," he said. "I would've apologized then, but I had to leave. I'm terribly sorry for my intrusion, and for disturbing you again."

Elta just stared at him. "What were you doing in the fridge?" she said, after a moment's pause.

He gave her a look of utter surprise, like the one he gave her when she claimed the spot in the library was hers. "I was asked to remove the old blood—" he jiggled the bags in his arms, "—by one of the nurses who work here. I believe it was your mother."

"Who are you?" she demanded, not acknowledging his answer. What god had cursed her, so that this was her life?

"Cyris," he said, nonchalantly. "I'm a volunteer." He didn't ask her name and she scowled at him, ironically thinking of him as rude.

She noticed he had moved closer. This stirred her blood with a flood of rage. "Who do you think you are?!" she growled.

"I'm Cyris," he repeated calmly, slowly. "I'm a volunteer here. But you already know that." Another smirk pulled his lips.

Elta winced, expecting... something... but what? For the dread to come again? But there was nothing, and she realized then that her conclusion that he was the one responsible had only been in her dream. She glanced away, turning just in time to see her mother round the corner and burst into the room. She was surprised to find her daughter flattened against the wall as she walked in.

"Oh!" she gasped, her voice shooting up an octave. "You're up!"

Elta responded with a nod. She hoped that she had slept long enough for her mother's shift to be over. She just wanted to get away from this place.

Her mother took in the scene she had interrupted, glancing between her awkward daughter and the strange stiffness of Cyris, who was still looming—and smirking—in the corner. Eventually her face broke into a smile; something about the smile made the hairs on the back of Elta's neck stand up. A different kind of dread began to creep through Elta.

"So you've finally met my daughter!" her mother said, her voice suddenly sweet and accommodating, her smile widening as she addressed Cyris.

"Yes, and unfortunately I woke her up again," Cyris confessed. He looked back at Elta. "But this time she didn't fall off the bed. Which I truly am sorry for. Really."

Elta just furrowed her brow, not budging from her place, still flattened against the wall. Her mother shot her a disapproving look. "That's alright," her mother said, in her stead. "She needed to be woken up anyway. My shift is over early today. Your help is quite a boon for us! I can take those now... I'll deal with them before we head out."

"Oh," Cyris said; Elta saw his eye twitch. "If you wish." He closed the door of the fridge behind him, jingling the contents inside, then walked over to Elta's mother and handed over the armful. And then he simply walked past them both, without so much as a farewell. Her mother, though she seemed to be a fan of the newcomer, looked stunned as Elta did.

Elta scoffed as she watched him walk down the hall and out of sight. She couldn't help but think he was the rudest person she had ever met.

✦

I hope you're enjoying the story so far! If you want to read the rest...

The rest of the book is no longer available on Wattpad. If you want to read the rest, you can purchase it (and its sequel AT DEATH'S SIDE) on my Ko-Fi.

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/yvetterussell | https://ko-fi.com/s/969f4caddc
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