Sara's room was like a shrine. 

Maybe when an accident happens to other families, they pack away the dead person's things. The books and stuffed animals and clothes all go into boxes and are packed in the attic. But Mom didn't do that. True, she had gone through the rest of the house and taken down all our family pictures, saying they made her too sad, but the room stayed the same.

It was almost eerie, walking in there. I did it sometimes though, just to remember her, when her face faded in my mind a little, and I felt like I was in danger of losing her forever. I would be a horrible brother if I forgot what my sister looked like.

The door creaked open, and I peered around the frame. I knew Mom wasn't in here, she was downstairs watching one of the old musicals she loves so much. I could hear the TV downstairs, blending with the noise of my bedroom TV. I left it on so she would think I was in my bedroom. I don't know what she'd say if she caught me in here, probably kick me out, afraid I would disturb something.

Her room used to smell like perfume and body lotion, or whatever thing she'd been spraying onto herself that day. Now it just smells sterile, like the bleach and dust cleaner Mom uses in here. It's always a little eerie in Sara's bedroom. It's like she's away at a friend's house. All her clothes are still on their hangers in the closet, a selection of sweaters, pants and colorful tops, just waiting to be worn again. Her shoes are lined up underneath in neat lines, sparkling high heels and scuffed sneakers with straggling laces. The bed is made. Sara had made it, the morning of the day she'd died, with the covers folded back and her stuffed animals in a solemn little row in front of her pillows. And it stayed that way.

I stood in the center of the room, allowing my thoughts to wonder. How many hours had she spent in front of her mirror? It was empty now, reflecting only myself and the light pink walls of the room. Her vanity table was messy, containers of makeup scattered across the surface, a fine looking makeup brush was leaning against a round black container of foundation, and her hairbrush sat on the edge of the table, just where she'd left it.

It was easy enough to imagine that Sara had just popped out to the corner store to get chocolate or something. She'd be back soon, to finish applying her makeup and do her hair, to go through the clothes in the closet and decide what outfit to wear today. My world hadn't fallen apart and exploded into a million pieces. Mom and Dad were downstairs chuckling at the corny old movie they were watching, we were back in Kamloops and I was about to run over to Carly's place and Sara was going to make fun of me as I left, call Carly my girlfriend.

I ran my hands over the different fabrics in the closet, feeling the difference between satin and wool, letting the textures pass underneath my fingers.

"Lucas?" Mom's voice, calling from downstairs. I pushed open the bedroom door and yelled back, "Yeah?"

"Bedtime, You have school in the morning."

"Mom, I'm doing homework," I called back, hoping she couldn't register where exactly my voice was coming from.

"I can hear the TV up there, Lucas." Mom's voice was cross.

"Alright alright," I called back, closing the door to Sara's bedroom as quietly as I could. 

I darted across the hall into my bedroom, slamming the door shut on anything else she might have to say. Heaving a sigh I flicked the remote at the TV, sending the screen into darkness. It was always a battle now. I didn't want to go to bed, since I had at least one "dead eyed zombie dream" per week, and I was due soon. I guess I was acting like a little kid, afraid to go to bed and throwing a tantrum because he might have nightmares. But my nightmares weren't just some imaginary monster in the closet, or drooling creatures under the bed. These monsters were real, and it seemed like they could be anyone, at any time. 

I stripped down to my boxers, letting my jeans lie in a crumpled pile on the carpet. I'd wear them tomorrow anyways, so why bother putting them in the drawer? I noticed the white corner of a piece of paper in my jeans pocket and it made me smile. I plucked it out and unfolded it. It was the cow and chicken drawings we'd done. It made me think of Morgan, how cute she'd looked when she was fighting to keep from giggling. I folded the paper back up and tucked it back into the pocket of my jeans. It was probably stupid, but I didn't want to throw that scrap of paper away. I sighed and slid under the sheets, shut my eyes and waited for the nightmares to come, trying to think of Morgan instead.

I woke up, seconds later it seemed, with a heavy weight on my chest, unable to move. Sleep paralysis. The first time I'd had it I was twelve. I thought I was dying, but now I just wait for it to go away. I waited, my eyes still shut, trying to keep calm. The weight on my chest shifted, and a voice said."Geeze, you are no sleeping beauty."

My eyes shot open, and someone's hand clamped down on my mouth, blocking my scream. Someone was sitting on me, their silhouette a vague outline in the moonlight."Relax."

A girl's voice. The figure reached out an arm, snapping her fingers. Light flooded the room; my bed side lamp had flicked on somehow. The girl sitting on my chest was slim, straight dark hair framed a pale and perfect face. Ruby colored lips, big dark eyes...having this girl sitting on my chest would usually have been a dream come true, if you ignored the fact that she'd broken into my house and I didn't know her. Wait a second...

"Aden?" I squeaked out, "is that you?"

As she moved, her dark hair swung, and a piece tickled my nose, which I wiggled frantically, unable to move my arms while she was pinning me to the mattress.

"Hi," she said casually, as if the situation we were in was perfectly normal.

I hesitated. "Two things..."

"Yes?"

'One, why are you here? And two, do you mind getting off? You're crushing me a little."

She scowled, but Aden rolled sideways off of me and sat up on the bed, crossing her legs.

"Abaddon sent me, I mean, he'd already sent me to your stupid class, but he sent me now because you hung up on him last time he called. He doesn't like being hung up on."

I sat up, eyeing her warily. "So, let me get this sorted out...that Abaddon dude thinks God is trying to kill me."

"He is." She was looking around my room now, at the warhammer figures on the shelf and the poster of the half naked girl I had on my wall. It was weird, I had to fight my mother tooth and nail to keep that up. If I ever forgot and left my door open I could count on coming home to bare walls. But now I had the sudden urge to rip it off the wall myself. Did she think I was gross now? "Why?" I said, hoping her dark eyes would make their way back to me. "Why would he want to kill me? I'm just....Lucas." A thought struck me. "Is it because I'm an atheist?"

Aden laughed. "If God wasted time striking down every atheist on the planet he wouldn't get anything done at all."

"So then, why?"

She shrugged, "You're special, the Mahwet has a plan for you."

"The Mahwet?" I said, even more confused now.

"The one you call Abaddon."

"Oh, so..." I stared at her, trying to spot some sign, some hint of otherworld about her. "You're an angel of death? You don't look like one. I mean, aren't you supposed to have wings...or shine or something?"

"I'm not tinkerbell," Aden said crossly.

"Prove it then," I said. "How do I know you're not just a mental patient who broke in? Sprinkle some angel dust or something."

She glared at me, "I don't have angel dust or wings, nor do I glow. I could rip your soul right out of your body though. Would that be a good trick?"

I shut up, thoroughly intimidated, and Aden sighed and crossed her arms. Her expression softened a little and she opened her mouth, maybe to apologize, but before she could speak there was a thump from my closet.

I tensed, and Aden leapt up. If I'd wanted a trick I got it then. She moved in a blur, so fast I was still looking at the sheets where she'd been sitting while she was across the room yanking open the closet door.

"Got you!" She reached in and dragged someone out of my closet. A someone with blonde curls, huge blue eyes and a sheepish grin on her face.

"Morgan?" I said in astonishment.

"Hi Lucas."

"You've been sitting in my closet this entire time?"

"No." She laughed, as if that were a silly thing to say. "I just arrived."

"Through my closet?"

"Any doorway will do, really."

"Malake," Aden spat at her. "I knew it! What do you think you're doing? I've warned you already. He's my assignment."

Morgan smiled. "I'm helping you."

"I don't need your help," Aden spat. "And you should go back before your boss finds out you're gone. He must know you're aiding his enemy. It's a wonder you're still in one piece."

"My "boss" as you put it, is out of control. I'm doing what I have to."

"Getting in good with him you mean," Aden said. "We both know you're kind isn't all that selfless."

Morgan just shrugged, her blue eyes scanning the bedroom with interest. Suddenly I felt naked, like my person space was on display for these two strangers to see. And they were strangers, even Morgan, who I'd thought I was getting to know. It made me angry, thinking about that, and I stood up. "Both of you get out."

They looked at me, shocked, as if they'd forgotten I possessed the power of speech. Aden looked liked she was about to argue, when a sharp rap on my bedroom door froze us all. My mother's voice drifted through the door, "Lucas? Do you have the TV on again?"

I felt my stomach clench in panic, both girls were backing towards my closet, ready to hide if the door began to open.

"Yeah, mom." I called. "Sorry, couldn't sleep. I'll turn it off."

There was a pause, and I wondered if she was going to come in, like she used to do. Sit on my bed and talk to me, ask me if I was okay. She hadn't done that since Sara's accident.

"Okay," her voice floated through the door. "Good night."

" 'Night." I waited until I heard her slippers pad down the hallway before turning back to the two girls."Out! Get out!"

Morgan shrugged and turned to walk back into my closet. 

Aden frowned."Alright, but I'll be watching." She turned and followed Morgan, shutting the closet door behind them.

"What are you doing?" I jumped out of bed and crossed the room, yanking open the closet door."You can just..."

Silence, the inside of my closet was dark, filled with clothing and the jumbled outline of cardboard boxes. Nothing moved. I pulled the cord, and the bare light bulb swung back and forth, making shadows jump wildly in the messy confines of my closet. The girls were gone. The only indication that someone had been in there was that one of the cardboard box flaps had been bent down. I knew right away which box it was, and my chest constricted in painful anger.

When Sarah had died, Mom had gone through a stage where she'd taken all the photographs off the walls and packed them into boxes in the attic. I'd managed to save a few photos and hide them here. I peeled the flap back further and shuffled through the glossy photos.

Twelve year old Sarah at the park, sitting on a bench with me, both of us proudly holding up ice cream cones. I'm grinning ear to ear in the photo, my mouth stained with chocolate. Another photo showed us at the fair a year later, Sarah posing in front of the horse stall. I'm in my Dad's arms, recoiling in terror from the giant animal's head. 

The third photo I held onto longer, the only reason it still existed is because Mom never saw it. Sarah and her friend Jessica are wearing huge smiles, holding up bottles of beer. Cheers. All around them is a blur of elbows, knees and shoulders. Humanity crowding in on all sides. They were on some dance floor somewhere, maybe the same one they went to the next week. That night, when the before and after timeline was set in motion. That's how my shattered little family thinks now. There is only before the accident, and after.

I studied Jessica's face, remembering her. She'd come over all the time and she and Sarah would be shut up in her room giggling for hours. It used to annoy me. I'd sit in my room with my headphones turned all the way up so I wouldn't have to listen to them. Now the silence seemed as loud as a scream. I wondered if Jessica's family knew only before and after.

Sarah, I miss you so damn much sometimes...

I rubbed my eyes, willing myself not to cry. I'd done enough of that already. It never helped.

"Why did you have to go and be stupid like that?" I whispered into the darkness. "Why the hell did you go and get yourself killed?" Like she could hear me, yeah right. Sometimes it felt like she might be lingering, hanging out, watching over us. Most of the time I knew that was stupid. It still helped a little, to pretend she was there, to talk to her. "I'm going to bed," I said.

I put the photographs down gently and shut the flaps of the box, sealing the memories in. Had Morgan sat on the floor of my closet and looked at pictures of my dead sister? The idea made me angry and defensive. How dare she break in here and look through my personal stuff? I shut the closet door and marched back to bed. Forget her, forget her stupid red sweater. And Aden too, who didn't have anything nice to say about anyone. I decided I wouldn't talk to either of them tomorrow. I drifted off with sleepy self righteousness, and just before darkness settled over me like a velvet cloak, I felt something soft envelope me like an embrace, a feeling of peace and contentment, a gentle presence of reassurance.

Thanks for reading guys! Some of you must have seen this coming, right? haha. Let me know in the comments below if you guessed it beforehand. Also, feel free to message me or post on my wall, I'm always happy to chat! =)