The question as to if I was dying was hard to answer.

Was I? It certainly felt that way. Maybe I was. After all, I had been in an accident. Or so I thought. Were my thoughts even relevant, or logical? Was I losing my mind?

My insanity was the only logical reason as to why I was seeing a man with glowing eyes hiding in the shadows as my mother seemed not to notice his presence or my bleeding eye.

Nothing felt right, especially my mother's arms wrapped around my shoulders.

"Have a good night, sweetheart. Pleasant dreams," Mother said faintly, kissing the top of my head. I winced, having never been witness to her affection. She'd always just ignored my presence and never acknowledged my existence, so what had changed?

I couldn't help watching as she left the room in a daze. Something was different, was wrong, and it had started with the man in the corner.

"Finally," the stranger heaved a sharp sigh, and I saw his silhouette drape across the armchair. "Your mother is a very stubborn woman, you know that?"

My skin itched with the blood trickling down my hand. "How so?"

"I've wasted so much energy getting through to her." Getting through to her? What exactly does that entail? The man cloaked in darkness chuckled briefly, and his eyes blazed. "You're awfully calm for a girl with a bloody eye talking to a strange being," he noted.

Who is this man? "Strange being?" Why is his voice so powerful? My head is throbbing but I feel nothing but serenity. "What do you want from me?"

"Oh, my sweet Ovia, I crave your soul. The human eyes usually reflect the soul, but your soul is so colourful . . . it's beautiful," he moaned as if he were in physical pain. I flinched as the burning eyes swam in front of me, and hands curled around my upper arms. "Oh, won't you please give me your soul? I can't wait to take it from you."

I wanted to run, but I couldn't. His face was illuminated by the night, unnaturally perfect. My eyes ran over his prominent features, not even pausing at his red eyes and black irises. There was something inhuman about him, something sadistic about his smile, and something controlling in his eyes. He was beautiful.

"Who are you?"

His piercing laugh struck me with a headache. He pulled away, standing in the centre of the room. Light fell over his thin frame, turning his hair almost lilac. "I, my dear, am Death," he smiled as he casually whipped out a gun and pointed it at my chest.

My chest rose and fell unsteadily, and I weeped in panic. This couldn't be the end. Was he really Death? Was he going to take my life after saving it? I couldn't remember how to move my limbs and I cowered with my back against the wall.

I can't. I can't die, not like this. "What are you doing? Why are you going to kill me? Why are you here?" My calmness in the situation was wearing, and I found myself hyperventilating. His sharp chuckle only increased my anxiety.

His beautiful smile kept me still, but I watched his finger itching to pull the trigger. "I'm here for you, Ovia."

And with that, he aimed at my heart and fired.