TAKE MY HAND, TAKE MY WHOLE LIFE TOO
by Arya Muralidharan
ABSOLUTELY NOT, death thundered.
“But—” Riley started.
I SAID, ABSOLUTELY NOT, said death, emphasizing the “absolutely” and the “not.” THAT MEANS NO.
“Listen, sir. I mean ma’am. I mean—”
I AM death, said death.
“…Okay,” Riley said slowly. “But Death—”
IT’S death.
“That’s…what I said? Don’t you have other people to carry off to the netherworld?”
IT’S The Netherworld.
“Whatever! But aren’t there, like, lots of old people dying of old age and stuff? Or, I don’t know, ants getting eaten by spiders? Shouldn’t you be out there collecting their souls—or whatever you do—instead of going after sweet, innocent, thirteen-year-old girls?” Riley tried.
I AM HERE. I AM THERE. I AM EVERYWHERE, explained death.
“You’re the Beatles?” asked Riley.
I AM—
“—death, I get it,” Riley said. The sun continued to beat down, but she shuddered as a sudden chill came over her. Actually, “chill” wasn’t the right word—not that she would know, having never set foot outside of Florida—but it was a weird feeling. Almost like…an eye roll? An eye roll that could give you goosebumps.
IT’S death, death repeated, sounding a little annoyed.
“Okay, how is that not exactly what I said? Wait, no, I’m getting off track. My point is, you have to let me go back. I’m too young to die, and the season finale of PLL comes out next week!”
YOU ARE TOO YOUNG FOR PRETTY LITTLE LIARS, NOT TO WALK WITH ME.
Riley bit back a scoff. It almost sounded like something her dad would have said, if he’d ever caught her watching PLL—or any show rated TV-14—behind his back. He would have spent days lecturing her about how watching dark things makes you think dark thoughts. Then, he would’ve hugged her too tight and told her that he wasn’t ready for her to grow old and cynical like him. Riley almost smiled at the thought, before she remembered what was happening. Her shoulders drooped.
“I don’t want to leave my dad,” Riley said quietly. “I’m all he has—had—and I can’t leave him alone.”
HE IS NOT ALONE. I AM WITH HIM.
Riley frowned. “No, you’re here with me.”
I AM HERE, THERE—
“—and everywhere, yeah, no, I got that. I just thought you meant you were wherever things were dying. But my dad’s fine. I mean, he’s probably not fine, he’ll be sad that I’m,” she waved a hand, “but he’s fine, he has to be, right?”
death said nothing.
“Right?” Riley whispered.
The clouds in front of her shifted. They didn’t form any coherent shapes, but somehow, they looked like a comforting hand was on her shoulder.
HE IS WITH ME, death said gently.
It took a few seconds, or possibly ages, for the statement’s meaning to land; when it did, it embedded itself in her heart, her lungs, her skin. Riley screamed, then cried, then screamed again.
“Let us go!” she sobbed, voice breaking. “Please. We’ve been through everything, we don’t deserve to die! Not yet!”
NO ONE DESERVES TO. NO ONE DESERVES NOT TO. BUT YOUR TIME IS UP.
Riley sucked in a breath, which tasted like the hand on her shoulder moving to grasp her own hand and pull her along somewhere.
“No, no, no!” she pleaded, over and over, until there was no longer anyone to plead and the last echoes of her cries faded into nothingness.
As the sky shifted back to its true form—pitch-black, dotted with bright stars high above two corpses that still clutched at each other—the clouds that Riley had noticed turned into mere wisps.
The scent of a resigned sigh lingered for but a moment before it, too, disappeared.