Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Onyx
Fuck, the last few days have been so weird. I even started wearing glasses to hide from whatever karma god is out there trying to strike me down.
“Whose coffee did I piss in?” I mutter to myself, shaking my head as I walk.
I’m getting odd glances, but it could be the sunglasses I’m wearing even though it’s overcast as fuck.
I doubt it’s because I’m talking to myself.
Everyone does this in my city, that’s not new.
I also have my hands stuffed in my pockets with an angry pout, and I’m an overall emo thunderbolt in a sea of happy humans.
My earbuds have been playing angsty music all day while I worked, and I think it’s infecting my entire mood. Or, I could just be a fucked up guy who always has a black cloud following me.
I don’t understand how I’ve had so many close calls. There’s a part of me that wants to stay home and not leave the house, but I swear the outlet sparked at me this morning when I was plugging in my earbud case to make sure it had a full charge.
Not to be dramatic or anything, but I don’t think anywhere is safe. I may as well work at my favorite coffee shop, though the barista who always knows my coffee order mysteriously died. Apparently, he started coughing and went belly up.
Now, I have to get used to a whole new person. I fucking hate new people! I’m awkward, and I’m always worried I’ll end up ordering my drink wrong. Then, I’ll be too nervous to tell them what happened because of my anxiety, which will lead to me shitting my brains out in the coffee shop bathroom.
Ugh, and then out of mortification, I’ll need to find a new coffee shop due to the shame! Argh! Why am I like this?
I’m in my head, making up all kinds of crazy outcomes while I’m crossing the street, completely not paying attention. It’s disassociation at its best, allowing me to spiral out about things that will never fucking happen.
All I know is the little light tells me to walk, so I’m going to follow it.
“Move, you idiot!” a voice yells, shoving me out of the way.
Gasping, I run forward from the momentum, turning as I hear the honking of cars in the intersection. The light is green for the traffic flooding through the street, with lots of people trying to get home for the day.
Jaw dropping, I watch as the guy who pushed me out of the way is hit by the bus driving at full speed, with no one to save him.
What are the odds that this Final Destination shit keeps happening to me? Bringing my hand to my mouth, I force my feet to continue moving until I’m able to climb onto the curb.
“Oh fuck,” a woman beside me says, eyes wide. “You were so lucky. That could have been you!”
“Yeah,” I breathe, shaking my head as I take off my sunglasses and pull up the hood of my sweatshirt.
My heart is thundering in my chest, and my hands are shaking. The blood in the street is very apparent as the bus keeps going, making me wonder if the brakes went out.
“Look! The driver is slumped at the wheel,” someone else yells.
This is a fucking nightmare. The man who helped me is dragged along the front of the bus until his body is torn in half. I gag as his legs and waist tumble free, and the bus crashes into several more cars who were unlucky enough to be crossing the intersection.
Lucky… Oh shit, could I just be having a really incredible streak of luck?! First, I had my cancer cured, then I missed getting hit by a branch that had it out for me, and now the bus?
Wow.
“I need to play the lotto,” I mumble under my breath. I’m not perfect, and I’ll never say that I am.
It’s incredibly morbid to immediately decide I might be invincible, but what the hell else am I supposed to think? No one is looking at me as they all stare in horror at the scene in front of us. That shit is grim.
There’s nothing I can do to help, and I don’t feel like being asked a million questions by the police in a tiny room. Also, the bus finally stopped moving. It’s no longer a hurtling hunk of steel intent on killing everyone in sight, so that’s the upside right?
There has to be an upside, people.
Of course, it only took eight moving cars and several parked ones since the dead driver’s foot was heavy and stuck on the fuel pedal, but hey, it’s done now.
The passengers’ fearful faces are looking out the windows, and they clearly want to get the hell off the bus. I don’t blame them at all. Who gets on public transit only to pray and cry they’ll be able to get right off?
Ten out of ten don’t recommend it.
Someone manages to open the doors to the bus, and the paramedics are climbing on to move the dead bus driver as I edge around everyone watching to walk away.
If I don’t make my escape now, it won’t happen.
Mind reeling at the insanity of the day, I pass up a convenience store across the street for one in the direction I’m headed. I’m a little too shaky still to risk it, even though I feel a bit invincible right now.
I used to love the Final Destination movies, and I feel like a final boy in a movie. You know, the one that survives the serial killer’s murder spree. The best friend, the boyfriend, the bullies all die, but the final boy survives.
I’m that mother fucking guy.
My lips twitch into a rare smile as I walk into the convenience store and ask for a lottery ticket. I know they’re choosing winners tonight at seven, which means I’ll have something to look forward to.
It’s almost five o’clock, my work day is over, I’m ready to kick back and enjoy myself. Lottery ticket in hand, I begin to walk back to my apartment, making sure I pay attention to my surroundings. I’ve had too many close calls for comfort.
It’s amazing what you notice when you’re actually paying attention. A cute couple gets engaged as I walk past, people open doors for others, and I get smiled at often as I casually make eye contact.
It’s kind of nice. I often complain that I don’t make connections with people in the city, but I think I’m the problem. Taylor Swift cheekily croons in my mind, brought to life as I begin to walk past a restaurant.
Rolling my eyes at myself for knowing all the words, I stop walking to glance at the menu. It’s a steak restaurant, and while it’s a little more expensive than I usually go for, the smells coming from inside call to me.
“For luck,” I murmur under my breath as I open the door and walk inside.
The restaurant isn’t too busy since the dinner rush hasn’t started yet, and I’m reminded of how crotchety I am. I’ll typically go in around this time because I forget to eat, and no one needs to deal with my low blood sugar.
My stomach chooses this time to complain violently because I skipped lunch as I tell the hostess that I need a table for one, but she simply smiles at me.
“Let’s get you to a table so we can get you some food,” she says kindly. “We can’t have you fainting on us, can we?”
Grateful she’s not going to shame me for my stomach’s behavior, I follow her to a table. The tablecloths are white, the waiters are wearing pressed white shirts with a black vest over them and black pants, while the hostess wears a black dress.
This place is really nice.
Sitting down at the table, I continue to look around with appreciative eyes. The decor is dark wood, watercolor paintings, and a wine bar at the far end of the room.
“Hello, sir,” the waiter says, nodding at me. “May I give you the menu?”
“Yes, please,” I say with wide eyes.
Taking it from him, I order a beer, and he nods without judgement as he says he’ll be right back. I rarely drink, but after the last few days, I feel like it’s warranted.
Looking over the menu, I decide on a ribeye, scalloped potatoes, and baby carrots. When the waiter comes back with my beer, I place my order, and then people watch as patrons slowly begin to fill the restaurant.
I came at the perfect time. There are business men negotiating deals, a man who has to be here with his mistress due to the way he keeps looking around to see if anyone recognizes him, and then there’s me.
Just a regular guy here to celebrate being alive.
As the waiter brings me a knife for my steak, it slips out of his hand and heads toward my lap. Gasping I spread my legs, and the waiter’s jaw drops as it stabs the chair right between my legs.
The knife was eyeing my dick! Death by castration is a terrible way to go. The waiter winces as he reaches between my legs to grab the knife and pull it from the wood of the chair.
“I’m so so sorry, sir,” he hisses. “I’ll get you a new knife. Your food will be right out, and it’ll be comped due to my clumsiness.”
“It’s…fine,” I rasp, my heart racing as I nod.
Honestly, nothing is sacred. Not even my dick.
Someone else brings out my knife, and I can hear yelling coming from the kitchen. Ugh, I hope they didn’t drop my food. Thankfully, my steak dinner comes out without an issue, though I’m told I’ll have another waiter to serve me.
Apparently, my previous server had to go home with a serious injury. As long as my current server doesn’t try to cut my dick off or kill me, I’ll survive.
I make sure to cut small bites of my food and chew thoroughly, not only to fully enjoy the experience, but also so I won’t choke. Everything tastes amazing, plus it was free, so I have nothing to complain about, which is a first for me.
I practically float home with happiness, and it’s time to check the lottery numbers by the time I get there. Nervously, I load the website to check to see if I won, fairly certain that even my luck can’t be that good.
Digging into my pockets for my ticket, I toss my phone onto my bedside table as I look.
“Come on, come on. Where is it?” I groan. The thin piece of paper whispers against my fingers, and I grin as I pull it out. “There you are, fucker! Hell yes.”
Picking up my phone again, I begin to check the numbers, trying to figure out how many I need in order to win big. My eyes widen as I find that I have two, three, oh fuck five numbers that are the same!
I didn’t get the big number, but hey, I won over a million dollars!
Laughing in disbelief, I put the paper in a safe place next to my phone and head to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the beer is running through my system, and I really need to piss. I have a happy buzz between the alcohol and the excitement of winning the lottery, and I can’t stop smiling.
Pulling out my dick and aiming it at the toilet, I also make sure to lift the seat so I won’t hear my mother yell at me. I swear, the things that go through my head are ridiculous. It doesn’t matter how old I get, I still hear her voice in my head.
Sighing, I start to piss, and begin to think about taking a nap. I’m starting to feel sleepy. Glancing down, I curse as I see that I pissed on the floor.
“Goddamnit,” I mutter. I swear I try not to step in it, but it’s as if my foot is pushed toward it, and I yell in fear as I slip.
I can’t catch myself or regain my balance as I fall forward, and the piss filled toilet bowl comes flying toward my face as I slam my head into the side of the toilet.
Everything goes black, and time doesn’t seem to have any meaning. I kind of drift until I find myself standing in my bathroom.
“What? How?” I don’t understand as I look around. It’s as if my mind is trying to protect myself from something, but I’m not sure what. Wasn’t I just falling? Am I that tired that I’m hallucinating things now? Maybe I should go lay down.
“Of all the ways for someone to go, this one’s quite embarrassing,” a low, deep voice chuckles. “I’d have to say, in all my thousands of years collecting souls, this would be a first of its kind for me.”
Oh fuck. That voice. My cock twitches in anticipation. My semi hard cock that's hanging out in the wind for all to see.
Confused on what he’s talking about, I look down at… me? I’m on the ground, face first in the toilet bowl. A toilet bowl full of piss. You have got to be fucking kidding me!
“Ah, man! No fucking fair!” I yell, tucking my cock back into my ghostly body. “You said I could live. Are you going back on our deal, Bane? That’s not very charitable.”
“I’m a demon,” he says with a laugh. “I didn’t lie, not exactly.
You just didn’t read the fine print. You had a month of your life, cancer free.
I’ve been watching you enjoy yourself entirely too much, so I decided to see how else you could kill yourself.
Who almost gets hit by a bus, survives, and then slips in his own piss?
Oh my devil, Lucifer is really going to enjoy this! ”
The Devil? Lucifer? Oh fuck, I’m in so much trouble.
“I’m not ready to die!” I yell. Bane simply shrugs, bends down to pick up my body, and throws it over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. This is so fucking bizarre. I’m here, but also there?
“Honestly, the fucking toilet took you out,” he snorts. “Your body and soul belong to me from now on. To do with as I please. It’s not my fault that you didn’t read the fine print.”
My dick is still out, smushed against his shoulder, and my wet, pissed soaked hair is dripping onto the tile floor. This can’t be fucking real right now.
“I can assure you, this is very much real,” he says. Wait, can he read my mind?
“Can you read my mind?” I shoot him a glaring look, so damn pissed off about this whole situation. I was cheated out of my second chance at life. He can’t do this!
“You need to work on your poker face, Little Human. Your face telegraphs what you’re thinking. Now, come. We must be going. Let's go home.”
“Home?” I squeak out as he grabs my spirit wrist.
“Well, home, for now. I can promise, it’s the best place to stay in Hell,” Bane says.
A black hole opens where my shower usually is, and he yanks me in, ignoring my scream as we fall into the darkness. His deep chuckle seems to surround me, filling me with want and terror.
“I forgot to tell you the first step is a little rough. Oops,” he says.
I’m attached to a sardonic grim reaper who’s possessive and doesn’t play by the rules. This is not what I expected when I woke up this morning.