Running From Shadows

I thought I could outrun him.

The first morning after Azrael appeared, I packed a bag with clothes, toiletries, and the few essentials I could grab on short notice. My apartment felt smaller somehow, as if the shadows in the corners were thicker, moving, watching. Every sound made me flinch — a creak in the floorboards, the distant hum of traffic, even my own heartbeat.

I drove through the city like a ghost, windows up, radio blasting, anything to drown out the memory of his silver eyes. But the world outside felt wrong. The streets were emptier than they should have been. People moved slower, their eyes vacant. A chill ran through me despite the heat of the car, and I realized the impossible: he was everywhere.

Not physically. But the air carried him. Every shadow seemed to lean toward me. Every gust of wind whispered his name.

I pulled over at a gas station, trying to convince myself it was paranoia. I was alive. I had survived. He couldn’t touch me here.

But the moment I stepped out, the temperature dropped. Frost clung to the edges of the pumps, and a soft footstep echoed behind me. My heart thudded so violently it hurt.

“Azrael!” I shouted, spinning around.

No one was there. Only the black mist curling along the ground, moving like it had a mind.

“Stop running,” his voice came from everywhere and nowhere, low and smooth, brushing against my ears like ice.

I bolted to the car, fumbling with the keys. The fog seemed to chase me, wrapping around the tires as if trying to slow me down. The engine roared to life, and I drove, hands trembling on the wheel, vision blurry with rain.

I didn’t notice the figure on the bridge until I nearly hit him.

He was standing in the center of the road, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me. Silver. Cold. Deadly. Yet… impossibly mesmerizing.

I slammed the brakes. Screeching metal on wet asphalt. My car skidded to a halt just feet from him. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“You can’t escape,” he said simply.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed. “I’m not yours!”

His lips curved faintly. “You’ve always been mine. From the first breath to the last, even if you didn’t know it.”

The mist surged, licking the car like water. Panic clawed at my chest. I wanted to run, to hide, to fight — but something in me, something foolish and dangerous, wanted him.

“I… I don’t want this!” My voice cracked, but my body wouldn’t turn away.

“You already want it,” he said softly, stepping closer. The air around him shimmered with cold, and frost formed on the windshield. “I can feel it in your soul. You belong to me, whether you fight or fall willingly.”

My pulse spiked. I realized then the horrifying truth: I was trapped. Not by chains, not by walls, not by the world — but by desire, fear, and something older and darker than anything mortal could comprehend.

And as the rain poured harder, blurring the night into black water, I knew this was only the beginning.

I couldn’t escape Death.

Because Death wanted me alive.

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