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Four hundred and twenty three years. It's been four hundred and twenty three FUCKING YEARS. I'm calm. I'm fine. Everything is fine. I look down the barrel and see him.

"Give me one good reason not to pull the trigger right now, Sam," I say to the asshole at the other end of my gun. "Just one goddamn good reason."

"Fucking do it," he snaps back. "It's not like it will do anything. We're fucking cursed."

I pull the trigger and send the bullet between his stupid eyes. He slumps forward and his forehead bounces off the gun before falling to the floor. I knew he was right, but it always made me feel better to kill him anyways. Ever since he'd drunk that fucking Draught of the Undying. It was supposed to be Death's Draught. Simple. Kill him. Instead it bound his undying soul to the closest being to him. And that was me. Freshly after drinking an immortality potion. Fuck my unending life.

"At least you were quick that time," Sam says as he gets up and brushes himself off. The wound between his brows had already healed. He wiped the blood off of his face with a rag from a nearby table. "Now, you know why I'm here and I can't leave without it."

"Well, it sounds like we'll be here for awhile then. I'm not giving it to you."

"Carly, just be a reasonable fucking person for once in your life. That's it. Just once. I'm not asking you to change who you are. Just to be a reasonable person one time."

"Anything you call reasonable is obviously lunacy. Don't make me kill you again. Leave."

We were standing in one of my stores downtown. Being an immortal, you collect quite a lot of wealth over time. As it stands, I have seventeen stores in downtown alone. How he found me here was a mystery. And he wants what is in my pocket. And he isn't getting it.

"You know, if I ever told people what you do to me, you could go to jail for a long time," he says. It was an empty threat. I own the courts. This is my city. He just fucking lives here.

"Maybe in prison I'd never have to see your fucking face again," I spit as I crossed the store to open the door. "Now, leave."

"Just give me the Clover, Carly." I cringe a little at the sound of my name coming out of his mouth.

"Stop saying my name," I snap. "And you're not getting the fucking Clover. Eat my fucking ass and get out!" He lunges for me and tackles me to the ground. I grapple out and snap his arm. "I have seven different blackbelts, Sam. Stop being so fucking stupid." I stand up and kick him in the broken arm and hear him gasp in pain. Good.

Sure enough, though, the arm heals itself and he stands back up and jumps up before putting his hands up for a fight. Great. He swings at me and I catch his wrist and snap his arm again. I hit him in the gut with my elbow before taking him over my back and slamming him to the ground. I stomp on his head and twist the arm, ripping it out of the socket in the process. He hollered in pain. How does someone live for over four hundred years and not take any self-defense classes? This is just sad. I follow him to the floor and snap his neck. It will only buy me a minute of silence, but I'm going to take what I can get. I sit on the floor and try to find my center.

Sooner than expected, his bones mend and he jumps back up like a fucking kangaroo.

"Okay, that one wasn't as fast as the gun. That actually hurt. A lot."

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" I yell. He knows he's not getting the Clover. Ever again. I don't know why he insists on trying me.

"Carly, just give me the Clover. You can take it back whenever you want. I just need it for like, thirty minutes. Long enough to buy a lottery ticket and win. That's it. You've been holding onto it for over a century now! Stop being such a selfish cunt and share the fucking thing!"

I stand up and look at him. How fucking dare he. I kick him in the side of the head and catch his head as he's falling to the ground. I step over him so I'm standing over his kneeling body with his head in the crook of one of my arms.

"Call me a cunt again. I fucking dare you."

"Cunt," he spits out as I choke the life out of him. I snap his neck again and drop him down. I grab his leg and begin dragging him outside of the shop. I drag him out into the middle of the street in the hope that someone will run him over. I turn around, walk into my shop, and lock the door. Every day I have to see him is another day that I need burnt from my memory. Today was no different.

I pick up my phone and call the police.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"Hi, this is Carly Rae. I'm inside of my shop, Ascension, on the corner of Fourth and Main and some maniac is trying to beat my door down. Can someone come take care of him?"

"Yes ma'am, Ms. Rae. We'll have someone to you in just a moment."

Another night in jail would do Sam some good. And it would keep him away from me for just a little longer. Just one night.

"Carly, let me the fuck in!"

Just one fucking night.

[Poem]

Cheers to eternity,

we poured it down the hatch.

A swollen throat, one final note,

and that was to be that.

For one of us would walk forever,

and one of us could rest. But damned we were, now stuck together.

It was just a fucking test.

That so called witch, that stupid bitch,

Out to have a little fun.

"One to sleep, and one to keep,

a body forever young."

And I cared not, which was my lot,

I grabbed the potion on the left.

Down the hatch, I was the catch,

And his punishment was my death.

And then I slept.

In darkness, I found peace.

The cycle broken. Pieces,

scattered beautifully against

a black nothing. I saw glimpses

of him. I saw all of me. In shards

like stars drifting,

shifting.

"But be warned, lovers scorned,

do not look too closely."

There was a pattern in the breaks.

I shut my eyes, but it was blinding.

Grinding my serenity.

Let me be.

I heard his laughter, the night after,

we shared our first kiss.

I saw his grin, felt the stubble of his chin,

Dear God what is this?

The cracks collide and coincide,

FUCK CLOSE YOUR EYES

REST

TESS

Rest

assured, the shards blurred,

my darkness swept away.

Please

stay.

Try as I might, I'm in the light,

in a body I know too well.

For we both died, the groom and bride,

and his body is my hell.

So I leave him clues, in threes and twos,

to remind him I'm fucking here.

And the look I get, from my dear Brett,

Is haunted in the mirror.

Clicking, clacking. The soft sound of water drips down upon the stone floor in the beggars gallow.

He sits there, across from a woman with long curled horns, red skin. Her entire body echoes with residual flames.

“So. someone’s been busy, huh?”

“That’s your opening, Trevor? Still bad with words?” she replied with a smirk, that soon dissolved upon hearing him sigh.

Trevor leaned back into his chair. Comfortable, but a bit stiff.

“I don’t want to fight, Naveah. We haven’t seen each other in eons. I am a different man. I’m no longer that boy.” He finally said, letting himself lose his own control. The air around him chilled slowly, a stark contrast to the heat of the other side of the room.

“So now you don’t want to fight? Good. maybe you’ve actually changed.”

“Being a servant of death would do that, but you already knew that. We decided on our choices back then, yknow? I’m happy where I am.”

“ Do you still miss… us?” she said, in a sudden moment of sincerity.

There is a solemn silence, the room suddenly feeling too quiet for both of them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he replied.

“Yeah. although, it’s probably less likely it would work, right? You are now the only servant of life, right? The goddess probably won’t enjoy me being ‘Interfering’ with your work” he said, letting himself chuckle a bit

“Probably not… but she doesn’t have to know, does she? Yours won’t know if I don’t say anything. Mine won’t know either?”

“Those are dangerous words, Naveah… well.. Let’s do this one more time. Hi. I’m Trevor Hishoka.”

“And I’m Naveah Hardwood. It’s nice to meet you, Trevor. Let’s get a drink.”

And years down the line, life and death are closer than ever. The new servants seem to always be at each other's throat, but unbeknownst to all, they still love each other.

They just weren’t ready back then.

Love, love, love this!

sit down children

the story of Elsa

she came up to me and said, we are together now

I said ok and went about my day

she then came back and said I hate you and want you to die

then she threw her doll up on the high shelf and started crying

the teacher came asked what was going on, Elsa said I threw it up there

the teacher was very angry at me and told me that I was in big trouble

I was not allowed outside anymore

I was like what is going on?

Elsa snickered behind the teacher

as you have gathered Elsa and I were in kindergarten

you are a adult woman

the more things change the more they stay the same

Thank you!!

Are... We suppose to sympathize with Carly here? She sounds like a fucking psychopath.

She is, clearly, a psychopath. Especially without knowing why she hates him so much, she seems clearly unhinged.

Okay, good. I'm glad that was the intended reading, it was definitely well done.