The Reaper Saga [Book 1-3]

CHAPTER 15 [EDITED]

5132

TWO MONTHS AGO

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I can cry in happiness."

My therapist looked at me like I grew three heads. "Lana, I told you not to lie in our sessions."

"And I told you not to call me Lana. It's 5132. See? It's literally written in my gown. You can see in the dark but you can't read a basic number in the broad daylight?"

It was meant to be a jab but he didn't bite it.

"Why are you so against your name?" He asked with a tilt of his head instead. "You used to be so proud of it. What happened?"

Life happened. Death happened.

Tomato Tomahto. But of course, I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Is this really necessary? You are not even a real therapist." If it's possible, Byron's face grew even paler. I watched with a blank face as he dropped the notepad a little harsher than necessary. He was getting pissed but ironically he didn't have any right to act on it.

Not anymore.

And if I was capable of showing any emotions, I'd give him a petty as fuck smile. Maybe even throw my middle finger at whoever was watching our session in the CCTV. But since the day I woke up different, unable to keep my hunger at bay, they upped my dose. Pills after pills that could have been knocked a human out for months. When that didn't work, they found another way. It looked like they had a magical solution for everything.

I only had one magic pill now. A red one that burned my throat every time I took it.

It made me sluggish and my nerves go into shock.

It also made me pissed than normal.

"You have to cooperate, Lana. This won't do. If you don't get better, you'll be stuck here for the rest of your life. Is this what you truly want?" If it was Sandy or anyone besides Byron asking me, I might be tempted to answer. But he was a sly little bastard, always trying to get into my head.

"Oh?" I pretended to mull over his question. "This place has a get-out card now? I didn't realize Valentine was being that generous. Call me when the shield drops, I'll just walk out with my awesome socialization skills."

I never met the man in question but what I heard from others was enough to pray that I never saw his face. Maybe Byron thought so too by the way he flinched, color returning to his cheeks.

"That damn disrespect. When would you learn that acting passive-aggressive isn't going to help you?"

Hopefully never.

Before I could answer, however, I was saved by a phone call. Giving me a pointed stare that I read as don't make me kill you today, he picked it up, talking fast and quietly so I didn't listen. Not that I was interested in listening. He got only two calls every day anyway. One was from his master Valentine and one was from a girl he left somewhere in Bali.

His life was far miserable than mine.

"Byron, did you-" I whipped around, seeing Zach out of all people. Now that I was interested in. He looked good, damn good for a ghost coming back to life. It was unfair, really. He was the one who died, he was the one who decided that mourning him would be useless when he wanted me dead.

But I was always a little crazy so I watched, shamelessly as they talked before he came to take me to my little room. He was probably waiting for me to refuse or hiss at him, which only happened like one time but I stood up without a care, mimicking something that could have called a smile.