Chapter One I can’t breathe. I thought I was ready to face them again but the fact I’m gasping for air tells me it’s still there. The fear. It’s why I ran and why I stayed hidden for so long.
“Is everything ok, miss?”
His words have the desired effect and act as a good hard slap in the face as they bring me to my senses.
“I just need a minute.”
I swear I can hear my heart thumping because there is silence in the cab as the driver recognizes my need for a moment. If only that was all I needed - a moment. However, that moment turned into weeks, then months, and finally years. Five years, in fact, because that’s how long I’ve been away. I ran to escape them and now I’ve run right back because the body that waits outside the little white church brought me back to face a past that should have remained there.
Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and say in a shaky voice, “How much do I owe you?”
“On the house.”
He turns and throws me a curious look, and I see the questions in his eyes that I know he will never ask. He smiles kindly and reveals a gold encrusted smile as he says gently, “It’s been paid.”
Once again, I battle the tears as I nod and say in a voice that sounds nothing like mine, “Thank you.”
I don’t ask who paid because I already know the answer. My family paid and not the one that’s crowded inside that little white church. My real family, the ones who found me and took me in. The people who took a broken angel and built her into the strong woman I am today because I am a strong woman. I have become a warrior, a fighter and a woman that takes no shit because of them. Now I need to prove that I’ve learned the lessons they taught and face my biggest fear.
Taking a deep breath, I take the fire that’s been burning inside for what feels like my whole life and caress it gently. It no longer hurts because that fire is what gives me strength. It burns with passion and purpose and is what keeps my cold heart warm and alive. Now I’m going to take that fire and unleash it on the very people who made my life hell and watch them burn in its unforgiving flame.
It’s time.
 
I exit the cab and am relieved to discover my legs hold me in place. Upright and with a strength I thought had deserted me. I steel myself to look at the walnut polished casket and feel a stab of remorse for the man who lies inside. My father.
I see the curious looks of the men who stand by silently, waiting to carry him inside, and the priest smiles at me with a sympathy that’s not needed. I don’t mourn the man who breathes no more. I don’t mourn the fact I never got to say goodbye, and I don’t mourn the fact my father is dead.
It’s about time.
Pulling my shoulders back, I stare at the men with empty eyes and am grateful mine are hidden behind the blackest shade. The sun beats down on me and warms my soul, and I discover a lightness to my step that fills me with surprise. I’m ok.
As the realization hits me, I breathe out in relief. Yes, Angelica Johnson is actually ok. I forgot who she was for a while because I haven’t used my full name since I left. I’m Angel now because Angelica deserved to die. She was weak and pathetic and I have no time for her. Angel is the woman I always wanted to be, and she takes no shit, so I stare at the priest and nod coolly and start the long walk inside.
I ignore the curious looks of the congregation as I walk through the church and hear the whispers that follow me like the coolest breeze as I pass. I stare straight ahead and make no eye contact as I walk with purpose to the front of the church. The organ plays its somber tune and I resist the urge to skip like a carefree girl as I head to where I belong. The front.
I hear the gasps as the fact I’m here at all registers with the many mourners crowded inside and as I reach the front, I see the stone-cold faces of the people who dare to call themselves my family.
“Angelica!”
Her voice is soft and disbelieving, and I stare at her with interest, noting the tears glistening in her eyes and the pallor of a woman shrouded in grief. She’s aged a lot and I hope I’m responsible. “Hi, mom.”
She sobs as she stands to greet me but I take a step back, reinforcing the fact I have an invisible shield protecting me and drag my eyes to the woman who sits beside her. The anger knots inside my heart as the cool eyes of my sister stare back at me. Just for a moment, we are locked in combat. She appears angry that I’m here, which fills me with pleasure. She should be angry because by the time I’ve finished she’ll wish I’d crawled away to die so she would never have to face me again.
She turns away and my mother says in a hushed whisper, “Move along and let Angelica sit.”
As if by magic, a space appears and I take it without uttering a single word. There will be plenty of time for words later and they will not like the ones I speak because five years is a long time to wrestle with the hurt and pain they caused me and it’s time to repay the favor.
 
As the service begins and the body of my father is laid to rest, I wonder if he ever repented his sins. I feel nothing as I listen to the words of a man who obviously didn’t know what a monster the Grim Reaper has claimed.
The Grim Reaper, how that name brings joy to my heart and a warm feeling inside. Reaper. Yes, that’s what I am now. A Twisted Reaper because when Angelica Johnson was broken, they took her in and put back the pieces with stronger glue. Angel sits among her family as a Twisted Reaper, and they are about to discover what that means.
 I know I don’t have long. As the service continues, I hear no words spoken. I can’t even focus on the fact that I’m surrounded once again by my family because now there is only one thing on my mind. Him.
I stare straight ahead because I can’t risk catching sight of the man who broke me. I know he’s here. I can feel him. He’s sitting a few feet away and yet I haven’t laid eyes on him. I know he’s here because there’s a prickle of electricity that is crackling between us. My heart is twisting inside me as it struggles to remain intact because one look into his eyes and all the good work I’ve done in keeping myself from folding would be undone in a heartbeat. Even thinking his name sends me into a downward spiral as I imagine how I will feel when I look into those eyes again.
Sebastian Stone. His name causes the oxygen to freeze in my lungs and my heart starts beating a different tune as I contemplate meeting the man who ruined me and I almost run again—almost.
I know he’s here because, as I said, I feel him. I always have and probably always will.
It’s him I focus on getting me through this service. It’s him I consider as my father is honored with words and it’s him I came back to face. My sister’s fiancé.