Death is the thief that takes a purse from an innocent elderly woman while walking to her car. It strikes silently and the victims can be chosen at random. It looms throughout the air but hides itself by the laughter and heartbeats of those who believe they will escape it. In some cases it can be seen as a relief, but as for my mom it was seen as the ultimate failure. My mom was strong. Determined. In her case, her life was stolen just like lunch money stolen by a bully. I remember seeing her, being with her. Sitting beside her hospital bed as I watched her life deteriorate. It wasn't fair. Why her? What did she do to deserve to suffer? When my dad ushered my six year old self out of the hospital, I gave my mom a kiss and a promise, which I now know would be my last words to her. I promised that whatever happened that I loved her and I would always stay strong. That was ten years ago. Now I'm staring at my best friend who looks like a wreck. The same friend who was always there for me. The same one who let me cry on his shoulder over the death of my mom. The same one who I let stay over at my house while his parents fought. The same one who never gave up on me even though I can be a sarcastic asshole sometimes. But, hey, cut me some credit. I'm new to the world of lycanthropy too. Sure we've had our fights, but we always make up. We're practically brothers. When we were little and he would have an asthma attack, I was always the first to supply his inhaler. Now he has his special werewolf healing abilities, and that's pretty cool right? However, I still carry in an extra inhaler just in case. Always just in case… During those scary moments where I wasn't sure if he would get to the hospital in time I told him to stay strong. He always did. He never worried about his wellbeing and instead, always put others before himself which was and is his biggest fault. I am unable to move. At this moment I just want to collapse and sleep for the rest of eternity. I want to wake up and have this just be a dream. A horrible dream. This whole thing, starting with my fucking idea to go into the woods that night before the first day of sophomore year. I snap back to reality to find my friend in tears and convulsing his body. I try to find something comforting to say to someone who just watched their only family member become werewolf bait. Nothing comes to mind. I try to think back to when I lost my mom and how I just wanted a friend to be there. Talking is pointless at this time. Even if I tried, he would be such a stage of hysterics to even listen. I put my hand on his shoulder and I let him cry. It's pouring outside, but the motel is far from comforting. I lead him to a staircase and we just sit there. The rain drops allow the illusion of the clouds emptying their hearts out onto the small valley. Light from the small lamps above us quietly hum a song of sorrow, but it offers some stability of the chaotic world we now know as our own. When Scott runs out of tears, he just buries his face into his hands. I can only rub his back in a circular motion, so he knows I'm there and I will always be there. We can think about how to defeat the alpha pack at another time. Right now we just listen to the rain as I tell myself repeatedly to stay strong. Not just for me but for Scott, for Allison who realized we needed some space right now, for Lydia who is a hidden genius and who probably will want to know what's wrong, for my dad who is still out of the loop on the whole werewolf thing, for my mom who I know is always looking after me from wherever heaven may be, and for Death. I need to stay strong so I can fight off Death and not let it steal another important person in my life. Death is always at war wanting more and more victims, but we have to decide to fight against it. In the end we can't escape the reality of mortality, but when our moment comes, we can come to peace with the idea.