Chapter Two

Present Day (Spring 2014)

I remember when I first discovered that I was…different.

"You're…alive?"

I remember the feeling of brittle concrete beneath my bent knees and the metallic stench of too much blood.

"Who…who are YOU? Is this my blood? Oh my God, where's my Mom!? MOM!?"

I threw away that entire outfit the second I got back to my apartment.

"The police are coming, wait, stay here! Please, just sit down!"

I holed myself up in my room all night.

"The police?"

Even when they banged on my door.

"Yes, you've been injured! Very badly."

Even when they were 'forced to take action' and allowed themselves in.

"Injured?"

I couldn't understand it.

"Yes, honey. Look down."

I couldn't comprehend it.

"But…there's nothing there?"

I couldn't accept it.

"What?"

And to be completely honest…

"Besides…"

…a big part of me?

"…I feel fine."

Still can't.


His name was Jacob White. He was 7 and a half years old. His older sister, Rebecca, was a Political Science major. Her family was there to help her move her things back to their hometown three states away. He had run off with his two brothers after breakfast in the cafeteria to play a game of hide and seek. That's what he was doing in that blocked off area—finding the best hiding place.

There were so many questions I had that day. Where were the workers? Why had I been late to my exam? How could I have possibly heard his last, dying breath and rushed to his aid?

The answers, ambiguous as some were, came later. The workers were granted a free day—a fraternity had organized a fundraiser in the Zone B common area recognizing the lesser known members of the staff. They had asked the Dean if that could include the construction workers (since they had joked that everyone felt so intimate with the sound of their jack hammers by that point in the year). He gave his stamp of approval. For the event, his wife had made them her famous pumpkin tort. I had heard that some still had half-eaten pie crusts on their dixie plates when they were told the police had a few questions for them.

Addison had insisted that she had come into my room and urged me to wake up sooner, but I hardly remember that, as always. Who am I kidding? The only person I can ever blame for being late is myself.

As for hearing his last dying breath? Well, apparently, it wasn't.

I spent the entirety of that month renting every DC and Marvel movie Blockbuster had available. I searched online relentlessly. I bought books on ancient mythology and dug deep into multiple religions. But no matter how hard I searched, I couldn't find anything that could explain the bizarre occurrence that had happened that day.

I remember the moment, a month later, when I finally told Addison what had happened. She was shocked to say the least. As most people would do, and even I had done myself, she insisted I must have gotten the torturous events of that day wrong. She chalked it up to lack of sleep and stress. But when I forcibly told her I was certain that my memory was just fine, she decided there was only one way we could undoubtedly state that I had what we would later coin 'The Life Kiss'.

I simply had to prove it.

Six Years Ago (Summer 2008)

"Addison this is FUCKING insane!"

"Shh…stop talking!"

Callie and Addison, donned in pale green scrubs, had gone to the only place they could think of to find a dead body on such short notice.

Their observational hospital's morgue.

When Callie had told Addison the true reason behind her anti-social behavior from the past month, the red head didn't know what to think. She was at a loss as to how her friend could possibly believe that she had brought a boy back from the dead by kissing him. Despite her doubts, she could tell that Callie thought it to be true, so she decided the best way she could calm her friend down was by agreeing to believe her. In order to do this, they both agreed that the only way they could fully be convinced that this was actually something Callie was capable of…was by doing it again.

The idea wasn't Callie's favorite.

Addison had spent the better part of the afternoon using her minimal experience in psych to try to get her friend to bend to her wishes. Eventually, after plenty of bit lips and deep sighs on Callie's end, she finally caved. She agreed to go with Addison to the hospital's morgue, but only on the condition that they leave the apartment right away. She was afraid she'd back out if she allowed herself to sleep on it.

The two of them had done plenty of ridiculous things in their lives, but this, by far, was the most nerve wracking.

"What if someone comes down here?"

"They won't. Dr. Thompson just took his lunch break."

"But what if someone needs him and decides to go looking for him?"

"That's not going to happen. Besides, we won't be long, anyway."

"But-"

"CALLIE."

They stopped talking.

Addison had swiped the old, nearly blind, doctor's badge from his lab coat pocket as they accidentally-on-purpose bumped into him at the third floor nurse's station. Addison had been all smiles (and Callie all nerves) as she apologized profusely. She may have even flirted a little bit for good measure by unnecessarily touching his arm and laughing too enthusiastically at his comments, which Callie made a mental note to make fun of her for later.

It was freezing at the bottom of the hospital, but that was to be expected. It was so cold, in fact, that Callie was a little let down when she realized she couldn't see her breath form in front of her face when she exhaled.

As they cautiously approached the heavy-duty chrome double doors, Callie shifted nervously from foot to foot and hung back as Addison searched for the card scanner.

"Uh, Addie?"

Addison quickly snapped her head around after hearing the apprehension in her friend's voice. Her eyes widened threateningly as she pointed an accusing finger in the other woman's face.

"No! No time for scared! You're not backing out! Now, help me look…" she muttered as she turned back around. Callie released a nervous stream of air from between her lips.

"You know," Callie said, "why couldn't you be like MOST best friends and just, I don't know, take my word for it and get me an endless supply of ice cream? Or a puppy?"

Addison scoffed by her side. "Oh, please. That's something a normal, boring friend would do. A best friend is the one who has to make sure you're not totally full of shit and/or suffering alone. Oh! Found it!"

Not a moment later, a beep sounded from above their heads and a loud locking sound clicked. Addison yanked the door open quickly before it could close as she put her hand between her best friend's shoulder blades, shoving her forward into the sterilized, silent room. Callie pouted rather obviously as she noted the cadaver on the metal slab only a few feet in front of them.

It was a middle aged African American woman from what Callie could tell. Her medium-length thick dreadlocks rested on the cold metal beneath her head, barely grazing the sharp peaks of her shoulders. A white sheet was covering her from her feet up to her pronounced collar bones leaving her arms resting on top of it by her sides delicately. Her full lips were slightly parted; her eyes were closed restfully.

Addison and Callie took in the body quietly for a few moments, not really sure of what to do. Addison cleared her throat beside her friend.

"She's so…"

Callie nodded absently, taking in the woman before her.

"Vacant."

The two stood still for a few more moments, neither knowing where to start. Addison sheepishly scratched the back of her neck.

"Well," she said, "do your, uh…thing."

Callie side-eyed her friend with pursed lips and crossed arms.

Addison shrugged back at her. "Look, I don't know what to do in this situation, alright? Besides, I'm sure Dr. Thompson really will be looking for his missing ID card soon anyway. So just…" she hesitated, glancing back over at the lifeless body in front of them, "…see if you can bring her back."

Callie relented, taking a deep breath in. Her hands fidgeted at her bellybutton as she looked over at her best friend nervously. Addison nodded encouragingly, attempting a feeble smile. The brunette mimicked it, wordlessly showing her gratitude at having her friend there with her.

She slowly walked to the table and, upon reaching it, rested her hands against the end of the cool metal edge.

"Who were you, sweetheart?…" she whispered morosely as she took in the deceased woman's features.

"Janelle Johnson, age 32," came Addison's somber reply. "Died of a gun shot wound about…" she flipped through the chart at the foot of the table quickly, "…three hours ago."

Callie's heart clenched in her chest as she looked upon the woman. She was too young for such a fate. Then again, Jacob had been, too…

She hooked her right index finger under the deep brown skin of the woman's jaw while using the palm of her other hand to rest against her relaxed forehead. Licking her lips out of habit, she slowly allowed herself to lean forward, closing her eyes as her lips gently met the cold, chapped maroon ones beneath her.

Instantly she knew something was wrong.

A coiling feeling tugged in her gut as if a live snake were wriggling inside her. Her legs locked in place while her back went rigid. Her body felt as though it had been drenched in ice water. She was trembling fully as her eyes began watering—it was as though something were demanding the moisture out of them, and she couldn't seem to keep them shut.

She vaguely felt the woman's body beneath her shaking, but it wasn't until she attempted to pull away that she realized a terrifying truth:

She couldn't.

Janelle Johnson was violently flopping around beneath her as though she were experiencing a severe electric shock. Callie tried to tug herself away, but dark, bony hands clawed at her scalp, yanking her forward and keeping her, frighteningly, right where she was.

She couldn't breathe. Her vision was overrun with black spots. Her head swam and her heart pounded in her chest. It felt like her hair was being yanked out of her skull. She tried crying out, pulling away—anything to separate herself from this woman. Nothing seemed to work.

Just before her mind went blank entirely, she felt two arms wrap around her torso and pull.

A moment later, Addison and Callie lay strewn on the grey speckled tile, panting and gasping for air. Callie was shivering as tears streamed down her face. The body of Janelle was twitching, still clawing for Callie from her place on the metal table. She looked like a monster with a yellow film over her crazed, open eyes—her arms extended at a greedy angle towards Callie's exhausted form. Addison watched in horror as the dead woman's attempts at ragged breathing subsided and slowly, painfully, observed her die fitfully once again. All the while, her dead eyes were locked on Callie's whitened lips.

After the initial shock wore off, Addison rolled over, doing her best to quickly assess her best friend's state. She noticed how pale she was—her normally radiant caramel colored skin was now a dull beige.

"Cal? Callie? Are you alright?"

The young hispanic woman choked back vomit, her brow covered in tiny beads of sweat as she tried focusing on her surroundings. Her stomach was still churning uncomfortably, but it was nothing like what she had been feeling moments before. The longer she laid there trying to get her bearings, the more she allowed herself to fully take in the moment. Once she could open her eyes, she glanced at Addison, who was staring at her with obvious concern. She licked her sore lips as she rasped out her dazed question.

"What the hell just happened?"

Present Day (Spring 2014)

I did prove it, in a way. I kissed a corpse in front of me and momentarily, it had jolted back to life, but not for long. And now I have to live with knowing that any time my lips are pressed against a person, something strange will happen. Either life, or death.


Authors Note: Hey guys! I realize it may seem confusing for now, but I promise, it will all come together. PS: Arizona will be in the next chapter, and she stays from then on, so don't worry about that (: thank you all for reading and reviewing! It means a lot!