When Death all but consumes you, you stop running. The idea of death terrifies most people. The unknown, or what comes after. For me, Death was not an idea. Death was not scary. I had met him. Touched him. And he broke my heart. My whole life I had been told I imagined him. He was a way my young mind coped with a traumatic experience. I thought I had come to accept that. To move on. That was until my life became consumed by him again. Painting him at all hours of the night, focused on comparing him to everything and everyone around me. No one measured up. He was fake. They couldn't. That was until he wasn’t. Death was real, and he was a man. A very real man that confused and infuriated me all at the same time. Made me want things I had no business wanting. Just as before, he entered my life, and left everything upended, and only questions in his wake. That and four other sexy figments of my imagination. The Horsemen of the Apocalypse themselves. This time, though, I wasn’t just giving up. Come afterlife or not, I was getting answers.