Page 16 of How to Survive Your Own Death

“What kind of things?” the doctor asked.

The grim reaper.

The grim reaper in question stood beside the doctor, making the room’s population five. His hood tilted and his hand flexed, as if expecting to hold a tool. He said, “Tell him about me.”

“Lights and colors mostly,” Geri said, ignoring the reaper.

“Your concussion was a week ago. Some lingering effects are not out of the ordinary.”

The doctor meant well, but his tone irritated her.

“Please don’t talk down to me.”

He glanced down at the chart. “I see we kept you for three days and ran scans. No bleeding detected. Were you seeing lights and colors before you were discharged?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “I was told it was to be expected. I was also told to come back if it got worse. Tonight I saw… something.”

“Something,” the doctor repeated.

“A shadowy figure outside. I thought it was my ex-boyfriend, but then I saw it in my apartment.” Geri took a breath, forcing herself to slow down as she spoke. Bazel took it upon himself to investigate the equipment in the room. “It looked so real. Sounded real. It frightened me. I thought my brain broke.”

The doctor followed her gaze. “Are you continuing to see it now?”

“No,” she lied. She didn’t like this guy. His vibes were off. She wasn’t going to tell him about the reaper because if a physical cause had been ruled out, then the only other option was psychological, right? A mental breakdown. He seemed exactly the sort to decide she was a danger to herself and place an involuntary hold on her for observation.

“What are you seeing now?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Just remembering. Maybe it was a trick of the light.”

The doctor did not look convinced. “Does this figure tell you to hurt yourself or another person?”

“No. Nothing like that. It just scared me.”

He quizzed her about any drug use—none, she was a square like that—and her sleeping habits—terrible. She hadn’t slept well since the accident. Her body hurt too much.

“I’m ordering a urine test to rule out a possible UTI.” The doctor flashed his badge at a computer terminal and entered the orders.

“He doesn’t believe you about the drugs,” the reaper said.

“It’s not drugs,” she said.

“We ruled out the most serious concerns. Now we’re investigating other physical causes,” the doctor said.

Vibes. Off.

She could practically see the thought bubble over his head deciding that if it wasn’t a UTI or drugs, then she was having a psychotic episode.

An hour later, results came back negative for a urinary tract infection. Which she knew. Nor was she out of her mind on whatever drugs the cool kids did nowadays.

Geri sighed with relief when the doctor announced, “I suspect lack of sleep is causing visual hallucinations. I’m sending a prescription to the pharmacy for something to help you sleep. Someone will bring them by when they’re ready and you can go home.”

Geri nodded. No breakdowns today, just old-fashioned sleep deprivation.

“Your body’s had a major trauma. It’ll take some time to heal before you feel like yourself again,” he said.

She doubted it would be as simple as that.

Geri shuffled into her kitchen. Fiddlesticks trotted at her side and froze, tail puffed.