Grant Me The End

Expired

Evelyn Mercer

***** Late Afternoon — North Seattle Storage Facility *****

Rain followed Seattle around like a bad habit.

By the time Mina parked outside the storage building, the sky looked bruised purple and grey, water sliding down the windshield in crooked lines.

“You seriously couldn’t pick a less depressing location?” Mina muttered.

I stared at the giant rusted sign hanging above the gate.

EVERMORE STORAGE.

“Trust me,” I said quietly. “This isn’t even top five.”

Mina sighed beside me.

She’d been acting strange all day.

Quieter than usual.

Careful.

Like every sentence she said had to pass through grief before reaching her mouth.

I hated that more than the cancer.

People started treating you delicate the second they found out you were dying.

Like your bones might c***k from normal conversation.

Mina turned off the engine.

“You sure you wanna do this today?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then why are we here?”

Because I couldn’t stop thinking about that man.

About his voice.

Demons only stay near humans when they want something from them.

And somehow that sentence had crawled under my skin and stayed there.

I pushed the car door open before I could think too hard about it.

Cold rain immediately soaked through my hoodie.

Perfect.

The storage building smelled like dust, wet concrete, and old memories.

Which honestly felt rude.

Mina walked beside me while I searched through my bag for the unit key.

“You never told me what’s actually in here,” she said.

“My old apartment stuff.”

“From before?”

I nodded once.

Before the hospital visits became routine.

Before my life turned into blood tests and countdowns.

Before I learned exactly how long a human body could betray itself.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered as we walked deeper into the building.

Row after row of metal doors stretched endlessly.

The place felt weirdly empty.

Too quiet.

I rubbed my arms slowly.

“Tell me I’m not the only one getting serial killer vibes.”

“You always get serial killer vibes.”

“That is not true.”

“You called a barista suspicious because he smiled too hard.”

“He knew too much.”

Mina snorted softly.

For a second it sounded normal.

Then I coughed.

Pain tore through my chest immediately.

Sharp.

Violent.

I grabbed the wall hard.

“Eve…”

“I’m fine.”

“You literally sound like your organs are filing complaints.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The lie tasted exhausted.

Mina looked at me for a long moment but didn’t push.

That almost made it worse.

I finally stopped in front of Unit 314.

The lock stuck the first two times before clicking open.

Metal screeched loudly when I pulled the door up.

Dust drifted into the air.

Boxes.

Old furniture.

Suitcases.

Fragments of a life I barely recognized anymore.

Mina peeked inside.

“…Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“It looks like emotional damage in physical form.”

“Accurate.”

She stepped carefully around boxes while I stood near the entrance trying to breathe normally again.

My chest hurt constantly now.

Not dramatic movie pain.

Just this endless pressure sitting inside my lungs like something heavy refused to leave.

Mina picked up an old lamp.

“You kept this ugly thing?”

“My mother loved that lamp.”

“…Okay now I feel bad.”

“You should.”

The smile that crossed my face disappeared quickly.

Because my eyes landed on a small cardboard box shoved near the back wall.

And suddenly my stomach tightened.

I knew that box.

I walked toward it slowly.

Every step felt heavier than it should’ve.

Mina noticed immediately.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

But I did.

I crouched carefully and pulled the box toward me.

My fingers already felt cold.

Inside were old notebooks.

Birthday cards.

Photos.

Letters.

My throat tightened instantly.

“Oh,” Mina said softly.

I swallowed hard.

The handwriting on top of the first envelope was painfully familiar.

My mother’s.

The air suddenly felt thinner.

Mina’s voice became quieter.

“Eve…”

“I’m okay.”

Another lie.

I picked up the letter carefully.

The paper looked worn at the edges from age.

There was a date written in the corner.

Ten years ago.

Three months before she died.

My hands shook slightly opening it.

I wasn’t prepared for that.

Not even close.

***** Inside Storage Unit 314 — Thirty Minutes Later *****

I shouldn’t have read the letter.

That became clear immediately.

Because the second I saw her handwriting properly, something inside me cracked.

> Evelyn,

If you’re reading this, it means you ignored my instructions and went through my things anyway.

You’ve always been stubborn. I suppose that came from me.

I laughed once.

Weakly.

My mother used to say things like that while making pancakes at midnight because neither of us could sleep.

I kept reading.

> I know you’re scared lately.

You try very hard to pretend you aren’t.

But I know you, Eve.

My vision blurred.

Damn it.

Not here.

Not now.

Mina sat quietly nearby pretending not to watch me cry.

Which was honestly the nicest thing anyone had done for me recently.

> You think being afraid makes you weak.

It doesn’t.

It means you still have something you want to keep.

My chest hurt so badly I thought I might actually collapse.

Because suddenly I remembered hospital rooms.

Her hospital rooms.

The smell of antiseptic.

The sound of machines.

Watching cancer slowly hollow someone out while pretending hope still existed.

I remembered holding her hand while she apologized for dying.

Apologized.

Like death had been an inconvenience she caused personally.

A sharp cough ripped through me.

Blood stained my fingers instantly.

Mina stood up fast.

“Jesus Christ, Eve….”

“I’m okay.”

“You are absolutely not okay.”

“I know.”

My voice cracked on the last word.

And suddenly I couldn’t stop crying.

Not graceful crying either.

The ugly kind.

The kind that hurts.

Mina crossed the room immediately and knelt beside me.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, look at me.”

I couldn’t.

Everything hurt too much.

“I don’t wanna do this,” I whispered.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Mina’s face broke instantly.

And that somehow made everything worse.

“I know,” she said quietly.

“I’m tired.”

“I know.”

“I’m so tired.”

Her arms wrapped around me carefully.

Like she thought I might physically fall apart.

Maybe I would.

I buried my face against her shoulder trying desperately to breathe through the pain clawing inside my chest.

“This is bullshit,” Mina whispered angrily. “Do you hear me? This is complete bullshit.”

I laughed weakly through tears.

“That’s your motivational speech?”

“Yes.”

“It’s terrible.”

“I’m emotional.”

That actually pulled another laugh out of me.

Small.

Broken.

Still real.

We stayed like that for a while.

Until the lights flickered overhead.

Once.

Then again.

Mina stiffened slightly.

“…Please tell me Seattle’s electric company just sucks.”

I slowly lifted my head.

The temperature dropped suddenly.

Not cold enough to see breath.

Just enough to feel wrong.

A familiar feeling settled over the room.

Pressure.

Stillness.

Like the atmosphere itself noticed someone entering.

Mina frowned.

“What is that?”

I already knew.

The storage unit entrance darkened slightly.

And Kairen stepped inside.

Black coat.

Rainwater dripping slowly from dark fabric.

Gold eyes moving across the room before settling on me.

Everything inside me tightened immediately.

Not fear exactly.

Awareness.

The kind that made your heartbeat louder.

Mina blinked beside me.

Confusion crossed her face instantly.

“…Who’s that?”

I stared at her.

Again.

She forgot him.

Completely.

Kairen noticed too.

His expression didn’t change.

But something about the room became heavier anyway.

Mina stood protectively beside me.

“Can I help you?”

Kairen ignored her completely.

His gaze remained fixed on the blood staining my hand.

“You’re bleeding again.”

Straight to the point.

No greeting.

No concern.

Just observation.

“Congratulations,” I muttered tiredly. “Your eyesight works.”

Mina frowned harder.

“Eve, who is this?”

“Kairen.”

She blinked slowly.

“I’ve literally never seen this man before in my life.”

Kairen finally looked at her.

The air shifted instantly.

Subtle.

Controlled.

Still enough to make Mina unconsciously step backward.

“She should leave,” he said calmly.

Mina crossed her arms immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

Kairen looked back at me instead.

“You’re exhausting yourself.”

“That’s kind of what terminal illness does.”

Silence.

Heavy silence.

Then:

“You should not be here.”

Something about the way he said it irritated me instantly.

Cold.

Controlled.

Like my body failing was an inconvenience interrupting his schedule.

“Well, unfortunately,” I snapped, “I didn’t schedule leukemia around your preferences.”

Mina looked between us.

Clearly confused.

“…Okay seriously what is happening right now?”

Neither of us answered.

Kairen’s eyes moved briefly toward the letter in my hand.

Then toward the open box.

His expression remained unreadable.

“You came here for memories,” he said.

Not a question.

I wiped angrily at my face.

“Are demons naturally creepy or do you train for it?”

“You’re deteriorating faster.”

There it was again.

That detached observation.

Like he was monitoring damage instead of talking to a person.

“I know I’m dying, Kairen.”

“I did not say otherwise.”

God.

Talking to him felt like arguing with a very attractive brick wall.

Mina suddenly frowned harder.

“Wait.”

She looked directly at Kairen again.

Then blinked.

“…Why do I feel weird looking at you?”

Kairen stayed silent.

Mina rubbed her temple slowly.

“It’s like my brain keeps skipping over your face.”

The room became very still.

Kairen finally spoke.

“Humans are not meant to remember creatures like me easily.”

Mina stared at him.

“…Excuse me?”

“That’s not terrifying at all,” I muttered.

Mina looked at me sharply.

“You’re acting like this is normal.”

“It stopped being normal around the time ocean monsters showed up.”

She opened her mouth.

Stopped.

“…Ocean what?”

Right.

She forgot the ferry too.

I suddenly felt sick in a completely different way.

People forgot him.

Forgot the monsters.

Forgot the impossible.

Like reality erased evidence after he left.

That shouldn’t have unsettled me as much as it did.

But it did.

Because it meant eventually.

No.

I shoved the thought away immediately.

Kairen’s gaze shifted toward the letter again.

“You’ve been crying for thirty-seven minutes.”

I stared at him.

“…Do you enjoy sounding like a serial killer?”

“No.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Mina looked emotionally exhausted already.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I officially hate whatever this situation is.”

That almost made me smile.

Almost.

Pain suddenly slammed into my chest again.

Hard enough to steal breath instantly.

I bent forward sharply coughing into my sleeve.

Blood.

More this time.

“Eve,” I heard faintly.

Then movement.

Fast.

Strong hands caught my arm before I hit the floor.

Kairen.

The pressure of his grip felt controlled.

Careful without looking careful.

I struggled to breathe properly.

Everything hurt.

My ribs.

My lungs.

Even my heartbeat felt wrong.

Mina panicked immediately.

“We need to go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Eve…”

“No hospitals.”

I couldn’t do another night there.

Couldn’t handle another doctor looking at me with sympathy hidden behind professionalism.

Kairen crouched slightly in front of me.

Gold eyes fixed directly on my face.

“You can barely breathe.”

“You’re very observant today.”

“Stop speaking.”

The words came calm.

Sharp.

Automatic.

Like control was easier for him than concern.

I laughed weakly despite myself.

“You’re awful at comfort.”

“I am not attempting comfort.”

“Clearly.”

Another coughing fit hit hard enough to blur my vision.

Kairen’s hand tightened slightly around my arm.

Not emotional.

Not gentle.

Just steady.

Like he refused to let me collapse before completing something important.

Mina grabbed tissues frantically from her bag.

“This is insane,” she whispered shakily.

No one disagreed.

Eventually the pain eased enough for me to breathe again.

Barely.

The storage unit fell quiet afterward.

Rain hammered outside.

Water dripped from Kairen’s coat onto the concrete floor slowly.

Mina sat beside me looking emotionally wrecked.

And somehow the silence became worse than the coughing.

Because my eyes kept drifting back to the letter still clutched in my hand.

My mother’s handwriting.

Her words.

Her voice trapped between paper lines.

Kairen noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“You continue reading things that hurt you,” he said quietly.

I laughed bitterly.

“Welcome to human existence.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual.

Then he finally released my arm and moved toward the entrance of the storage unit.

Not leaving.

Just standing there.

Watching the rain outside.

Still.

Controlled.

Like a weapon waiting quietly in human shape.

Mina leaned closer to me carefully.

“…Why is he so scary?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“You do know I can hear you,” Kairen said without turning around.

“That’s part of the problem.”

Silence again.

Then Mina whispered:

“…He’s kinda hot though.”

I stared at her.

“Mina.”

“What? I’m grieving.”

Even Kairen looked faintly irritated by that.

Which somehow made the moment feel weirdly normal.

For exactly five seconds.

Until the lights flickered again.

Harder this time.

Kairen’s po

sture changed instantly.

Subtle shift.

But dangerous.

The entire atmosphere tightened.

“What?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer immediately.

That scared me more.

Then finally:

“We are not alone.”

Cold slid down my spine instantly.

Mina looked around nervously.

“What does that mean?”

Kairen slowly turned toward the dark hallway outside the storage unit.

Gold eyes sharp now.

Focused.

Predatory.

For one terrible second, the shadows at the end of the hallway moved strangely.

Not naturally.

Like darkness bending around a person standing inside it.

Watching.

Waiting.

And then I saw him.

That man.

Standing motionless beneath the flickering lights.

Grey eyes fixed directly on us.

On me.

A faint smile touched his face when he noticed I recognized him.

Then the lights went out completely.