To Die For

My mother works in the Morgue, my father is a funeral director. Death is pretty much hereditary in the Miller family. Which seems fitting for me, since I now have a crush on a vampire.

An: There are no warnings for this chapter. Just read and enjoy

Chapter 1

"Emily Nix?"

I lifted my head and stared at the teacher, slightly confused by why my name was called. I had thought Mr. Brown was in the middle of a coffee induced lecture about the 'oh-so-fascinating' Revolutionary War.

Apparently I was wrong.

It appeared that he had decided to randomly call on people's names.


Mr. Brown scowled as I deliberately forgot his golden rule. I left off 'sir' in my answer.

Thankfully, he didn't make me repeat it.

"Could you tell me exactly what is so enthralling about the detail on your desk that has distracted you so much from this crucial lecture?" He tilted his head to the side in a very sarcastic way. I smiled, my eyes narrowing.

"Well, Mr. Brown-sir-" I added it just for him. "Since this is just a review for me, seeing as how I've already been tested on the Revolutionary war, I figured I could take this time to sleep with my eyes open."

A few kids around me snickered. The sane ones looked away from the fumes pouring out of Mr. Brown's ears. Obviously, I had annoyed him. And only on my third day. I felt as if I should get a medal.

"Miss Nix. When they put you into my advanced class, I was under the impression that you were aware of the rules." He clucked his tongue as he checked something by my name in the grade book.

I gnashed my teeth in complete annoyance as I stared at the pen in his pale fingers. He looked back up, making me stare into his beady, stupid, too-close-together eyes. "Apparently I was wrong." He quickly went back to the lecture.

And as quickly as he did that, I went back to staring at the paper on my desk. I hated the man. He had a reputation throughout the school as being the most deliberately annoying man on campus, but I had no idea.

I was longing for the class I signed up for. The dumb, un-advanced class. But, by request of my parents, who wanted to over-achieve through me I suppose, I switched to a higher placement.

And began regretting it the day I walked in.

Now was only the cherry on top of the annoyance sundae I was making myself. I cracked my knuckles loudly, trying hard not to smile as Mr. Brown paused in his lecture. It took a lot of struggling, but I managed to keep a straight, innocent face.

Fortunately for the class, the bell rang loudly through the old, faded speakers. I slammed my books closed and shoved them into my bad before Mr. Brown could even conclude the lesson.

I was on my way out, following the long line of anxious students to flee from the confines of the classroom and make their way to their weekend destinations.

It seemed God was on my side lately. It was a four day weekend ahead.

Before my foot could cross the threshold, I was called back by my favorite teacher. Begrudgingly, I turned on my heel and walked back to Mr. Brown's lectern where he stood, a folded slip of paper held between his pale fingers.

"This came for you during class. Had you'd been paying attention to anything other than the whatever was going through your head, you would have gotten this when it arrived." I glared harder at the man.

Wasn't there a law that told him he couldn't be such a smart-ass to his students? Made me want to become a lawyer so I could make him pay every red cent he had to all the students he's forced to the counselors.

I wonder if he's ever made anyone cry.

I snatched my note from his fingers and stormed out, very pissed now. I wanted to be so far away from the classroom that I didn't care when Mr. Brown slammed the door behind me.

I wish I could slap him across that smirking, sarcastic face of his. Now, I was sure that was against the law.

At my locker, I forced my books into the small, metal box and pulled out my English notebook and Science notes. Two tests when we came back from our glorious four-day weekend made me want to crawl under my blankets and cry the entire time.

I took the time to unfold the note and read it, even though I could see Noah casually making his way through the crowd to me. His black hair stood out over the tops of the other student's heads. He was nearly 6 foot five. He lacked only a half a centimeter.

'Emily. Mother will not be able to pick you up. Meet her at the hospital.'

Apparently the receptionist in the office was in a hurry as she wrote this. The chicken scratch handwriting was barely legible. I crinkled the note and tossed it toward a garbage can. It bounced off the rim and skittered on the floor.

I ignored it, slammed my locker and met Noah in the middle of the hall. He nodded and pointed to the paper. "Nice shot. You should sign up for basketball tryouts."

I glared and nodded toward the parking lot as we surfaced from High School hell. The courtyard was littered with excited, anxious students, all ready to start partying.

A few were throwing rolls of toilet paper over the bushes that lined the school, uncaring of who had to clean it up. I blinked and looked up at Noah. "Wanna give me a ride to the hospital."

He made a face and rubbed the side of his jaw. It was clear that he was trying to find an excuse not to do it. I sighed. "I won't drag you downstairs."

He breathed a deep sigh of relief, a grin replacing the worry that was evident in his features. Noah had a strong, over-whelming fear of my mother's work place. Not the hospital.

Hospitals aren't his problem. It's the morgue. Technically, I'm not allowed to bring anyone down there, but I had brought Noah down once or twice. He claimed he was curious the first time. I forgot how I tricked him into coming a second time.

It wasn't long after though, he got a weird, pale expression whenever I talked about the Morgue. We raced to his 95 Explorer and climbed in quickly to escape the cold wind. Before he could, I clicked the heat on and turned down his radio, gaining a glare from him.

He pushed the volume back up a bit, but not to a ear-shattering decibel, thankfully. It was some new rap song that was all the craze on the radio. I barely had time to listen to the radio, let alone keep up with the newest fads.

I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully. "You kids and your rap music. Back in my day, it was nothing but good old' Gospel hymns!"

Noah backed out and fell into the line. "You really freak me out when you do the old man voice."

I laughed loudly, ignoring the horns blaring as Noah cut across to get us out quicker. I was used to his insane driving by now. A long time ago, I learned that if you weren't buckled in his car, you would be thrown around.

He parked the car at the ER parking lot and nodded to the brick building. "Well, there you go. Have fun among the dead."

I laughed evilly and jumped out of the car, blowing him a friendly kiss before hurrying in the automatic doors. The nurse in the ER waiting room waved to me and opened the doors so I could go back in the restricted halls.

I could never remember her name. Instead of saying hello, I thanked her with a wave and hurried back. Dr. Moran waved quickly to me as he hurried by. It seemed that everyday, he was running somewhere.

Down the hall, to the elevators, across the ER waiting room. It never failed. I doubted he ever really had anywhere to go…He just loved to run.

I turned down a hallway with doors on either side, all with the bright bio-hazard symbol placed on the surface. I ignored them, as usual and turned another corner. The morgue was at the end, and no matter how creepy it actually was, I never felt freaked out.

Girl's used to ask me if I ever got to see naked dead people, which I felt extremely uncomfortable with answering. But, down here in the cold, stark white morgue…There was nothing.

No fear, no annoying teachers, no worry. No life, either. But, let's ignore that one.

I pushed the heavy door open and took the steps lightly, trying not to make a sound. The lights were blinding, and I squinted in them. A body was on the autopsy table, a crisp, white sheet pulled over the head. The light of the lamp was shining down on the body, making me raise my eyebrow.

It looked like Mom was in the middle of an autopsy. I looked at the tag on the white, almost blue foot peeking out from under the tag.

Name: Blank.

Age: Blank

T.O.D: Undecided

That was strange. I had never seen the tag so blank and…unanswered. It didn't feel right. I let go of the tag and turned to my mother's office. The door was shut and the light was off, but a white piece of paper was taped to the door handle.

"Em. Have a seat in my office. I had to step out for about thirty minutes to go to the lab. Don't touch anything!" I rolled my eyes, wondering why I was getting so many notes lately.

I pushed on her office door, twisting the knob. I gave a grunt as I hit my shoulder against the unmoving door. I tried once more, hoping I had only slipped against the door. But, try as I might, the door wouldn't budge.

"Gee thanks, Mom. Tell me to take a seat, and lock the door where the seat is."

To top it off, the only place to sit beside the stairs, was the table where my little nameless, ageless, mystery friend laid. I sighed and walked toward the autopsy table. It looked untouched, as if she were about to start an autopsy, but had been called away.

Well, it wasn't the first time I saw a dead body. I had accidentally walked in on my mother cutting out a man's heart, who had mysteriously died in a restaurant. It took me three weeks to get over it, but the more I was around bodies, the less I cared.

It wasn't as though they could feel it.

So, I shouldn't be bothered by this body. I gripped the edge of the sheet, shivering as I pulled the material back to the person's face. My fingers stayed, tightly gripping the material as I took a look at the boy's face.

He didn't look much older than me. It made me more curious to discover how this boy died. With a deep breath, I pulled the sheet down more, resting it a bit below his cold navel. Biting my lip, I studied the strange hue of his skin.

Even despite the fact that he was…well, dead…I wondered if this was his natural skin tone. It looked right, as if it fit him.

My curiosity grew in the pit of my stomach, making me feel a bit more braver than I truly was. I could feel the pulse racing out of control beneath my wrist. It was more deafening than the silence of the morgue.

My fingertips brushed the middle of his chest lightly, but I must have had static electricity running through my veins. Just as I touched his skin, his left arm jerked. I took a strong step backwards, pressing myself against the lockers behind me. The cold of the metal felt as if it were a million miles away from me.

He moved. It moved. It's not suppose to move; it's dead.

Immediately, my fingernails were in my mouth, and I was picking away at my already cuticle short fingernails. I slapped my hand away and blinked a few times to get my thoughts together.

"Calm down, Em. It's dead. It's just a body….like a shell that a hermit crab's crawled out of. It. Did. Not. Move."

I nodded to convince myself, taking a step forward, my hand outstretched. On second thought, what if it did move?

My bones were aching for me to turn away but, before the impulse to flee made it to my brain, a hand shot out from the autopsy table and snatched my wrist in it's grasp.

I opened my mouth to scream, but another cold hand wrapped delicately around my lips as I was pulled over the body's lap. My legs against the lockers, my back against the boy's lap, I stared upwards.

I stared into the now open, now gorgeously dark eyes of the dead body. Apparently, he wasn't dead after all…

An- Well, after a LONG, long break, I have returned from retirement. This is just a small idea I had that kept growing and growing! I hope it goes well, and I hope you all remember to review! With more reviews, the updates will be a LOT faster!