I remember the first time Death and I met. He was not a friendly fellow, but instead was frowning constantly. He would mumble his words and shrivel in fear when I answered back.

I was always afraid of death, but now It seemed as if Death was just another human soul; a loner, a fighter, a dreamer and quite possibly a coward.

Death did not want me. He told me I was too pure, and that I still had so much life and fight left inside of me.

I was furious. It was the fourth time I had met with him, and still he did not want anything to do with me. I remember crying and screaming for him to accept my offer.

But, I woke up, yet again. My father came to my side in the blinding little room.

“God, thank you.” I looked up at him and began to cry.

“Dad? Why won’t I die?” His face shrank back, appalled and possibly fearful of my words.

“Hanna, you can’t truly believe that this is the end. You’re so young and gifted, you mustn’t wish for such things.”

But, then, I met with death a fifth time, and this time he was different. He spoke different, acted different, laughed different and accepted me in a way so different than before, that I had felt almost sad to see the sudden change. He was not the same and neither was I. This death clung to me, but I did not share those feelings of admiration. This time death was a stalker. This death was a murderer.

There was no way I could escape this death.

Death turned around, and to my surprise, had a second face that matched that of the Death I had seen before. He was scared of his second identity and told me to run as fast as I can.

This time, I did run and if I had not fought with all the strength left in me, then I would have never come to realize how important Life was to me.

Life and Death walk together, constantly fighting over the weak, constantly doing what they do best. I must thank both of them.