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of the Black Widow is like a game of Russian Roulette apparently.  You are taking your life in your hands.
    You may die.  You may not.  It’s a chance that you take.
    Just like with the spider version. 
    Depending on her mood she may just let you go.
    I was very confused.  I told him that I would never hurt him in any way.
    He already knew this.  The thing is, he explained, it won’t be my choice. 
    He was trying to explain the mechanics of the whole situation to me.  His attempts were kind of hilarious to behold.
    He didn’t want to say the word ‘sex’ or ‘mating’ but there was no way to say what he needed to say without doing so.
    He kept starting off again.  
    It will only take effect when . . . Well , it only happens if . . . You know if we ever . . . It kind of happens when . . .
    In the end I said it straight out, “If we have sex you could just spontaneously die.  It wouldn’t be my choice.”
    We’re not like the spider version in that we don’t kill our mates ourselves.  Death itself decides whether or not to come upon them.  We just increase the chances.
    He looked relieved that I’d grasped it without him having to spell it out, “It’s a fifty-fifty chance, every time.  If the human Black Widow’s mate is still alive twenty hours after they . . . em, you know . . . then he’s in the clear.  The death always happens in the first twenty hours after . . . you know, the act . . . if it’s going to happen at all.”
    I just sat back, rather saddened.
    He was surely going to break up with me. 
    There was no way he’d stay with me if that was the situation.
    He just bit into his burger and said, “Some chances are worth taking.  I think.”
    I don’t think seven simple words have ever brightened my life as much as those.
    We would be staying together.
    I made a mental note to look into a cure for this condition.
    There is no way I’ll sleep with him while there is still a chance that it would kill him.
    There is no way that I’ll go on forever not sleeping with him.
    There is a cure, or maybe a spell, I told myself.
    I shall find it.
    “What are you writing about?”  Angelica asks me, innocently reading her book about frogs.
    I tell her that I am writing about nothing.
    Nothing at all.
    She wonders aloud why I write everything down.  She finds this behaviour awfully unorthodox, she confesses. 
    I write because I am paranoid about forgetting my memories.  I am about to tell her this when we are both distracted by someone bursting into the room.
    It’s Daniel.
    “What are you doing here?”  Angelica chastises, “This is the girl’s dorm!”
    He ignores her and closes the door.
    It’s then that I notice his fear is at a dangerously high level.
    I’ve never seen this amount of terror in someone’s head.
    Angelica senses it too.  She asks him what’s wrong.
    His hands are shaking.  He can’t speak.
    He hands me a piece of paper.
    It is a cut out, from the newspaper this morning.  It’s the article about the poor man who was buried alive and left for dead.
    Daniel gestures that I should turn it over.
    I do so.
    On the back there is a message.
     
    Hi Daniel
     
    It Will Be Your Turn Soon.
     
    Regards,
    Rejon

Chapter Six
     
    I am frozen.
    Rejon, a powerful creature of untold evil, is targeting the boy I love.
    Angelica grabs the piece of paper from me.  She reads it.
    Her eyes just stare ahead when she finishes.
    She crumples it in her left hand and throws it to the side, “This means war.”
    “Angelica there isn’t anything we can do,” Daniel says sadly.
    His tone tells me that he is resigned to his fate.  This worries me greatly.
    “There is,” she smiles insanely.  “We can kill him.”
    “We don’t know what he looks like,” Daniel argues.
    I know why he’s arguing with her, why he won’t let us help. 
    There is a new fear in his head; it has to do with Angelica and me.
    He is afraid that we will get hurt if we help him fight off Rejon.
    He