When Jerome sees his lover die in his dreams, he thinks it's just his overactive imagination—until the symbols from his nightmare appear in real life.
Jerome has a decent life with a great job as a college professor, a girlfriend half his age, and a house that anyone would kill to own. All of that changes when he goes to sleep and sees Death personified as a grey-haired man with a top hat. Death warns him repeatedly that Bridget, his girlfriend, is going to die, and shows him a scene where she is standing on a street corner with an angry-faced man idling in a tan car. When Bridget's father is attacked after Death warns Jerome about it in a dream, he begins to realize that his nightmares are not just subconscious messages. Death is really a man, a man who is after Bridget. In one of his hateful nightmares, Jerome approaches Death and attempts to get him to stop hunting Bridget. Little does he know that this is the start of a game between him and Death, a game he has to win if he wants Bridget to survive.
When Jerome came through the door that night, Bridget wore a bright red dress with an expensive necklace around her neck. She was so beautiful that even in his frightened state he stopped to stare. It was as if he had peered straight into a mythological world where goddesses were real, and he just happened to be lucky enough to capture one.
"Baby," Bridget said, twirling for him, "what do you think?"
"I think that you may be the most gorgeous creature that I have ever seen," Jerome said, eyes bright.
Flushing as red as her dress, Bridget click-clacked over to him in her flaming high heels and gave him a kiss that tasted like lipstick and something sweeter—strawberries with a hint of wine. She pressed her hand against his chest, running her fingers down where the buckle of his pants met his abdomen. His body quivered in excitement.
"Dr. Jerome William," said Bridget, taking a step back and crossing her arms, "do not tell me that you forgot that tonight my dad is throwing a dinner party, and you so cordially agreed to go."
Horror filled him. He hated Bridget's father with wildfire passion. He didn't remember telling Bridget that he would go, but he likely had. She could make him forget a lot when they were curled up together in bed.
"Bridget," Jerome said, heading forward to grab her hand. It was freezing, which was so not Bridget-like. The Bridget that he loved was always warm. "Bridget, get away from him. This is death, don’t you understand? You’ve got to escape from him and get away—as far away as possible."
"You can’t help her, Jerome," Death said, suddenly releasing her hand and stepping away from her. "You can’t save her. Look around you."