The Grim Reaper Is A Teenage Girl

Everyday life

                         The Ronin

Working at the morgue as an assassin feels like I'm the Grim Reaper incarnate. By day, I work with the dead. By night, I create them. It's the perfect cover job. Who would suspect the nice morgue boy with tattoos like a coloring book?

My head aches from all the alcohol I downed after my successful mission. It was an easy one: just a little butterfly that strayed too far from her owner.

Now, I'm working on a body, an elderly grandmother who slipped in the bathtub and messed up her head. It's a sad way to go, and it reminds me of my own mother. I hope she never meets a fate like this. She's too pure for such an end, and she must never find out what I do for a living. That's why I got this cover job, just to make her happy. I send all my morgue paychecks to her, blissfully ignorant of my true income.

One of my coworkers, Leslie, entered the room, trying to make small talk.

"Hey, Ajax, did you hear about what happened at Prestigious? That stripper club?" she asked, curiosity bubbling in her voice.

"No idea. I was at home with my dog," I lied smoothly. Of course, I knew what had happened there. I was the reason for the incident.

Leslie gave me a skeptical look but didn't press further. I continued my work, and the stark contrast of my double life never ceases to amuse me.

My phone begins to ring, pulling me out of my thoughts. I grab it and answer without checking the caller ID.

"Hello, Ajax speaking," I say casually.

"Ajax, what the fuck did you do at Prestigious? Are you out of your fucking mind?" Archer's voice blasts through the speaker, full of anger and frustration.

I roll my eyes, leaning back against the counter. "Nice to hear from you too, Archer. It was just a mission. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is you left a trail. That place is crawling with cops and everyone's talking about it, You left that fucker alive. You need to be more careful," he growls.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Relax, Archer. I took care of it. No one knew it was me. Besides, what's a little chaos? Keeps things interesting."

"Interesting?" Archer snaps. "This isn't a game, Ajax. You can't keep risking exposure like this. And what about Lily? You think she's ready for this kind of bullshit?"

I pause, guilt creeping in. Lily, my apprentice. I've been trying to shield her from the darker parts of this life, but Archer has a point. "Lily's fine. She's tough. But I get it, I'll be more careful. Alright?"

"You better be," Archer says, his tone softening slightly. "We can't afford any mistakes. Especially not now."

"Yeah, yeah. I hear you," I reply, hanging up before he can lecture me further. I pocket my phone and take a deep breath. This life isn't easy, but it's the only one I know.

I return to my work, trying to shake off the conversation. But Archer's words linger in my mind. I need to find a better balance. For Lily's sake, and for my own.

Archer's always up in arms about every little thing. Can't even let Lillith breathe without having a panic attack. "What the fuck did you do at Prestigious?" he says, like I'm his fucking servent or something.

But guess what, Archer? I don't give a shit about your paranoia. Lillith's a tough cookie, and she's got this. So back the fuck off and let her do her thing. I've got better things to do than listen to your overprotective bullshit.

Meanwhile, I'm elbow-deep in embalming fluid, working on this raisin-looking woman. The stench of formaldehyde fills the room, reminds me of Archer's smell, mixing with the faint aroma of decay. It's a delicate process, one that requires precision and care, but I've got it down to an art. And yet, here I am, dealing with Archer's drama instead of focusing on my work.