Stephen was only 13 when I first met him. His tears, like most I visit, were like steady waterfalls; they were silent, but powerful in a strange way. He sat in the waiting room, shivering and sobbing, as the bright lights bore down on him. The people around him didn't pay much, if any, attention to the poor boy. I took notice of him, mainly because he took notice of me. He shuttered and cried even harder when he sensed me. Most children his age do not comprehend Death, but little Stephen knew me like an old friend. He has never seen me, but he could take notice of my presence whenever such an occasion should arise. During this time, Stephen still believed in Heroes, like Superman or Batman, who seemed to have the ability to constantly escape me just in time. After this night, however, that would all change. It wasn't Stephen I was here for, at least not yet. I came for his mother, Kaitlyn, who was in the Emergency Room waiting for me. I sauntered into the room when the doctor left. Her lips were cracked like broken glass and her hair was snow white. Her eyes sunk from the burden of staying up all night coughing. Her wrinkles were like valleys on her head. Her eyes grew wide and bright when I walked in. She knew I was there and she knew what I wanted but she refused to believe it. Her will to survive, her will to take care of Stephen was so great it was almost enough to banish me, but she was weak and her heart was beating slower every minute. Her soul cried out a final request and I heard it.
"Make sure he stays safe."
I then reached inside her and grabbed her soul and released it among the stars, where the world would be able to forever marvel at her beauty.
