Grimm's Little Reaper

Prologue

Prologue

Two Years Ago

I felt the tear trail down my face, my dark brown hair and rosy cheeks glistened. The cold, eerie bathroom walls mocked me just as the other orphans have. The piece of metal pulsed in my hand as if it had a heartbeat of it's own. It's shine twinkled at me; it was daring me.

I have lived here for three weeks. The Dewberry Orphanage. My parents decided to go and get themselves killed in a car accident and not take me with them. I just have to be with them. I just have to.

With my eyes squeezed tight, I brought the blade hesitantly down onto my skin awaiting for the inevitable pain. Mom, dad I'm coming to see you.

My eyes shot open when I felt a cold unbearable grasp on my wrist.

I looked around and realized the bathroom around me had become dreadfully fuzzy and blurry.

I looked down at the open skin. My wound wasn't bleeding. Inside there was nothing, but darkness. On one side of the open wound skin shot out and grabbed the other side. It slowly weaved a crisscross pattern and closed the opening; leaving perfect unharmed skin. My eyes widened. I slowly looked up at the figure that had grabbed my wrist.

He was hooded. His hand was pure bone, in the other hand he held a long razor sharp scythe. His black cloak is ripped, torn, and old. It draped across his shoulders and head in a delicate yet dreary way. 

I could barely make out his head in the shadow of his cloak. I couldn't see his feet, no he wasn't even touching the ground, he was floating. He floated around me with a deathly slow grace.

The blurry version of the bathroom started making my head pound. A dull gray mist covered my feet.

"Willow, why do you want to die?" The hooded figure stopped in front of me. I shuddered. As creepy crawlies dashed down my spine that's when I realized something. He is death. That means I'm dead.

"W-where are my parents?" I stuttered. I didn't realize how scared I was.

"Parents? Not here, They have gone into their afterlife," He said with a calm tone. He took his bony hand and scratched his arm. I winced at the sound. It was like nails on a chalk board.

"Why didn't you take me with them? I need them!" I yelled. My knees gave way and I felt my body try to slump to the ground, but some sort of force kept me held up.

"It wasn't your time to die. I have a better offer for you," His raspy voice turned surprisingly sweet and desprate. I narrowed my eyes and waited for him to continue.

"My silence is your cue," I said with a skeptical look. 

He slowly pulled his hood back revealing a glistening skull weathered and worn, but it still had a faded gleam.

I felt my breath hitch. The closer he inched toward me the more his bones rattled.

"A little respect," He snarled he then cleared his throat... if death even has a throat.

"How would you like to be a Reaper?" He continued very cool and collected. I shivered again as more creepy crawlies dashed down my spine.

"What's a Reaper? Why won't you just let me die?" I huffed, struggling against the force that remained around my body. My feet were no longer touching the ground; now I was dangling in mid air. I felt like I was being prepped for slaughter.

I let out a whimper as the force around me tightened. It got to the point where I wasn't even able to struggle. I looked at Death without moving my head; seeing as the only things I'm able to move are my eyes.