r e a p // michael clifford

Before

A child.

She was only a child. Age 6, to be precise. Dirty, bruised, and crying under a tall maple tree in the park. Untied shoes, tattered, dirty jeans, and an oversized t-shirt, and a small doll gripped tightly in one of the fists that laid by her small legs that were pulled to her chest. She was only a child.

On a normal day, I'd keep walking, but something struck a cord in me. I'd just finished my work and had some free time on my hands.

I approached her, and she wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

She only responded by giving me a wild look with her small baby blue eyes, and pulling her knees closer to her chest. I squatted down to her eye level and held out my hand, as if I were talking to a frightened puppy.

"It's alright, darling. I'm not going to hurt you." I was basically lying through my teeth, but she needed help.

She sniffled, but didn't move. Her black messy curls framed her face.

"I, uh, like your doll." I pointed to the blonde Barbie in the hot pink dress who was missing a shoe. She looked at the doll, then pulled it close to her.

"Are you lost?" I asked.

She shook her head 'no'; the first true response I'd gotten from her.

"Where's your mom and dad?"

She placed her chin on her knees and shrugged. She must have run away; I'd seen this case enough.

"Why are you crying, darling?"

She outstretched her little legs and look somewhat discouraged at the ground as she wiped another stray tear. "I can't tell you. Mommy and Daddy said not to." She then broke in to a little sob.

My heart fell into my chest as I suspected the worst. "Are you hurt?"

She nodded as the tears fell a bit faster. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" I sat on the ground in front of her.

"Can you tell me where?"

She pointed to her left hip. "Here."

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

She nodded and pulled up her shirt lightly to reveal a large green, black, and purple bruise the size of a toaster oven on her hip and somewhat on her stomach. Upon further scanning, I could see her little ribs poking out of her sternum. My heart fell into my chest as it became evident; this little girl was abused.

"Please don't tell. Please don't tell." She cried. "I don't wanna get hurt." She started sobbing.

"It's okay honey. Shhh, shhh. I won't tell. I promise." My heart ached for this little girl. I had to help her somehow.

"Don't cry." I whispered as I wiped a tear from her cheek. She flinched, but then accepted that I wasn't there to hurt her. "I'll help you, okay? I'll make it better."

I looked at my surroundings to make sure no one was paying attention or close enough to care. I made my way closer to the little girl, protecting her and myself from what I had to do. I showed her my hand before slowly reaching out and placing it on the bruise. The color slowly started to fade as I started to heal her. I had to be careful. I was no healer, only a remover. And the only thing I could remove was life.

The girl stopped crying as the pain in her eyes disappeared. She sniffled one last time before the bruise finally receded, and I took my hand away quickly, as if it were placed on a hot stove.

"There. Does it hurt?" I questioned.

"No. How did you do that? Are you magic?" She marveled, poking her small stomach.

"Well, no. I'm....." I couldn't find the right words to say. She was six, how was I going to get her to understand who I really was?

"Are you an angel?" She asked, interrupting my thoughts.

That's it.

"Yes, little one. I'm an angel." I said.

"But why are you here on earth? You should be up in heaven, right?"

I tried wrapping my head around my thoughts, thinking of how to add on to my lie. "Well, no. Not exactly. I come here to help people get to heaven. I have a special tool that opens the door to heaven, but you can't touch it until it's your turn to go."

"Wow, a real live angel." She said. "Thank you angel." She flung herself onto my torso as she hugged me. I quickly hugged her, then quickly took her off before I accidentally sucked the life right out of her.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

The brief silence was interrupted by a voice in the distance. "Eliza?! Eliza Jane?"

Panic flooded into the little girls eyes, as well as tears. "Angel, please help. I can't go back. I can't! They'll hurt me! They'll hurt me!" She cried.

I felt my heart climb into my throat. I didn't know what to do. She couldn't be the next life I had to take.

"You have to go back, little one. I'm sorry."

She broke down into a fit of sobs. "I'm gonna get hurt. I'm gonna get hurt." She mumbled over and over.

Suddenly an idea struck me. I looked around quickly and grabbed a nearby stick and started drawing in the dirt. "Eliza, here, look." I said. I pointed to my drawing: a star drawn inside of a circle. The easiest way to summon a demon

"When you get home, draw this on paper or something, okay? Just draw it and... And put Barbie's shoe in the middle."

"What is it?"

"It's how you call Angels. But make sure you put Barbies show in the middle so I know it's for me, okay? I'm gonna help you. I promise."

Both of our heads swivels to the now close by voice of Eliza's mother.

"What's your name?" She asked quickly through tears.

"Mikey. Now go, and remember what I said."
She nodded and quickly ran in the direction of the voice.

I watched as she ran to a woman with short, curly red hair. The woman was tall and slim, and had a cigarette placed between her gritty teeth. She grabbed Eliza by the wrist and started dragging her out of the park.
Eliza turn back and looked at me one last time before being yanked away by her mother.

That night, Eliza Jane Mariland Thomas, age six of Williamsberg, CA got placed into the town orphanage due to her parents having simultaneous heart attacks. She was later adopted by Lydia and Jason Wiles.

Being Death, it seems as though all you can do is take. But all I did that night was give.