The Journals of Death.

Part Four

Hours passed by in tedium as I wandered Earth. Each moment that passed vaguely interrupted with a peppering of souls torn from their bodies with just a touch or the scrape of my scythe. I hated this. I hated this so much. Doing things by the book was such a Life thing to do. I wasn't killing anyone. The fact that I existed enabled things to die. I was just collecting the souls that have died, playing reaper.

"Just one more! All of these pages, and I can't find one more legal soul?!" I slammed the book closed and growled. "How do reapers do this every day? What is wrong with them? Why hasn't anyone come up with a better system for this kind of thing?" I muttered and looked at all of the humans down below. "Oh," I realize my mistake, "that's my job, isn't it?" It was precisely because I wasn't doing my job properly that this whole thing had become a huge endeavor. When I got back to my secluded office in The Underworld, I think I should take a look at all of our papers. Even Heaven has a fancy database-like system that they stole from human inventors. If I recall correctly, angels were even using smartphones and the like. Meanwhile, The Underworld was stuck in primitive ages. Mystical papers and pens, quills rather.

I let out a long sigh. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of skidding wheels. Was that...? I think it was. I fell to the earth and walked among the humans. Not too close, of course, or they'd all end up dying. With this soul, I would finally reach the amount Hades requested. I didn't care who this human was. I don't care what he did. I just wanted him to die, and he happened to be in the perfect situation. A car accident. I had spent far too long looking for a legal death, and this one wasn't caused by me but by circumstance.

Legal enough, right?

People whispered to each other after witnessing the tragedy. The excitement of ridding myself of this task ran through my being. I couldn't help but jump for joy. Someone was dying. Finally! Just what the doctor ordered--maybe not. In any case, all I had to do was follow behind the ambulance. I floated above the humans, keeping a careful eye on that vehicle.

He was dying. That much was true. I just had to wait long enough for his soul to leave his body. I could just touch him but since I hadn't checked the list... I didn't know if he was legal or not. Reapers were meant to be bystanders. Although I was technically not a reaper I was supposed to follow these rules. Practice what I preach, as humans said. Watch. Predict. Reap. The list was a set of predictions. It wasn't necessarily set in stone. Confusing, right? That's why I tended to ignore the whole reaper business altogether.

At this point, I was so fed up with waiting that I might've just touched him and forgot about legality. I crossed my arms and hovered in the corner of the hospital room. Who was this kid? He looked homeless, beaten up, dirty. Why did humans care so much about him when he was dying and not while he was living? There were so many doctors and nurses and panicked people trying to save him from the afterlife. Dying wasn't all that bad. I'm... not all that bad. Am I? Am I really something to be avoided so desperately? Why do humans cling onto Life so much?

My knuckles turned white from gripping my scythe so tightly. I inhaled sharply and turned my head to see a woman. She rushed around within the walls of the hospital trying to find the room with the child. Nurses held her back, telling her that it was impossible to see him right now and that he needed urgent treatment. Her knees gave out, and she fell to the floor, tears rolling down her cheeks.

I realized then that I hadn't paid much attention to the accident itself. I was too thrilled about someone dying, about having a final soul to collect, that I ignored it altogether. Was the woman a mother that looked away when the kid ran into the street? She clearly held an attachment to the boy. Was she a stranger that tried to save the child? Or, perhaps, she was the driver that ran into him.

"It looks like the mother," I mused. "She just has that vibe about her." I made my way closer to her, out of curiosity, careful to keep a good enough distance so she wouldn't touch me and stared at her face. No humans can see me unless they were at their end, nearly there, or children. In some cases, people highly aware of the supernatural can sense me but never see me. I don't have to worry about looking like a mumbling idiot with a weapon in a hospital or anywhere else.

"Indeed, it is," a familiarly dreadful voice spoke behind me. I didn't need to turn my head to know that it was Life. Who else would ruin my perfect chance at getting the last soul I needed for my quota?

"Oh, no," I scowled.

"Oh, yes," Life smiled.

"No--no, no, no, no," I whirled around to glare daggers at him. "I will not allow you to just waltz into this situation and steal my prey!" I pointed my finger at Life and stomped my foot. It never came into contact with the ground because, well, I hadn't realized it but I was hovering at this point.

Life sighed. I know that sigh. That's the sigh that says I'm being childish and need to move on. That's the sigh that initiates a series of long sentences in which he preaches to me about how I should go back to the way I was... or even worse... how I should cease existing altogether so he doesn't have to put up with me. Hopefully, he won't start that conversation now. Brush it under the rug. We have this kid to fight over.

"Death, let's be civil about this. Okay?" Life began. Right, okay. Here we go. I suppress my desire to roll my eyes and cross my arms instead. "This child has experienced something terrible. Don't you want to give him a second chance? Don't you feel any sympathy, any pity for him?"

No. I don't. At least, I would never admit that (even if I did) to this beast of a being. I looked at him for some time without saying anything. This gets on his nerves. He feels the need to say or do more. He wants to get his ideas through my 'thick skull,' as he puts it. It's one of his more famous brainwashing techniques. I hate Life with a burning passion unlike any other. He has never cared about me. To him, I'm another being that should submit to the great rulings of Heaven. I'm something to be controlled.

In my silence the angelic figure gestured towards the child. His wings outstretched with his arms. I tried my best to keep my expression neutral. I grit my teeth and force a string of sentences out. This is what they've turned me into. All those angels, all those humans, everything and everyone. This is what they expect me to say. I'll act. I'll play the game. Life's game. They make him something to love and turn me into something to hate. Fine. I'll show you something to hate. Maybe not at this moment, but eventually, eventually I will.