The Daughter Of The Dead

Chapter 1

I had fallen out of my sleeping state to the sound of my alarm screaming at me. Its shout echoes off of my bedroom walls and shatters the peaceful sleepiness in my mind. I pull my fluffy black pillow over my head and groan. I hardly get any sleep thanks to my insomnia. I push the pillow down on the sides of my head to cover my ears, but that stupid alarm is too loud. I throw my pillow across the room, hearing it knock some jackets off of their hangers. I slam my hand down on my alarm clock, sighing loudly as the silence fills my ears. 6:35 Alright, I have ten minutes until training. It feels like it took every last bit of power in me until I can finally manage to pull myself out of bed and place my feet on the cold floor, my toes curling up to the sudden change of temperature. I stand up and let out a tired sigh, I slowly start shuffling across the cold floor. My tired hand wraps around the handle to my dresser as I pull the drawer open, revealing my mainly black clothing. I get dressed in my ripped black skinny jeans and some random black tank top. I head to my desk and open the top drawer then brush out my long raven black hair that had been messy and tangled from tossing and turning in my slumber. I pulled it back so it wouldn't get in my way then I started making my way to the door, leaving my brush on my desk. I jumped as my foot came down on a spider sitting at the opening of my bedroom door. Pain rushed through my foot as it came into contact with the spider, the small black creature shooting it's poison into my body. I carelessly opened the door, pushing the spider backwards and hopped downstairs on one foot, one hand on the smooth, cold railing the other holding my stinging foot. I know the spider couldn't kill me, not much could... I know I can only die once I am ready to give up my job as a reaper and let my soul be put to rest. Although, until that day comes I can still feel pain even though nothing can harm me enough to kill me. I finally make it down the stairs. My burning foot drops to the ground, making a loud thump. I walk into the kitchen expecting to see my father and annoying older brother eating breakfast, instead, all I see is a small, blue note on the table. I walk over to it and slowly pick up the little note. The handwriting is quite scratchy but I can read it fine. I'm used to this writing after all. I can tell it is my father's handwriting and sigh at the thought to what it might say. What could he want this time? 

 "Onyx," I read aloud slowly, "me and your brother have gone for early training. Please meet us there when you wake up, we have a very long day ahead of us." I sigh and look down at the note once more, the handwriting changed to a slightly neater writing, yet still had a creepy look to it. It read 

 "P.S Wake up earlier, you have a lot of catching up to do." 

I throw the small note on the ground and huffed at my brother's stupid comment. He is always so perfect, he could do what I never could and he knows that very well! You'd think older brothers would be supportive of their little sister when they are clearly going through a hard time, but I guess not! My whole life he has just... Ignores me, it was all work, he knows I struggle with the thought of having to hurt people, kill people but instead he yells at me for "being lazy" and "Wasting time." Not everyone wants to take away someone's life for a living... My face probably turns red with anger at the thought of my brother. The things he has done to me. I head over to the kitchen counter and grab a lemon muffin since I don't have much time to eat. My footsteps are heavy as if they want me to stay in place all day. I throw away the wrapper and start to eat the muffin while I head outside to meet my family for training. The sound of my feet stepping on dead leaves fills the quiet, autumn air. It is windy out, so I am glad I pulled my hair back, otherwise it would have been blowing in my face and getting messy. One of the things I hate most was having messy hair. The autumn sounds calm me down. Knowing that it won't help if they see how angry I am, so I take a few breaths and close my eyes. When I open them I look down to see my hands are balled up into fists, my knuckles would have turned white if my skin wasn't already a deathly pale color. I finish my muffin just as I approach the training site.