Death Before Me

Relaxation

When it comes to something relaxing, many will think of fish. They make no noise, they just swim around, and have the most gorgeous colors. When ever Hart would get stressed out, he would stare at his black and red betta, he watched him just swim around. Hart would smile eventually and would just fall asleep without a problem. He named his fish Bloody Mary, because that was the color would remind him of. His mother hated it, and thought he was crazy, his dad loved the name and was the happiest with his son, making a good connection, even if it was with a crazy person. Now that Hart was a king, he never got a betta never really got to even think about it. He wanted to buy one for his children and himself. Sadly he knew that wouldn't really happen, but he wished. He took a deep breath, sitting in his throne, he would remember his Bloody Mary whenever he was stressed, it didn't really help that he couldn't see it, so it didn't calm him down, only made him sad. Looking around his empty castle, he could only groan, " I have a wife, I have a kid, yet I still feel like the loneliest person in this hell. Why me," he would always ask himself that. Yet he would never get an answer, he really never even knew the answer to that. He never would. Being the actual God of Death, was a nice title to his name, Jackston Hart, God of Death. It was a beautiful title, but he really wondered why he got it, he was weak, he had many problems, but God, or Satan, whoever, picked him. He took a deep breath closing his eyes, imagining his little betta, his bloody, and his stressed died down a little. As soon as he would get just a bit better, someone would show up and give him any sort of bad news, and the stress would spike right back up. His wife would often try and massage his back, that would help for a while. All he really wanted was his fish, yet he couldn't get one. On October 13, his birthday, he always wished that just maybe he would receive a fish like Bloody Mary, but then he was rudely awakened and reminded that he was a twenty-seven year old king, and getting a fish, would be very childish. Often his birthday was completely forgotten, and never to be celebrated. The child in him, would cry, not wanting to be forgotten on his own birthday. No one had time for Jackston's birthday, no one seemed to really care that their king was a year older. Why would they, Hart often sat in his bed the entire day, just thinking when he was a kid, how his dad got home right on time, always bearing a gift for his young son. Oh how Hart missed the smiles, hoping they would return one day, soon.