Afterlife (yandere! Gods x dead! Reader)

1

WARNING: This is a complete work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously, but understand that this is a particularly graphic chapter.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

~~~

Work was slow, per the usual of a dying business, but even so you stayed alert. Given a good hour since the last person strutted off empty handed, the bell chime sounded, startling you slightly, a little ember of excitement burning when you perked up, almost desperate for client interaction, but was promptly doused at the sight of your coworker striding from the entrance.

Note, there was nothing wrong with Charlotte, only that the monotonous events were starting to irritate you. Plus, a lack of customers meant nothing good for your monthly bills and possible future in this position.

Charlotte, despite the eloquence of the name, was anything but eloquent, having grown up the only girl among three brothers on a poor excuse for a ranch, she was about as rough-and-tumble as they got. You had to teach the poor girl how to use the desktop computer before teaching her the program, and she still insisted on using the mouse or mini touchpad on the keyboard over the touch screen, though you can't say you blame her with how dirty it can get.

"Hey (Y/n)" It was short but not impolite, much like your relationship with her. You weren't work friends but you mildly enjoyed each other's company simply because you never got in each other's way.

"Hey," it wasn't so much of a reply as an acknowledgement of her presence for the sake of a "healthy work environment", a concept you would die a little hearing (the term always reverberating in your mind in a low, nasally man's voice as if a personification of corporate) but understood well enough to participate.

You hadn't noticed you had been standing there for so long, however, that soon enough a pile of various supplies filled the expanse of your vision and the counter you were previously staring down. Startled, you looked up to see an average looking man about your age, taking his card out of his wallet even before you started scanning things.

Quickly, you started scanning and bagging the various items. Now, note that if you weren't working at a hardware store right now, you would have found this assortment of items strange and maybe a little concerning, 'a wheel of rope, two box cutters of the same model, a moderately sized hack saw, a crowbar, about 15 rolls of duct tape, three packs of nails and a mallet and.... Bug spray? Man, this guy looks like he's about to kill someone and hide the body'

"Do you have your ID on you?" You asked quietly.

"No? Why do you need to see it?" The question was rhetorical and said as if you were stupid to ask for it.

"I'm sorry sir, but we do require an ID to let you buy the knives and the crowbar." You held your hands together and practically bowed out of apology but remained steadfast. The man looked like he was about to start an argument but just rolled his eyes and gave a growl "be right back" as he left the store to retrieve his ID from his truck. 30 seconds later and he was walking back into the store, another man close behind him but was left surprised as he neglected to hold the door open for him. He marched up to the counter and he was back in the same position only now, holding his ID card up to your face.

"Can I just-" and you started lifting up your hand to reach for it until he quickly snatched it back before you could touch it.

"No." He immediately put his ID into his wallet and took his card back out. You didn't get much of a look, but you weren't going to risk him causing a scene by asking him to take it back out, so you simply turned back to the computer. 'First name: x; Last name: x, date of birth: 11/19/1999; ID number: x.' The man shoved his card into the chip reader and yanked it out at the first sound of the pin pad. He was grabbing the bags and out the door before you even got to print the receipt. 'Whatever, I'm not paid enough to give a shit.' You think back fondly about what your ever so wise former manager had said to you within the first week of getting the job. 'Act your wage,' she had said, and it stuck with you so far.