Reaper [Zarry]

death three

It was so easy. All it took was the twist of my hands around his thick neck. There was no struggle, no fight.

Just him gasping for air, eyes snapping closed as his limp body slipped from my grasp, slumping down the brick wall.

It's what he deserved. The boy worked so hard. He earned it and the bastard gave the promotion to his golfing buddy. It's all sick, twisted politics.

Cold hands. Always cold. Slender fingers and lanky legs.

My thoughts wander back to the boy who radiated heat, face nuzzled in the crook of my neck. He was so trusting and so innocent. It was pitiful how desperate he wanted me to be there for him in his altered state of drunkenness.

But I understand better than anyone. I've gone years without feeling something that long, without being touched. Its was glorious, relishing in his warmth, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the lull of his heart.

I'm onto the next one, an old woman with wipsy hair.

She can't remember much at all. It's times like these when I actually like my job. When people are terminally ill or suffering and they can't seem to find any peace.

That's why she dies in a sheer cotton nightgown in her own bed, wrapped in old petal print sheets that smell like lilac and fabric softener.

Exactly how I wanted her to go.

What would he think if he knew who I really was? I'm a cruel monster with close to no remorse.

My eyelids sqeeze shut and I fight back tears for the first time in a long time.

So soft and so pale, eyes so kind. There's a special place in Heaven for people like him.

It's wrong of me to believe in such a thing; it's risky to think like that but there is a higher power. Someone stronger than the devil, someone that grants forgiveness and asks for nothing in return but devotion and repenting your sins.

What a beautiful picture. Fluffy white clouds in a vast baby blue sky.

The Earth shifts around me, ground falling out beneath my feet. Im sinking

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down down until my body is covered in a sheen of sweat, sticky hair plastered to my forehead

Lashings that sting, the whip breaking the skin of my back and I'm begging for mercy, knees pressing to the ashy ground. The air slashes my open wounds and it's like pouring salt. The shock of the blows has my entire body shaking, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You will obey me," he hisses.

It's like my back is on fire. When he stops I crumple, body folding in on itself.

Was it worth it? Is it worth the pain?

"Stop testing me," his eyes etch into my skin. "Is that understood?"

I wish I could die. I wish I could die. I wish I wasn't already dead. I'm stuck here for eternity.

Sometimes I feel alive. Sometimes I can hear my heart, feel the blood pumping through my veins, pulse strumming in my neck.

I remain silent, throat swollen, taste of salty tears fresh on my tongue.

"Answer me," he growls.

My hand shields my eyes as I glance up briefly at him.

"I won't disappoint you again."

I'm still full on sobbing when I get home, hands tugging at my hair frustrated.

What is wrong with me? How could I let this happen?

Would you still want to be my friend? I've killed everyone that has ever mattered to be. I take innocent lives.

A hideous, vile creature. When I look in the mirror my reflection is ugly. Is this what everyone else sees?

I blink and then when I open my eyes I'm met with a sharp jawline and honey colored eyes. The soft sweep of pink lips and thick groomed brows.

Droplets of blood pool at my feet and I shallow, turning slightly to get a better view.

My heart shudders in my chest and I gasp, eyes widening as I assess the damage.

This is worse than I thought. I wish I was still numb.

The pain is so insurmountable I continue weeping, face buried in my hands. I feel so weak, body trembling.

I didn't used to be like this. I was strong. I blocked the pain. I felt nothing.

He changed me.

What am I?

What would life be like if I was a human? Would it be significant? Would I feel everything deeply? Would I experience pain and sadness and heartache and joy? Would I fall in love?

Has he ever been in love? Has someone tell him how much he meant to them, how beautiful he is?

All I can remember is the way he begged for me to stay and the way he fit so perfectly in my arms. Like two locking puzzle pieces, him filling the emptiness inside of me. Little creases and crevices and the holes in my heart suddenly whole again.

Maybe he never felt that type of love. It only makes me hurt worse.

The pain in my heart outweighs the pain of my peeling flesh.

Forgive me, forgive me Harry. I told you to stay away. I said I never wanted to hurt you. You're the purest soul I've ever met. You restored my faith in humanity.

I hate myself. I turn away disgusted, feet gently padding across the floor. It's dark and dingy in my flat so I open the blinds.

It's equally drab outside, rain pelting down, little droplets running down the windows, the soft patter tapping against the roof.

I'm preparing myself, pulse caught in my throat as I crack open my bedroom door.

Just breathe Zayn. Inhale. Exhale. Maybe it won't be so bad.

There he is, pale body on my bed, cheek creasing the pillowcase. Brown curls spill over his eyes. He's tangled in the sheets and I want him to stay like that forever.

I slowly inch closer, placing my hand over his forehead.

Oh Zayn. Surely you've lost your mind.

A/N: 👀