The Grim Reaper ✎

5. EMPIRE STATE OF CONFUSION (PART 1)

5. EMPIRE STATE OF CONFUSION (PART 1)

[Written 26/3/18 - 31/3/18 ]

Unedited

//

I woke up with the sound of car horns blaring in my ears.

Groggy, I rolled over - and promptly fell out of my bed. Or was it a couch? Blinking, I stood, and breathed. 

I'm breathing.

I whipped my head around, suddenly aware that I was no longer stuck with Death in the underworld. I promptly then spent the next fifteen minutes crying, laughing hysterically, and every other action related to freaking out. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I'm breathing. I'm breathing. I'm breathing. I slapped myself in the face to make sure that this wasn't some trick of Death's. My cheek stung, and I'd never felt so happy to feel pain before.

I'm alive.

Suddenly, I stood. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. I could barely keep up.

Okay, okay, Natalie. Chill. Breathe. I sucked in a deep, cool, breath of air, and smiled. It felt amazing, better than ice cream or cake or chocolate chip cookies. Glancing around, I finally began to carefully take in my surroundings.

The room I stood in was tiny and so full of furniture that I could barely move around. The bed I fell out of (and yes, it was an actual bed, not a couch) was a single with plain grey sheets that smelled strongly of artificial lemon. A wooden desk with a glaring lamp stood in the corner, cluttered with papers and pens. A rectangular white plastic door towards the right of the bed led out to what I assumed was some kind of hallway, and right above the bed was a mouldy brown curtain. 

I practically leapt for the curtains. Yanking it away from the window behind, I was immediately greeted with the stinging glare of the sun. It took several blinks before I could clearly see what was outside.

It was a city.

It wasn't just any city, either - it was New York City.

In the distance - in the far, far, distance - I could see the Empire State Building, its spire spiralling high into the clouds. Below me, busy New Yorkers hustled and bustled along the sidewalk, with a flurry of cars coming and going. The roar of the engines was almost deafening - I couldn't believe that I hadn't heard them earlier. Guess that happens when you randomly come back to life, I thought as I stepped away from the window. You kinda miss things like that. 

Next, my feet led me to the messy table. Switching off the glaring lamp, I looked down at the papers, and my heart skipped a beat. On the surface, they looked ordinary, innocent, inconspicuous - but the letters...the letters were the same type as the ones on the document that I signed. 

"What do you think you're doing?"

I let out a shriek, dropped the papers, and promptly tripped over my own feet. Landing with a hard oof on the ground, I looked up and came face to face with...Martina?

The short-tempered reaper receptionist stared coldly at me, unimpressed. She seemed much more commanding and intimidating without her boss around. 

I watched as she crossed the room in two strides, picked up the papers, and began shuffling them around. "This is a terrible idea," she quipped, not looking at me. "I told him again and again - this is a terrible idea. But does he ever listen? Nooooo." Martina glanced at me out of the corner of her grey eyes, "You've been here for a grand total of twenty minutes, and what have you done? Oh right, have a full on panic attack."

I'm not quite sure what made me do it - maybe it was my meeting with Death, maybe it was how every impossible thing was happening - but I stood up, walked over to Martina, and slapped her.

Well, that was what I was going for, anyways. I'd made it one step closer to the reaper before she'd suddenly materialised behind me and punched me, hard, on the back of my head. Needless to say, I went down fast.

Martina rolled her eyes and began shoving the papers down a leather briefcase she had been carrying. "Don't try to fight me, Natalie," her voice was chiding, as if she was talking to a toddler. "Unless you want to end up dead again. Capiche?"

I tried my best to glare at her, but the sudden burst of anger and adrenaline was gone none. Softly, I muttered, "Capiche." One day, I'll punch her back. Wonder how she'll like that.

"Great," Martina adjusted her suit jacket, then motioned for me to stand. "Up. It's time for you to start your job."

"My j-?"

"But before you begin, there's a few ground rules we need to go over," Martina interrupted, staring me down. "First," she held up one bony finger, "You don't go around telling people that you're dead."

"But-"

"Two," Martina was relentless. "No contact with anyone you knew when you were alive." 

It was as if Martina had punched me again. My heart beat loudly - slippery in my chest. I saw flecks of red, and my voice cracked as I spoke, "But -"

"Three, you follow the instructions laid out for you." Martina didn't care. Martina didn't care. "Go off-roading and you're back in Hell. That's it! Simple, right?" 

I barely heard her. All I could see were my parent's faces flashing in front of me, and the crash and rip and boom of the accident that took my life. Mom made it, right? She had to. I didn't see her in the waiting room with Bubblegum Girl...

But there had been thousands and thousands of people in the waiting room, and I had been distracted by Bubblegum Girl's constant chatter. She could've been there. She might be dead.

"But what about my Mom?" My voice was soft and cracked and broken, and I felt a warm, salty tear slip down my cheek. "Can I just call her? To see if she's okay? If she's..." 

My voice trailed off as I burst into tears. All sound faded from the room, replaced by my sobs and cries. I could die again if Death wanted it to happen. I could die again and miss out on saying my goodbyes again. I would never see them again. I won't ever see them again.

Martina stood over me, a silent, brooding figure. When I finally had run out of tears to cry, she left the briefcase by my side, and handed me one simple vanilla envelope. "Remember the rules," I heard her say. "I'll be watching you."

I didn't hear her go, but when I finally mustered the strength to look up, she was gone. It was just me, the envelope, and the briefcase in a cluttered, messy, way-too-small-and-overpriced New York City apartment. 

I looked at the envelope before peeling it open. Contrary to its relatively normal appearance, it smelled like death. I pulled out the letter and my eyes immediately jumped to the first few lines:

Dear Candidate,

Welcome to New York, the Empire State.

You have 168 hours to complete your task.

Good luck.

//

A/N:

Hey! It's an update! Your answers to the past QOTC were hilarious (thanks for the laughs!) but someone may still be right since I haven't fully explained what Natalie's little "task" is supposed to be yet, so stay tuned!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I do apologize for making the tone of it slightly more serious than the past few chapters. The next several chapters should see the return of my random humor. 

QOTC (Question of the Chapter): What did you think of Martina in this chapter?

Remember to vote and comment if you enjoyed! Thanks so much for reading, and stay tuned for the next chapter :)