The Avengers and the Reaper

Chapter 21: The In-Between

I really have no excuse for my absence. The short version is that I was struggling for a while with whether I should continue this story. I actively try to avoid going to Hell, and this story was something that I thought could get me in trouble. But the requests for this story to continue tugged on my heartstrings and I've decided to go ahead and try to complete it. I really enjoy this plot line and it's really awesome to see other people like it too! I'm sorry for those that waited really long for an update. Thank yous to the people brave enough to ask for me to update!! I know I don't have the courage to do that. Enjoy!
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Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

This sound has been been a steady part of the soundtrack of my life for the past few months.

It began when I threw my scythe into the ground back in Jamton. I saw it bounce a little before finally coming to a halt, lying there like a child's broken toy.

I heard it as I took my scythe and systematically destroyed almost every tombstone in the cemetery. I didn't worry about violating sacredness. As I knew all too well, there was no one in those graves.

I heard it again as I slammed my door shut. I forgot it was a glass door and the shattered remains of it flew at me, tearing and cutting. I let them.

A Grim Reaper has total control over every single tissue, cell, and molecule of their body. Had I wanted to, I could have made my skin crystallize like a diamond. I could have just caught all the glass with my energy threads. Hell, I could have just moved out the way.

I was too numb. Too shocked. Too detached. I let the shards fall on my skin and tear into it.

It's the least I deserved for failing my Mama.

However, I was dripping blood all over the floor. I made my way into my shower where I curled up and sobbed for my first bout of grief.

There were to be many more over the next few months and they all left me feeling hollow.

After the few weeks, I knew I couldn't just hole myself up all winter or I'd never stop mourning.

So I did what I do best.

I started killing people.

I had never been a really popular assasin. I didn't do many big things, but what I did I did flawlessly. This all changed when my mother passed (heart attack, I found out).

I felt  something when I killed people. Like I was doing my job, you know?

I felt as though I was making the world a better place when I slaughtered the enemies of my clients.

Addition by subtraction, you know?

There were several people in my life that would have vehemently disagreed with me.

Nisha, Gwen, and Grim to name the obvious ones.

I cut them all off.

My home was on lockdown, their communication to me was blocked, and I never went to see them.

None of them could understand how much I needed some space.

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"Thorne, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Your loss is something to be sorry about."

This was Gwen and Nisha trying to express their hurt on my behalf. However, they never experienced what losing a loved one felt like.