Dissecting The Reaper

Chapter 4

I retrieve a few documents and small effects which include a scalpel from the office before ushering Kid to follow me. I simply cant conduct what is necessary for Kid in this office. it doesnt have what I need to further my agenda with my little experiment. Its ill-equipment and worse of all not sound proof; I did request it, but Lord Death deemed it unnecessary to waste school funding on.so my only option is to take his little son home with me.

School has long since finished, I of course waited until the laughing sun had begun to set before leaving my office with Kid, slinking around under cover of sunset, skirting through the backstreets to avoid any curious questions or prying eyes of the public. Sticking my head out the door and checking the street is clear, I drape a coat over the back of my chair and wheel it out.

I escort Kid through the streets, pushing him along on my favourite chair so we can hurry. Being pushed around is calming Kid down, useful for my work. Hes looking up at me with something unintelligible in his eyes – maybe its gratitude. I throw the doors to my laboratory open and gesture towards the sitting area, where I let Kid sit in the only comfortable chair in there. I head to the kitchen to fix up some tea, unfortunately there are no clean cups left {unsurprising, as I refuse to wash dishes} so I use glass beakers of mine, the edges scorned with precious burn marks from prior experiments.

Heading back to where I left Kid, I watch him from the doorway. He seems disconcerted with the current situation, but verifiably not as neurotic (and therefore uncomfortable) as he was in the classroom earlier. That being said, every so often his body gives a little jolt, as if seeking relief from some horrific withdrawal. "M-My apologies for earlier," he manages to spit out, disdainfully staring at the floor. He seems unable to meet my eyes. That was so humiliating..."

"It's not a problem, really," I reassure, but don't bother to sound particularly comforting. I place a hand on his shoulder, which makes him jump a little. Just at first though, then he relaxes into my hold. I'm playing this so well. Such gentle dusting of the fingers across his skin, the warmth of my breath placing the easily manipulated boy into a deeply dreamlike euphoria. "You've fainted in public before. People learn to avoid disappointment by lowering their expectations," I explain helpfully.

"So?"

"Well..." I pretend to pause and think, pressing a thoughtful finger on my chin and glancing briefly to my ceiling. "You could always stop being so hard on yourself. Try to relax a little more, it makes all the difference"

He huffs sceptically, staring lazily out of my window with his distant golden eyes. They don't sparkle vivaciously like the others his age but hang lifelessly in his skull like forgotten clackers. I wonder how broken he truly is. A damaged subject isn't worth experimenting on to any degree as results end in one of two ways; either predicable and boring or they end up becoming mentally inept. But one so rare is an exception. A grim reaper - that's something so delicious. A subject I crave. I can already picture the thick black lines drawn across his sickly pale skin.

He stops staring out the window and directly gazes at me You know, I thought you were different," he stands, adjusting his neckpiece to the perfect angle. "But you're just saying what the others say. There's nothing that can be done for me now,"

"You're mistaken," I ominously tell him, crashing down into my chair, leaning over the headrest as I dangle my fingers in front of his vision. Their movements mesmerise him. I know how to be suggestive. I keep it up, watching his eyes glaze slightly as he relaxes. I sense he needs me to elaborate, the dazed expression across his face signalling adorable confusion "Im not here to give you CBT or act as a shoulder to cry on,"

" Good," he affirms. "I don't think I could handle another speech from Dad or the others,"

"Lord Death will never understand those of us outside his little perfect haven, " I muse, realising this conversation is actually intellectually stimulating for me. While Kids life experience and wisdom is basic at best, he has the making of a young virtuoso of the melancholic. "But I do. And Im offering you something I dont think youll be able to refuse, "

"Whats that?"

Finally, its time! I cautiously pull my scalpel from the inner linings of my pocket, dangling it daintily between my fingers like a fragile cigarette. I hang vertically, right between his eyes.

"Perfect symmetry,"