Death Wish

Berith Amon stands behind the glass wall, a scar etched across the soft pink skin of her neck, dark strands of midnight black hair matted against her forehead. She grits her teeth and swallows her pain as she stares angrily at the intricately designed swirls covering the soft length of her pale arms. The memories flood her thoughts like a raging tsunami, forcing the bile in her throat to rise into her nose. Relentless flames of pain lick at her chest, scratching menacingly at the tender confines, threatening to set her ablaze. She reluctantly trails her misty eyes up to the hollow faces of her parents and lets out a heart-wrenching sob. She crumbles.

From behind the morgue walls, he watches, expressionless. The girl clenches the front of her sweatshirt, shoulders shaking uncontrollably as her hair shadows her deathly pale face. Berith Amon would be his last assignment.

He would grant her a death wish.