If I had learned one thing in my short afterlife, it was that people who had glowing purple eyes were bad news. I was generalizing, but when everyone with purple eyes so far had tried to kill me, I felt safe with this assumption. Sure, I didn't if a kid would be able to choke me. I doubted she could wrap her hands around my throat, but stranger things happened. Outrunning the weird creature living in the girl happened to be one of those things. Well, that and the fact the candle stuck to its head disappeared with it.

"Can I help you?" Marie's mom asked. She stood up, her hair moving in a gust of wind; her hand flew to her hat. She pinned it to her head, keeping it in place and from becoming a tumbleweed.

"Uh, yeah," I said; my words flowed off of my lips, heavy like syrup, they twisted into a perfect imitation of her language. "I'm part of a performance group, I'm the statue for them, but we got separated, and-" A loud, sharp giggle cut off the rest of my sentence. I looked at Marie.

Her face held a toothy grin. On her sister, it would've been something you'd expect to see in her school picture. A smile too wide and strained to be natural. On Marie, it looked like the type of expression a shark would wear as it tore at you. She rocked on her feet: heel to toe, toe to heel, heel to toe.

"It's not nice to lie," she said. Her eyes pierced mine. "The nice lady says it's not good manners."

I swallowed, suddenly finding my throat dry and scratchy. Falling back a step, I glanced around. No one else was there, no other living thing stood in the street, even the birds had fallen silent. My eyes trained back on Marie as a cloud passed in front of the sun. Hers lost some of their glow, and my hand loosened around my scythe. The moment that happened, Marie's eyes flared. She lunged at me. With her teeth bared and her hair flowing in a gust, she looked like a feral child. Her hands clawed at the air, and I held her at bay with one hand on her forehead. Sweat slicked her skin.

"So do you want to control your kid? Or am I supposed to hold her like this until she needs her nap?"

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what's gotten into her. Marie, stop that!" Marie's mom rushed down the stairs. She slipped her hands under Marie's arms and lifted. A loud grunt left her, as she managed to get Marie's feet off of the ground. "She wasn't this heavy this morning." That comment, along with suddenly finding herself in the air, did nothing to stop the flailing, screeching, and kicking kid. The question lingering in the back of my mind popped up again: was this Marie or that creature?

"Why did I agree to this?" I mumbled, continuing to watch Marie struggle against her mom. Purple light drew trails after her eyes, mapping out exactly which way she had whipped her head. Make her eyes blue, throw in sparks and a high risk of getting burned or losing a limb, and she'd be perfect for Fourth of July parties. I had no idea how to deal with an immortal by myself; I didn't know if I could kill one or not.

"Ines, go inside," the mom said. Ines, the other daughter, nodded. She ran up the steps, with both her mom and I watching her. In that moment of distraction, Marie slammed an elbow back. She broke free and rushed at me. The light from her eyes expanded to encase her entire body in purple. I didn't like that glow; it didn't seem safe. Now, I'm not saying it was safe to fight in the middle of the street because it wasn't, but I'm dead. It wasn't like getting hit by a car would kill me again. Marie rushed me, the eerie smile still on her lips. I dodged to the side, sticking my foot out to trip her. Her body hit the ground, and she rolled for a small distance. It didn't take her more than a second to scramble to her feet. Blood ran down her arm, stemming from her scrapped elbow. She watched it trail towards her hand. It reached her wrist and stopped. It moved in reverse, crawling up her skin and into the wound, which sealed as though it had never existed.

The light grew harsh, and her toothy, creepy smile spread even further. This wasn't Marie anymore. It wasn't the creature either. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. This was something a lot worse. Something more dangerous for me to face on my own. Life.

"Do you want to play?" Marie asked. The voice was hers, mostly. It still sounded like her, but dark intent lurked behind her words. "Do you want to play with me forever?"

"Okay, when did this turn into a horror movie?!"

Something whirled through the air. If I had reacted a second later, if I hadn't been paying attention, the child-sized razor frisbee would've lodge itself squarely in my chest. All in all, it wouldn't have been fun. Luckily for me, and my clothes, I pulled my scythe up just in time. It glanced off the metal blade, flying somewhere out of view. I didn't get a chance to relax because another one flew towards me. My body twisted as I narrowly avoided the dangerous metal edge. I tried to focus; I tried to summon something, Heaven's Grace or Hell's Fury or a talking dog. I didn't care, but she made it hard. If my attention drifted from her for a second, more weapons would be headed towards an impact with my face.

I gasped. Sharp, burning pain bloomed from my side. Liquid coated my hand. My momentary distraction provided her with all the opportunity she needed to land a couple more hits. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep her from figuring out how bad it hurt. It felt like a paper cut, but worse.

Marie stood in the middle of the road, rocking on her feet and acting as if she wasn't holding dangerous weapons. They disappeared. She moved her hands behind her back and started singing a song. The horror-movie level went up by three, with the darkening sky and thunder doing nothing to lower it.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to lift my scythe. Marie's mother stood frozen behind her. She probably couldn't figure out what was going on, I couldn't blame her. I barely knew what was going on. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye; Ines stood half-hidden behind the door.

"You should have stayed out of this." This wasn't Marie, the childhood innocence, no matter how creepy it had been, was gone. The only thing left was Life, using the body like a drone. "I could've resurrected you, given you a second chance." The aura of purple faded away. Weeds sprouted through the bricks around her feet, denying any thought that Life left.

"Yeah, but you see, then everyone would expect me to tell some story about heaven being real. And I don't know how people would take learning God plays the Sims and that he's kinda a jerk to mortals," I said.

As soon as the words left my lips, a loud, animalistic growl echoed around the area; it came from Marie's body. She lunged forward, faster than I could see. I braced myself.

A blade stabbed through muscle and tissue, sinking up to its hilt in soft flesh. Red blood stained Marie's clothes; the purple vanished from her eyes, along with any light once held within. She hung on the knife like a bird on a thorn.

Tremors wracked my body, and I couldn't move. My gaze locked onto Marie's dead body. A scream rang in my ears; I didn't know if it was mine, the sister's, or the mom's. Marie's corpse collapse in a heap when the knife dissolved into dark particles. Death turned.

"Let's go, kid," he said. Wind caught in his cloak, billowing it behind him as he walked away. I didn't follow, stuck staring at Marie. "Kid?" His footsteps stopped before growing louder as he jogged back to me. "Hey, come on, we don't have all day."

I didn't react, staring blankly even when the dark fabric of Death's cloak moved in front of me. Smooth cloth brushed against my cheek as Death grabbed my chin. He forced me to look at him. Even though my eyes were locked on him, I could hear Marie's mom screaming and crying and calling Death a demon. No, as she called us demons.

He pulled the scythe from my grasp. Without removing his other hand from my face, he swung it. He pulled me into the house, and I heard the scythe clattering as it settled into the umbrella stand. I couldn't remember anything else between the door and the couch. I blinked, my eyelids heavy. Many blankets draped my shoulders, and a steaming mug of tea sat on the coffee table in front of me. Death sat beside me. He said nothing, instead choosing to turn on old cartoons.

It took three minutes for him to mute the television. "Kid, you know why I had to kill her."

My head barely moved as I offered him a slight nod. I wasn't paying attention to him. The only thing I could see was her corpse hitting the ground, the blood pooling around her small body. I pressed my palms into my eyes, desperate to get rid of the image. No matter how hard I tried to replace it with the colors and blinking lights, the memory remained. It was etched into my mind, the same way names are carved into desks. Hands wrapped around my wrists, pulling my hands down. He forced me to face him. I expected to get yelled at. You're a reaper, you can't let things like this get to you.

Pulling me forward, Death tucked me into a hug. One arm wrapped around me, he let my head rest against his shoulder. He held me close enough that I could've felt his heartbeat if he had one. "Focus on my voice, kid. Focus on me," he said, his voice soft. It seemed like he was trying to lull me to sleep. He kept talking in the soft tone, barely pausing when I clutched at his cloak.

No matter the thoughts and images running through my head, I didn't cry. I wouldn't let myself. What Death would say after I calmed down was unimaginable, and I didn't want to think about what he'd say if I bawled my eyes out.

"I know you're trying not to cry right now, but you're doing a horrible job of it," Death said, prying me away from him. "Honestly, kid, you act like I'll yell at you for the stupidest things." A box of tissues appeared in his hand.  He wiped my face, and the tears still falling down it. "I don't like killing kids. Haven't for a while, but when one of those things gets inside a mortal... Well, I have to do my job."

"Did you have to stab her like that?" I whispered.

"Would you rather see your kid be stabbed or see them turn to dust? I was trying to be considerate. Now come here, I need to see if you're injured."

"I'm fine, Death."

"I highly doubt that." His fingers effortlessly undid the clasp of my cloak. It disappeared, and I was left in clothes I died in. He pressed his hand against the bleeding gash in my side. I winced. "And, just to be clear, I'm talking about physically and mentally. She roughed you up, and you watched me murder a small child." Without missing a beat, he pulled off his gloves and healed the cuts and slices, staying silent the entire time. He sighed, dropping his hand. "I'm not going to yell at you if you're upset. I murdered a kid, someone who could've lived a long time if Life hadn't butted her nose in."

Shock held me still as Death pulled me into another hug. I struggled to breathe, and I struggled against him until I remembered, I'm dead. I don't have to breathe. Death used his free hand to turn the volume back on.

"You okay, kid?"

"You're warm!" I said, not moving too much, trying to absorb some of the heat. I wasn't lying. The warmth radiating from his body could rival that of the archangels'. It seeped into my bones, and I relaxed. The images faded. It wasn't I forgot about what happened, it was that I felt like I was wrapped in a blanket fresh out of the dryer.

"And?"

"You try going this long, feeling absolutely nothing. Besides that time with Michael, the last time I felt anything other than nothingness was before I died. Even then, it wasn't exactly the warmest day." As thoughts of my demise passed through my mind, I frowned. "What's going to happen to Marie? To her soul?"

"Children usually end up in Heaven. She'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"I mean, she could be like the kids who shoot BB guns at cats. They end up in Hell. God may not look it, but he's a cat person. It's kinda funny actually you ever seen a cat chew an angel's wing?"

"No, and I'm not sure I want to."

Chuckling, Death moved me away from him. The heavy blankets disappeared. "Take a nap, kid," he said, ruffling my hair. A warm cloth draped over my body as if that made up for losing the pile of ten blankets. "Try not to lose my cloak. I need it later."

"You're saying that like I lose a lot of stuff. Name one thing I've lost."

"Uh, your life?"

Chapter: 2,349

Book: 31,947

Well, am I going to do anything I'm supposed to? No.

Will I type chapters? Yes.

How'd you like it?

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