Death sighed at the sight of the corpse hanging from the ceiling. He had seen things like this thousands of times but he still felt that twist of pain in his chest at the sight. The worst part about this one was the scratch marks on the neck of the girl. Regret. That's what that was. Oh, if only he could've stopped her. Whispered in her ear to stick around one more day. Alas, he couldn't commune with the living, only offer the dead his condolences- or his wrath. The teenage girl's spirit still lingered in her body, though her pulse had stopped around ten minutes ago. Death moved to the corpse and pulled the spirit out, severing the connection of body and spirit, effectively erasing any chance of reviving her. Any longer, though, and the spirit would've died. This was Death's favorite part of his job, seeing what a person's spirit would look like. Sometimes they were animals, sometimes they were people, sometimes they were just balls of life. There was no end to the possibilities. The girl looked like herself but much younger- she had to be nine or ten. Her dark skin seemed to glow but her light brown eyes held a crippling sadness that Death assumed lead her to commit such an atrocious act in the first place. 

  "Hello." Death spoke as gently as he could, though his voice was deep and gravely and struck fear in the hearts of mortals instinctively. He hated that. The girl's eyes light up in fear though she did not jump. "What is your name?" Death knew that dying could come as a huge shock to some people, and anger others. So, he tried to talk to people gently when he first met them, that is, until he hears their stories and decided on whether they should be punished- or how severely. The startled look on the girl's face was replaced by defensiveness and suspicion, though Death could tell she was terrified. She knew exactly who he was. Suicide victims always do.

  "Vannessa." She stated plainly, eyeing Death suspiciously. Death did not wear a dark cloak or carry a scythe- nor did he ride a pale horse. He was skinny and pale, boney, but not the skeleton humans seem to think he was. He dressed in a dark grey hoodie with the hood pulled over his head, casting a shadow on his pale face, and dark blue jeans with dark brown boots. His hair was as black as the inside of a coffin but his eyes were a cold, icy blue, the temperature of a corpse, that pierced into the souls of mortals and immortals alike. That, Death knew, was because he had not yet finished judging the spirit. If they were the kind of person who tried to do their best not to hurt people while alive, Death's eyes would turn a calming shade of green. However, if the spirit had knowingly wronged anyone and showed no remorse for doing so, his eyes would turn a deep red that could strike fear in the hearts of the fearless and the foolish. Though judging was not always as black and white as that, that was the general criteria. However, as Death gazed into Vannessa's defensive yet fearful eyes, he knew that she wasn't going to incur his wrath.

  "Who are you?" Vannessa asked, a quiver in her voice she tried and failed to hide. Death knew she knew the answer. 

  "Let us discuss this somewhere else. Where is your favorite place in the whole world?" Death asked, wanting to get both him and the spirit away from the hanging corpse that resembled the spirit in front of him, especially since he could hear footsteps approaching the door. Vannessa thought for a moment.

  "There was this old oak tree my parents, my brother and I used to go when I was little. Can you take me there?" She asked, a hopeful look in her eyes. Death nodded and reached a slender hand out to grab Vannessa's. Her eyes light up in terror at the gesture and he pulled his boney hand back. 

  "I need to be touching some part of you in order to get us both there." Death explained gently, pity dampening his eyes. Vanness stared at the ground and, after a moment, gave a slight nod.

  "My arm." She whispered meekly and Death gently grabbed her upper arm. Just as the door to the bedroom clicked open, Death and the spirit where gone.