He murdered Richard

Another week passed with the same thought fixed in his mind, never withdrawing from his consciousness as everything seemed to close in around him, strangling him with wails of the departed screeched in his ears; and no matter how much he screamed and sobbed for them to go away, they still popped up on his bedroom walls, tormenting his days and nights.

Inside the dim bathroom, Azrail ignored the humming sound his phone let off, declaring the multiple unread messages coming from Mark and Junia. Staring emotionlessly down at the still water inside of the bathtub, Azrail took off his clothes and dropped himself inside the lukewarm water, engulfing his senseless body. Whether it was day or night outside, Azrail couldn't tell—well, it's not like he ever bothered to find out.

Pulling up the kitchen knife he dumped near the bathtub, Azrail traced his finger lightly around the edges of the honed knife, his image not seeable because of the scarcity of light; but if Azrail were to catch his reflection being mirrored upon the frosty metal of the knife, he was confident that the only thing that he would see was a fading soul; his purpose for surviving even with the deaths he's caused gone.

Letting out a deep exhale, Azrail leaned further down the bathtub until only his face was seeable, cherishing the last bit of warmth the water had to pacify him in his last moments. Death was always by his side, so he figured: Why not submit and go by his side, too?

Moving the kitchen knife towards his heart, Azrail pressed it tenderly on his delicate skin. Not enough pressure to produce a wound, but enough to feel its coolness. Though Azrail was certain he wouldn't be able to remain responsive long enough to tear his heart open as he did with his last patient, he was sure that he could hold on just long enough for it to be split apart. At least that was more poetic than anything he could think of.

With the chill silence of the room subduing his breathing, the coolness of the knife being held at the tip against his sensitive skin, Azrail thought, if he was going down, why not look back upon his life? Like people would do in movies before they were executed?

Yet when he searched back on his life, Azrail became more distressed. All there was to commemorate were the nineteen funerals he had to attend to and the amount of grieving he's done throughout his life. Did he waste his time weeping all those years? No. The best he could do, he thought, was to grieve for the lives he had ended. He viewed this as a way of atoning for what he had done.

Azrail only had two friends—which he had avoided for more than a week—but he never genuinely considered them as his legitimate friends. To him, they were just... there. The purpose of having friends seemed more like a burden than good fortune to him, and so—why misuse time with others when you have others to mourn?

Yes. That was it. His life now was only valuable enough for repenting. Yet he realized he could no longer atone; and so, now he was ending his last life.

Not even sparing a glance at that blaring phone of his, Azrail closed his eyes as his brain did the rest for him.

At that moment, the only thing he could perceive was darkness and the shock, which only lingered for a few seconds. After ten minutes had passed, Azrail's brain ultimately shut down, and now he was finally dead.

After what seemed like an eternity Azrail eventually recovered awareness, his mind wholly functioning as he regarded he was drifting somewhere... or standing? No, he was most definitely standing. The strangest thing that Azrail estimated was that he couldn't tell whether he was floating or standing. To him, it felt like his brain wasn't able to pluck the information around him and notify him of his present plight.

In fact, now that he reflected upon it, he also couldn't smell anything. Nor—no matter how hard he tried—could he pry open his eyelids to see anything. To claim that he heard silence was tough to say. He assumed he could define it as silence, but also didn't know if that was the correct term. It seemed too quiet, but yet too loud.

Azrail's entire situation was too puzzling for him. Everything was this, but it was also this? Which one was it? Even when he wished to reflect more on this question, another thought emerged in his thinking process.

Where was he?

It appears that he was too fixated on figuring out his situation that he overlooked finding out where he was, but even if he tried, Azrail knew he couldn't do anything. Not only could he not perceive his surroundings with his senses, but he also couldn't move his body. Right now all Azrail could do was just stay where he was, leaving him to mull over where he was.

From what he thought, Azrail admitted that most people would panic, frightened of where they were and why they couldn't move; but to him, all of that seemed trivial. Why should any of that nonsense matter? Now that he was dead, nothing mattered to him. It wasn't like anything mattered to him anymore, even when he was still alive.

Azrail no longer felt the need to move. Now he just felt tranquility in the distressing silence as he seemed to be absorbed by a heavy substance. If this was for him for the rest of eternity, then he wouldn't mind. Just him and his thoughts—just like it has always been.

But when he assumed he would finally be alone without the existence of anyone breathing down his neck Azrail became startled as he felt the bitter breath of someone exhaling down his neck, the person's presence sending familiar chills down his spine as only one thought crossed his mind.

Death.

Hearing a low chuckle, the figure shifted away from him, only for Azrail to sense that death was now whirling around him. Perhaps inspecting his figure, Azrail thought. Or was he just directly seeking to intimidate him? If that was the case, it didn't work. Death has been his companion since young. From when it used to frighten him day and night, Azrail now just thought of him as the wind; there, but no one troubled to genuinely think much about it.

Feeling the frigid breath of death once more on his neck, another chuckle could be heard.

"Do you know who I am?" Azrail, if he had authority over his movements, he was sure he would have flinched. Death's voice wasn't what he had predicted it to be. Instead of being hoarse or breathless, Azrail instead heard his voice piercing through the unsettling silence and reach his ears to be a pleasing voice. The feeling of falling water came to his mind to characterize his voice. It was soothing and composed. Now that he reflected on it, having a voice like that and being in charge of ending lives could be convenient for pacifying the newly dead.

"I asked, do you know who I am?" Understanding this question once more, Azrail decided to 'yes' only to remember that he couldn't move his mouth or make a sound. As if reading his thoughts, Death sighed. "Just open your mouth and speak. Quickly answer my question." Not even wishing to give Azrail any pointers, Death just settled behind him, looking as if he was scrutinizing his face.

How could he when there was no light? Well, that was simple. Someone like Death doesn't need the gift of light to see souls.

The feeling to please him swelled on his wounded heart, but no matter how much he tried to pry open his mouth, Azrail couldn't. His mouth felt like it was sealed shut.

"Speak."

Please him.

Without a second thought Azrail thought of what he wished to say and pursued to vocalize it, and this time, it finally worked.

"Death."

An amused giggle followed his response, and the head of death brushed against his neck as if approving his answer. "God of Death, to be more precise. However, pleasantries aren't why I am here. What do you—Azrail—believe I am here for?" The delighted voice of Death made Azrail panic once more. While his presence wasn't much trouble to him, his voice spurred something hidden inside of him. Death's voice commanded reverence and obedience, and that was something that Azrail endeavored to produce as if it was second nature.

"Torture me." The reply he gave showed to dissatisfy Death, but honestly, who wouldn't assume that? So with that in mind, Death tapped Azrail's cheek with his head, a modest frown on his concealed face. "No... that would be a waste of my time. Guess again."

With little time in his patience, Azrail answered hastily. "Send underworld." Hearing the clicking of Death's tongue, Azrail felt dispirited at not getting it right. Did he disappoint him? Detecting that Azrial was getting fidgety for all the wrong reasons, Death tapped him on the cheek once more before withdrawing his head.

"Wrong again. Well, I mustn't waste more precious time. I came here because I am retiring as the God of Death, and so, once you were born, I chose you as the next God of Death to take over my place. You are here because I need to appoint you as the next God of Death," Putting an icy finger against Azrail's lips, Death chuckled. "and you have no say in the matter."

Hearing this, Azrail's eyes suddenly flashed open in surprise as his orbs swiftly darted over to where he thought Death was only to see nothing.

"Over here."

"No," Death chuckled as he left again quickly before Azrail's eyes could spot his figure. "over here!" Noting the slightly annoyed expression of Azrail, Death sighed privately inside.

At least I got him to become more lifelike. Lifelike... he's dead... I'm funny.

Another chuckle erupted from his throat further irking Azrail as he now found his laughter to be obnoxious. Wishing to bring Death back to the subject at hand, Azrail spoke: "Retire?" Turning his head over at Azrail, Death finally recovered his thoughts as he nodded.

"Yes. I will retire, and you will take my place as the God of Death. Questions?" Before Azrail could explode with questions, Death groaned and snapped his fingers, forming a deep slide from underneath him, forcing Azrail to slide down speedily.

As he watched Azrail sliding to the World of the Gods, Death clapped his hands, finally remembering something vital.

"There's also gonna be new gods there, too. Should I...? No kids fine. Now, about that retirement plant..." Roaming further away from the wide circle that appeared on the ground, Death faded from sight, and just in time as the circle closed and the space ceased to exist.