Dying is never easy.
There’s always that excruciating pain that one receives just by thinking of the method they will use to end their life. In the end, after all the mental and verbal indecision, they find they cannot do it. They cannot end their own life.
That’s where I come in.
Like right now, where I sit a-top a thick branch of an oak tree, watching with a boorish brain as the two figures in the warehouse below contemplate whether-or-not to slice themselves with chainsaw, or use the poison they smuggled and slowly die as their minds deteriorate from the acid of the poison.
Blinking, I watch with un-interest as their conversation continues. “...Well then, what are we supposed to do? We can’t just stay alive-we’ll go to jail! Do you know what they do in jail?-They let other men rape us! Rape! Is that what you want? Do you want some creepy molester to rape you?” A fragile-looking man shouted at the sluggish husky that was his partner-in-crime.
The two men had recently smuggled illegal toxins to various loan sharks, hoping for them to receive better incentive to radiate those who couldn’t “pay up.”This would have been a great success if someone from the shipping tank to where the goods were smuggled, hadn’t found a small vile of the neon liquid left behind. Needless to say, it was given to the police. The police tracked them here.
But they’ll never get here before me. Like always.
I blink as they continue on, hearing the police sirens about ten miles away. It was time for me to make my appearance.
Jumping down, I make no sound. Not even my steps call that another human is approaching. Then again, I doubt that I am considered human anymore.
The Husky man points at me as I walk into the light, cracking my neck and knuckles. I stare at him.
“What-” And that was when the fragile-man noticed me, or more over recognized me. “Y-Y-You’re Dawson’s Reaper! What are you here?!” He looked scared; nothing new to me.
Bending down into my black boot, I grab five blades, each a different angle. Each a different way to kill.
“Holy crap! How many weapons do you have?” The fragile man backed up towards his husky friend, probably hoping for the larger man to protect him. Or act as a sacrifice while he runs safely away.
I just blinked, answering monotonously, “243. Come. I will give you solace. How many methods would you like me to use?”
The husky man just stared at my knifes. Curious I reached out for him, but he did not stare after that. Nor did he breathe. He was dead.
All five of my knives met their marks. One for each eye, one for the throat, one for the groin, one for the heart. He did not even scream.
The fragile man did. He began to run, but I could not have this. Taking a step forward, I found myself on top of him, pinning him down as he flailed to get away.
“Please!” he begged, “Please spare my life!”
My head cocked to the side. I was sent here as a caller, my duty as a Reaper. Yet, he begs to live? That was not what he had wanted. I exist to give people what they want.
To stop his incessant begging, I carved off his mouth with my curved blade from my hair. My ears registered his high-pitched screams as nothing more than an annoying fly. To fix this, I slowly carved out his windpipe, ending the heaving in his chest.
He was dead.
Twisting myself off of him with a handstand, I intake a sharp breath when hands wrapped around my waist, picking me up. They carried me towards the tree where I was perched, out of sight. Behind the figure, I saw the police lights two streets away.
Bradley has saved me in time again.
His hands tightened around my waist as I maneuvered to stand on the branch. Like me, his face was expressionless. He was taller, with his shaggy brown hair going into his intense green eyes, the ones I only saw when he was looking at me. We were dressed alike-in all black. Bradley was exactly one year younger than me, fifteen, where his birthday was the day after mine, not that he bothered to remember his own rather than mine.
I clung to him as the police arrived. Together, we stared down as the officers surveyed the two dead bodies, clean of my weapons. “You have them.” I said, gripping him tighter to me. This was the only time either of us could touch each other; out of sight from Master and the young master.
“Yes,” he replied monotonously, brushing strands of black hair from my face, not taking his eyes off the officers.
“Did your job execute well?”
He nodded.“ I came by to check on you. I watched you do only the weak man. The large one was already down.” It was rare for him to see me work, since the master specifically sends us on missions at least thirty miles away from each other. The chance his was closer is slim. He must have ran.
“...You ran the distance, just to watch me?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t do it again.”
In answer, he unraveled his arms, making me feel more vulnerable than I could have ever felt. I shivered. Bradley turned my face and gave me a quick kiss on my lips.
I froze. More solid than a block of ice. He never does this, never. Not with the jealous young master around, whom would beat him like he always does.
“Don’t look down on me,” his voice lowered to a growl, something I never knew he could achieve. We were Reapers, immune to any emotion, any feeling. At least...that is hat I thought.
“Brad,” I choked out, a first for me with my green eyes so wide. I could see how rare it was for me to act like this in his shocked expression. Just...what was happening to us?
A bell sounded, causing us both to jerk apart, composing ourselves once more.
The police were gone as I reached for my caller device, the number shining with the young master’s name.
I answered immediately, ignoring the glare that came from Brad. “Yes, young master?”
“It is ‘Master’ now, my trinket. Just hearing your sweet, obedient voice makes me oh so aroused. I order you to return home immediately, for I am becoming impatient.”
“Young master-”
“-I told you! You are to address me as MASTER now! Get home so I can f*ck you, b****! That’s an order!”And then the line was dead.
Confusion took hold of my mind as I searched for an explanation, any, to explain the young master’s new authority. It was within the police’s reason to stop the search for a murderer that I found my answer.
Someone on Fords Street was found dead with a single golden bullet lodged in his brain. It was the Master’s prized possession, one that he will surely take with him to his grave, now.
“The Young master?” Brad ground out. He surely found distaste in what the Young master did to me every night, how he touched me. I never told Brad that it is him I think of during the Young master’s “urges.” It is his face that gets me through the sexual abuse. If I could feel love, then surely I would love Bradley.
Pity that I don’t.
“The Master has been murdered. His own gold bullet was lodged into his brain. Young master wishes for us to return home. I will go first before you sneak in, understood? ...He claims to be the Master now...”Our tones must make us boring to any outsiders, how uncaring we are. Then again, this is what makes us Reapers, our hollowness both inside and out.
Brad pulls me to him, anger in his grip. He knows exactly what the Young master plans to do. “I don’t like this.”
At his words, I broke away. Truly if I could, I would cry. However, I just began the run home, with him at my heels, “Good. You are not supposed to like anything. We’re Reapers, remember.”
It was a silent run back until we reached the mansion, hidden in the wilderness by Fords Street. We had to enter through the servants entrance, for that is exactly what we were, here to kill anyone on order by the masters. ...Or just the Young master, now.
It is true that the Master use to abuse me as well, until his son claimed me for his own, threatening to turn in his own father. The entire ordeal meant nothing to me, unless it was ordered to mean something.
“Finally!” exclaimed the Young master as I closed the door to his quarters. Bradley waited outside for me, as always. He was like this no matter how many times I told him to go. Perhaps this is where he began to regain control of his feelings?
Before I knew it, the Young master had ripped my shirt down the middle, beginning to like my “luscious”chest. I could feel the anger in every bite of my skin the Young master took, but still I pictured him to be Brad, threading my fingers through his blond hair as ripped my pants off as well.
Brad...
The Young master was twenty-one years of age. He use to rape the other servant girls before I came by order of the Master. I can’t even remember if I had any family before this. I was so hungry that I had begun to eat myself. True starvation. I had met Bradley when he walked in on one of the Master’s urges, with the Young master waiting for his turn. I remembered I had smiled at him, the first expression I had shown in years, and only to him. That was when the Young master became jealous, beating him.
Bradley never complained, nor regretted my smile. He grew close to me as time progressed, sometimes receiving orders from Master to carry back to my room, despite Young masters protests. Brad would simply take me to his room under the linen closet, for the Young master would come looking for me in my room. Those nights I would cling to him.
Until, one day, I did not want to see him hurt anymore.
Thrown onto his bed, the Young master took off his pants, and raised my bare bottom in the air. Still, I pictured him as Brad, whose anger still radiated from the other side of the door.
Young master must have felt it too.
“Reaper boy! I order you to come in here, now!” One could feel the wicked grin in his voice. Horrifyingly, Bradley came in, his face darkened, expressionless. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, which began to shed tears. He just stared at the Young master.
“Since you care for my b**** so much, I figured you could watch while I dirty her up for you. Hey, this beats listening from the other side of the door!” His voice was running on the verge of hysterics. Without warning, he shoves his hand in a place too painful to say. And it was painful. I had to bit down to keep the screams from leaving my mouth. Out of the corner of my blurry eye, I saw Brad flinch.
“Wh-What t-ime is i-t?” I choke out to the Young master.
He answered gruffly, “2:36am. Why? It’s not like the two of you are going anywhere!” His hand reached further. This bloody scream I unfortunately I could not suppress.
Before I knew it, the hand was wrenched out, and I was gasping in the strong arms that were so use to holding me. Now they were shaking with rage. It was Bradley.
Gasping, I turned my heavy head towards where the Young master lay, arm broken, cursing on the floor. This wasn’t going to end well. Bradley must have known this too, since he bolted out of there with me still cradled in his arms. I could hear the Young master cursing, yelling for us to stop, that it was an order.
It was 2:36, six minutes past our freedom. Orders didn’t affect us anymore.
As we raced for my room in the servant’s quarters, I could hear the beeping of my caller, still signaling the police to rush here since I turned it on when we first came in. It was still in the kitchen, which means that no one was here to turn it off. They were all told to run with their stuff once it turned on, towards their freedom.
Now it was the Reapers turn; to give the final decision.
Once in my room, I jumped up to get dressed, a little unsteady. My legs were still spread from the pain. Finally, Brad helped me change my pants, as I put on a new black shirt and bra. He was careful not to hurt me, but it was hard for him to control his anger, knowing who caused me this pain, and the fact that all he did was watch.
-No, he saved me when I showed that I couldn’t take it. If I could, I would love him.
If I could.
When I was all set, we head towards the forest, knowing the Young master was on our trail, for lead bullets zipped past us into the trees. This time I ran despite the pain, since any pain would be better than the Young master catching us. At least before we caught him.
Spreading out my thin wires, I quickly strung them around the trees, and surely enough, the Young master was trapped.
He was my puppet now.
Entangled, he drops his gun, his whiskey-colored eyes pleading to me. My emotions begin to stir as a smile stretches across my face. Freedom...
“Don’t let me die!” he cries. I tighten my grip on the strings as Bread glues the Young master’s hand to the hilt of a knife-the same one he used to kill the nice maid just last week. If I could, I would have said that I liked her-wait. I can. She was a favorite of mine.
My pointer finger slowly comes toward me, causing the knife in the Young masters hand to slowly place itself in front of his heart.
“Dying is never easy, Young master.”I smile softer,“That’s why I’m here for you. I give you solace.” My voice darkens as his pleas reach my ears, recognized as only but a fly’s buzzing. “For all of eternity.”
One tug. It was over.
The young master has committed suicide.
Bradley tugged at me to get up, only able to pick me up and run. The police were on their way. Tragically, they will only find the young master with a knife in his chest. His hand still glued onto the hilt. The strings were already cut.
I feel as though I should have been the one to die; to ride the world of this emotionless Reaper. Then there was Bradley. He wouldn’t survive without me, I think, He’ll commit suicide.
...Isn’t that for the better?
Getting to my feet, I run with him, hand in hand. We run for five days straight, only stopping for water once. We run, not from the police, nor from the Masters. No, we run because we don’t know what else to do.
Brad squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. I, surely, will never let go of this comfort, of this hand. Neither will he. Maybe, if we are regaining our feelings, then maybe we would love each other, just like the young master.
Maybe.
Thus, I, the Reaper, am at an indecision.
I cannot end my own life.
So... Who will come for me...?