Becoming Death

by Melissa Brown

  “I doubt she’ll feel like I did a good job when she’s lying on the floor with internal bleeding,” I snapped at her.

  “Don’t be such a drama queen. She was always meant to die now. It’s her time, her destiny. You’re just the middle man between here and the afterlife.”

  I reached into the back seat for my duffle bag and opened the car door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “That’s the spirit. Believe me, you’ll feel so much better once this is all over with.”

  We changed quickly in the locker room before walking into the equipment room and scanning the machines for Elizabeth.

  “I don’t think she’s here,” I said.

  “Only one way to find out. Check your app. Maybe she left?”

  I pulled out my phone and traced her current location. A coffin on the screen showed she was still nearby.

  “Let’s keep looking,” Clarissa said, directing me towards the juice bar.

  I paused in the entrance when I saw a blonde with a high pony tail sitting at one of the tables with an amazingly buff guy across from her. That had to be her and hot gym guy. She was talking to him, finally. Good for her.

  “Is that her?” Clarissa asked, motioning her head towards the table.

  I lowered my head as I remembered why I was here.

  “All you have to do is touch her skin and imagine a death for her. Your powers will do the rest. It’s easy,” Clarissa told me pushing me towards their table.

  My legs felt like they were made of Jell-O as I made my way across the room. She laughed and touched the guy’s arm. Seriously? I had only just seen them together and I already shipped them. This situation was straight out of a Whedonesque plotline. She was happy and healthy, so why did she have to die now? The pit of my stomach ached and deep down I knew what I was about to do was wrong, possibly evil.

  I glanced back towards the door but Clarissa saw me and stood in front of it. “Do it,” she mouthed from across the room.

  The guy touched Elizabeth’s cheek, brushing a piece of hair from her eyes as he leaned towards her. Life really wasn’t fair, Death even less so.

  I inched towards their table as I tried to obfuscate, but Elizabeth caught sight of me and looked me directly in the eye. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, hi,” I said, my voice cracking. She gave me an annoyed look and turned her attention back to her date. I continued looking down at the guy. “Sorry, but I think we went to high school together.”

  “Really? You went to Fairfield?” he asked, examining my face. “I’m not good with faces. What’s your name?”

  “That’s alright, I’m bad with names too,” I laughed. “I’m Julie. I think we had math class together senior year.”

  He extended his hand. “Brad. Yeah, you do look really familiar. It’s nice to see someone else who knows the horrors of Mr. Roberts’ class. Do you come here often?”

  Elizabeth coughed.

  “Oh, sorry. Julie, this is Lizzy.” He pointed at the blonde with her arms crossed and her eyes set to disgust.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll have to catch up with you another time.”

  “No, it’s fine. Have a seat. I’ll get you a drink,” Brad said, standing up.

  Elizabeth’s mouth hung open.

  “Oh, thanks. I’d love a strawberry smoothie,” I said, playing with the end of my ponytail.

  Brad smiled as he walked towards the counter. “Cool. Coming right up.”

  I grabbed a chair and started to pull it over when Elizabeth stretched her leg out to stop me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I—”

  “No. I’ve been trying to get that guy to notice me for months. If you think I’m just going to sit back and let some old classmate swoop in to steal him, you’ve got another think coming.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned towards me. “You need to get out of my sight before I get even more pissed.”

  “Woah, I’m so sorry. I’ll go, he’s yours, don’t worry.” I said, reaching my hand out to her. “Truce?”

  “It’s fine, as long as we’re on the same page. Truce.”

  She took my hand and shook it. I thought of a treadmill but was overwhelmed when I felt her soul leaving her body immediately. A building pressure shot down my back and I struggled to stay upright as images of her life flooded before my eyes. A birthday cake with a princess. Her dog dying. Her first kiss with the boy next door. Graduating from college. Her crying as she stood on her scale. Her running. Her lifting weights. Her staring longingly at a piece of cake. Her building up the courage to speak to Brad. I was her—I could feel her memories.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, trying to pull her hand away from mine.

  “Sorry, low blood sugar,” I said, letting go. “Good luck with Brad.” I wiped my eyes as I walked away from her table. Clarissa was wrong. I felt worse now.

  I stood at the edge of the juice bar watching her. My mother had been right. She didn’t die right away. I chewed at my nails wishing for this day to just be over with.

  “We can leave now, if you want,” Clarissa said.

  “You can go. I want to stay. I want to see what happens.”

  Clarissa clenched her jaw. “Fine, we’ll stay, but it might take hours and we have paperwork to do. Are you sure you want to see it? It isn’t going to be pretty, no matter what you imagined.”

  “I owe it to her,” I said.

  Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Stop being so obvious then. Let’s go use one of the machines. Try to get your mind off it for a few minutes at least.”

  I followed Clarissa to a pair of step machines. My feet climbed the steps but my eyes stayed glued to the clock above us. It ticked away the seconds Elizabeth had left and with each minute I breathed a little faster.

  “It’s weird knowing something tragic is going to happen to that girl.”

  Clarissa shrugged. “The first time is always strange. You’ll always remembers it and compare the rest of your reaps to it.”

  I let my eyes sink.

  “It doesn’t get easier but you learn coping strategies. Someday, you won’t even have to speak to them. You’ll just bump into them at the store or the bus and that will be that,” Clarissa explained.

  “What about the whole life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing? You still have to feel who they are and what they will be losing. That can’t be easy to ignore,” I whispered.

  “Most of the time I imagine it’s just a short film.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not heartless, Madison. I just know we have a job to do, and the less guilt I can feel doing it the better of a grim reaper I can be.”

  Out of nowhere my attention turned to Elizabeth entering the equipment room and climbing onto a nearby treadmill. Deep inside of me I could feel it was her time. Her skin looked lighter than before, like the rosiness of her blood had been drained from it. My eyes were glued to her. Time seemed to slow down around me. She smiled as she set the monitor and started her stride.

  She glanced in Brad’s direction and gave him a beckoning wave. He started towards her as she lost her footing, tripping over her shoelace. She fell forwards and slammed into the control panel. The belt sped up, twisting her backwards into the brick wall behind her. A crack echoed through the gym as her skull hit the wall. Blood ran down her face and hair, dyeing it a sickly shade of red. Brad rushed to her side, knelt down next to her and tried to stop the bleeding with his hands. My stomach felt hollow and I wanted to throw up. My mission was accomplished: Elizabeth Daily was dead.

  Chapter 8

  The guilt of Elizabeth Daily’s death still weighed heavy on me when Clarissa dropped me off at my apartment. I stared at my feet as I climbed the stairs, each step feeling like my feet were cast in cement boots. I finally understood what Skye Hawke had felt in her origin issue, when she accidentally killed her sister's murder. Finding out you could kill someone with the flick of your wrist was a disturbing reality. If anyone ever
found out what I could do, there would be scientists lining up at my door to study me. I was different, something alien. No one would ever trust me again if they found out. I paused at the landing to wipe my eyes. I could hide this, keep my identity a secret. For now, I needed to rest, enable myself to dream of a world where I wasn’t forced to murder innocent people and could just be normal again.

  My hands shook as I placed the key into the lock and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Aaron glanced up from his video game. His eyes hovered on me for a moment before turning back to his screen. I could swear he knew something was the matter, that I had done something horrific.

  I dipped my chin to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself as I passed him on my way to my bedroom. He hadn’t spoken to me since yesterday and his cold demeanor seemed to push me further towards breaking point. I slammed my bedroom door shut and blasted music from my laptop. I collapsed onto to my bed, shaking my hair loose from my ponytail like a fiery mane.

  I made a cocoon with my blankets. I’d just live here. I could exist on takeaway food for weeks before someone came looking for me. I laid my head on my pillow as tears gathered at the edges of my eyes and wet the fabric beneath me.

  I cried for myself, for Elizabeth and for anyone else on my future murder list. Because of me, a woman was dead. She would never fall in love, have children or get to retire. It was my fault. I was slowly turning into a monster, like the rest of my family. How was I supposed to control this? Or live with constant guilt? Everyone around me was a potential victim.

  I was startled by a knock at my door.

  Aaron opened the door. “Can you turn down the music? It’s giving me a headache,” Aaron said. His eyes locked on me and he asked, “Mads, are you okay?”

  “Really bad day,” I whispered, turning over to stare at the wall. “Can you just leave me alone?”

  “Is this about our fight?”

  “Some of it,” I said.

  Aaron tilted his head. “I’ll forgive you but you have to tell me what else is wrong.”

  I sat up and blinked repeatedly. “I don’t want to talk about it. You won’t understand anyway.”

  “Really? It’s me, Mads. I’ve been your best friend since we were five.” He sat down on the edge of the bed.

  I held my forehead. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I saw someone die today,” I said.

  “Again?” He smirked.

  I burst out laughing. “I’m serious,” I said, hitting him with a nearby pillow. “Me and Clarissa were at a gym—”

  “You? At a gym? Why would you go to a gym? You don’t exercise.”

  “Well Clarissa had this coupon so she forced me to go. She said I needed to lose a few pounds.” My sister’s controlling nature made the lie easy.

  “Well, she's crazy,” he corrected me. “You look great, you always do.”

  I blushed. “Anyway, this woman fell while running on one of the treadmills and cracked her skull on the wall behind her. Everyone was screaming and there was so much blood. It reminded me of the people I’ve lost—Linda, my uncle Harry, my dad…”

  He pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. I laid my head on his shoulder, nuzzling like a kitten against the warmth of his body. For the first time in days, I wasn’t thinking about my role, just this moment.

  “It means a lot to me, that you opened up to me,” he said, running his fingers down my spine. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? To take your mind off of it?”

  I lifted my head and I looked up at him, noticing a hint of yearning in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed red and his smile was hopeful. He drew himself forwards and continued to brush through my hair with his fingers. My breath caught in my throat. My body trembled against him as his breathing mixed with mine. His eyes softened, daring me. He shifted his hand to my cheek and my skin burnt beneath it.

  Was he going to kiss me? I felt dizzy and frighten at the same time. I didn’t know if I wanted this or not, so I stuttered, “I’d like some toast.”

  His eyes filled with disappointment. “Okay,” he said, slowly letting go of me and walking to the door.

  When he had left, I traced my lips with my fingers and wondered if I’d done the right thing.

  I was thankful for Reaping 101 by the end of the week. Living with Aaron after the almost-kiss had turned our apartment into an emotional minefield. Granted it was great inspiration for my fan fiction, but we couldn’t be in the same room together without finding ourselves impossibly close again and the tension between us was pulsing. Something had definitely sparked between us, but I couldn’t help being mindful of any possible change in our relationship. I had never viewed Aaron with heart shaped glasses before… What harm would few kisses do? I didn’t have guys knocking down my door, so maybe it was worth the risk. Another part of me was screaming that this was Aaron. The five-year-old Hispanic boy that had buried my dolls in my sandbox and grown up besides me. We had always been friends; even one kiss would change that forever.

  I banished the thoughts from my mind for another time as I walked into the now familiar classroom. Ms. Winters entered a check mark on her clipboard without lifting her eyes.

  I filled the empty desk next to Becca.

  She lowered her book. “It’s a play this time,” she said, tilting the title at me.

  Becca was wearing short sleeves today and I leaned over to admire the artwork on her bare skin.

  “That’s beautiful,” I said, tracing my eyes over the curved words that trailed down her forearm. They read “Believe in Yourself.”

  “I got it the day I finished high school. You got any tattoos?” she asked, holding her arm out to me.

  “A bird on my hip. If I’m honest, I regretted it as soon as I got it.”

  “Too bad, I love mine. I just got a scythe on my back to commemorate my calling.”

  Her comment reminded me why we were all here. I rubbed my clammy hands together and whispered, “Have you had to do it yet?”

  “Nope, not yet, but I got my assignment through yesterday. Still trying to work out the right time and place.”

  “Stalling?”

  “It’s not like I’m in a rush to kill someone for the first time,” she admitted.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “I had to do my first one earlier this week.”

  She leaned closer. “How bad was it?”

  I held my stomach. “The guilt is still eating away at me. She was young. She hadn’t really lived yet.”

  Becca leaned back in her chair. “I don’t get it. How are we supposed to do this? My guy is fifty-two but that still seems unfair.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t stay and watch. Doing that makes it even worse. Seeing their lifeless body and knowing no matter how hard someone tries they aren’t coming back to life is rough.”

  Becca shuddered. “You couldn’t pay me enough to stay. I swear I’m going to touch him and bolt out of there. If I don’t see anything, I can go pretending it didn’t take. Seriously, I’ll be so quick, I’ll break records.”

  “I wish I’d thought of that,” I said, picturing Elizabeth’s bleeding skull.

  “I’m pretty nervous. I can’t believe how many rules there are to follow, but I have got to say the whole immortality thing is kind of cool.”

  “Yeah… I guess,” I said, flipping through my handbook. “Immortality really is a perk… What page was that on again?”

  “You didn’t study again? She is so going to call on you.”

  “Shh,” I said, raising a finger. “It’s alright, I just need to refresh myself.”

  Ms. Winters glanced at her watch. “Okay everyone, let’s get started. Today we’ll be covering the rules around attachments to victims and how to live with immortality without raising suspicions.”

  I tapped my pen against the page. Grim reaper immortality was simple. The more victims you killed the longer you lived. I felt guilty enough about one person, I couldn’t even imagine killing enough people to live forever.

>   “In most situations, grim reapers should never form a relationship of any sort with their client. The best approach to this is to avoid any contact with the victim until the time of soul extraction. The Dead Head app can help you plan your extraction location carefully before going in for the kill.” She laughed covering her mouth. “A little grim humor there.”

  I exchanged horrified looks with Becca.

  “That’s not to say that there haven’t been circumstances where Death has taken it upon himself to test a reaper’s loyalty by selecting a victim close to them.” Ms. Winters glanced up from her book and her eyes hovered on me. “Although this is an unsavory situation, the reaper will still be required to fulfill their role. If the reaper fails for any reason, the client will then be reassigned and the reaper will be demoted immediately.”

  Becca slid her finger across her throat.

  “It is of the utmost importance that you must never reveal you are a grim reaper to anyone. There are already mechanisms in place to prevent such actions. Don’t try it, no matter how tempting. It won’t work. It will only draw Death’s attention and you will be demoted.”

  Tiara raised her hand. “Isn’t that impossible? We're not allowed to tell anyone we're a reaper.”

  “Nearly, but if a victim were able to uncover the identity of a reaper, they would be given a reprieve and the reaper in question would have their powers stripped. There is a legend of a reaper that was discovered in the 18th century, people say upon losing their abilities they died instantly as they were over two hundred years old. Most reapers would survive until natural old age.”

  “Why would Death let someone to take one of his servants?” Tiara asked.

  “Death is a funny creature. He believes there should always be a glimmer of hope for all humans. Thus, he allows a loophole, so that they might have a long life. Either way, he makes his quotas.”

  The class laughed.

  “Getting back to the issues around interactions with victims. You must never make contact with a client’s family or friends. There will be no secret messages from the grave, no gifts to widows. These mistakes have been made before; you will not repeat them.”