Death is a Girl

Chapter 29 - Being Human

It was four o'clock by the time Morrigan reaped her next soul for the day. It was another car accident. The spirit of the young man stared at the scene in shock but ultimately accepted his fate without any argument.

The last was at the hospital. It seemed to be a work-related accident as he was wearing a safety vest, and Morrigan followed the paramedics as they brought him through the halls on a stretcher. His spirit seemed dormant in the barely alive body, so Noir told her to just walk up and reap him, the doctors would only notice her as another member of the staff. So, with her scythe out, she walked at a brisk pace and stabbed the blade into his chest.

“We’re losing him!” one of the doctors shouted, though as Morrigan watched his spirit rise out of his body and dissipate she was the only one who knew for sure that he was already gone.

On the way back to the truck, which she had parked on the outskirts of the city, she saw the spirit of a stray dog. It was staring up at the door of an apartment building expectantly, tail wagging.

“Noir, can you ask him what he’s doing?”

Noir walked over to the dog and meowed. The dog returned a woof.

“He says he lost his master but this is where he lives. He says he’s sure he’ll open the door at any minute and let him in.”

Morrigan frowned at the dog. He was a scruffy little terrier, his fur, though slightly matted, shimmered with a ghostly hue and there was a pair of wings coming out of his back, just like Momo had. Still, his tail wagged energetically, as if he expected his master to appear at any moment.

“He doesn’t know he’s dead, does he?” Morrigan asked softly, her heart aching at the sight.

Noir shook his head. “No, he doesn’t. It’s common for animals to be unaware of their own passing. They often stay attached to places or people they were fond of in life.”

Morrigan crouched down, reaching out a hand towards the dog. The terrier tilted his head, looking at her curiously.

“Hey there, boy. Your master can’t see you anymore, but I bet he misses you,” she said gently.

The wagging of his tail slowed, ears folding back as he let out a soft whine. Morrigan patted his head. “It’s okay though, because he’ll never stop thinking about you while you wait for him in heaven. Then, when his time comes, you’ll be there to greet him, and he’ll be so happy to see you again!”

The dog whimpered again, but Morrigan thought he understood by the small final wag of his tail. Morrigan then stood, summoned her scythe, and reaped the spirit so that he could pass on.

It was six o'clock by the time Morrigan finally made it back to the truck. She sat with her hands on the wheel, feeling rather detached. The day’s events were like an echo in her mind, but somewhere in the background she still heard Micheal Roy’s wailing spirit. Guilt tugged at her heart.

“It was a difficult day,” Noir said. “Let's head back now. You need to rest.”

Morrigan nodded and inserted the key.

***

The sun descended fully into dusk as Morrigan made her way down the country road. As she came up Death’s gravel driveway, she saw his elegant classic car parked there and she pulled in alongside it. Driving had come surprisingly naturally, though she didn’t have to deal with any real traffic or changing lanes yet.

She trudged into the cabin behind Noir to find Death sitting on the couch, game controller in hand, though he paused and looked up. “Ah, you’re back, how did things go today?”

“I don’t know,” Morrigan sighed. “I’m just going to go lay down.”

Death’s head turned as he watched her go. After stepping into her room, she kicked off her shoes, slipped the skeleton key out of her pocket and placed it on the nightstand, then collapsed on the bed. She let the soft sheets consume her, the pillow wrapping around her face. She exhaled again and rolled onto her back feeling her heart pumping unevenly in her chest.

She supposed she had been somewhat getting used to things, but the incident with Micheal Roy had her right back to feeling the same anxiety that she thought she had finally been getting away from. Her mind spun guiltily over all the souls she had to reap, and as she tried to think back on all of them, she realized she was already losing count.

Momo and Mrs. Meyers were there on the first day. The man in the hospital who she already forgot the name of the second day, and Tim, then… two more, or was it three? Was that businesswoman the second or third day? Yesterday and today there were several souls that felt like complete routine and…

“Fuck…” she gasped quietly.

She remembered some of their last moments, the old woman in the parking lot, the man committing suicide, then she was back to thinking about Tim and how she had left him next to a smear of his own gore. Then the demon, the boys who had killed her, seeing Emma and the others at the mall. So much of it had passed by her in a strange daze; she was there in the moment yet already felt herself filing them away. Perhaps it was a matter of not processing things fully?

Well, the trauma processing center of her brain was in full gear now as her mind was racing back and forth between all of these events over and over again. Her head became so noisy with voices, flashes of images and her own curses directed at herself. She put her hands over her ears as if that would do any good to silence them.

“FUCK!” she gasped somewhat loud, though conscious not to be heard from outside her room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Laying down felt like it was going to drive her crazy, so she sat up. The fact she hadn’t eaten since this morning dawned on her, but she was so anxious that the idea of food didn’t appeal to her at all.

Why are you freaking out? She asked herself. You were getting used to things. Why now?

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of it. She just wanted it to all stop. She wanted the chatter in her head to leave her alone. She wanted to stop being so damn aware of her own heartbeat!

She stood abruptly. The room felt constricting, the walls seeming to close in on her with each passing second. She needed air, space to breathe. She reached for the door and stepped out into the living room. Death was still there, his gaze shifting from the television screen to Morrigan. “Morrigan, is everything okay?”

She ignored him and without a word, made her way to the front door, flinging it open and stepping out into the cool night. The darkness enveloped her, but it was a welcome embrace compared to the stifling walls indoors. She took deep breaths, the fresh air filling her lungs and providing a small measure of relief.

The conversation with her mom entered her head. Those last words they might ever share replaying. They never got along, but hadn’t her mom been making some kind of an attempt to connect with her? Or at least, she tried to do something nice for her, and Morrigan just walked out the door and out of her life.

So what? They never got along anyway, and her mom always fell way short of Mother of the Year. Morrigan didn’t have much in the way of warm memories. No dinners or breakfasts cooked with care. Birthdays that were forgotten, or at least, not acknowledged. Morrigan never told her about school or any of her interests, and now that she thought about it, she didn’t know much about her mom either.

Still, that was just one more voice among the many others spinning through her head. She looked towards the trees, the darkness within them that didn’t even have a bit of moonlight to cast off the complete black. Then she had the idea to run into the woods, as if she could run away from whatever was on her mind.

Something about the thought soothed her, like aloe on a sunburn. It did not exactly take the pain away, but it at least replaced it with a more bearable tingle on sticky skin. That was at least something, right? Just running away?

She heard the front door of the cabin creek open. Death’s presence came up behind her, and then he just stood there.

“Noir told me you’ve had a difficult day,” he eventually said.

“I’m trying,” Morrigan said, her voice detached. “I’m really trying, and I thought I was getting used to it.”

“Reaping, on its own, is a heavy burden,” Death said. “Yet, I’m sure there is much else that is plaguing your mind.”

She turned slightly to face Death, the moonlight cast his features in a soft glow. The hollows of his eyes, under the hood, were every bit as dark as the moonless forest.

“Yeah, it’s everything. With reaping, I feel like I’m not doing it right. When I think of my old life, I want to go back and change everything. I wish I could just wake up tomorrow morning and realize the week has been nothing but a dream.”

“Transition is never easy, especially one as drastic as yours. It’s natural to feel lost, to mourn your old life and the relationships you had.”

“Mourn my own life?”

“Yes, I do believe humans often find themselves in that situation, even when they are still alive. That is why heartbreak is so hard: the end of a relationship or the death of a loved one. Or perhaps, being displaced due to work, or a natural disaster. We all fall into our routines. There is safety there—a sureness, familiarity. When your life takes a big change, those routines are thrown out the window. You no longer know what to expect. It can feel threatening and overwhelming. I do believe to mourn in these moments of one’s life is completely natural.”

Am I mourning? She wondered.

“That makes sense… but doesn’t exactly help.”

“If you’re looking for a quick cure, I’m afraid I don't have one.”

“I can’t take it. I just want this anxiety to go away. Even if I get distracted enough to stop thinking so much, it’s like it’s looming around the corner.” She sighed, gripping a hand near her heart. “Do you feel this kind of stuff? You don’t have a heart anymore, but can you still feel it beating?”

“I can not…” Death said. “Those are physical reactions to stress. But I’ll say, the lack of those sensations make my anxieties so much harder to manage. It may sound counterproductive, but it’s a release. They provide a tangible way for the body to process the mind’s distress. When there is nothing but the mind to contend with… That, Morrigan, is truly a curse.”

Morrigan stared at him, a faint glow of red appeared in his dark sockets. She blinked, remembering the couple of times she’s seen that before. He turned away, as if not wanting her to see.

“So… you still get scared, feel guilty and stuff like that?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“But… how do you deal with it?”

“Distraction is often a useful tool, I’d say. Though, I’ve also had countless years to come to terms with not only what I am but the nature of the world. It can be beautiful, but also so horribly tragic.”

She took a moment to absorb his words. “Distraction, huh? Guess that explains the video games.”

Death let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, among other things. Games, books, observing life... there are many ways to find a moment of peace. But they are just temporary measures. The real strength comes from accepting and understanding your emotions, not running from them.”

Morrigan nodded slowly, her mind trying to wrap around the concept. “Accepting and understanding,” she repeated. “Easier said than done.”

“Indeed,” Death agreed. “But not impossible.”

“Thanks.”

Death looked back to her, the red in his eyes now gone.

“I mean… what you’ve said helps. I think, if I only had Noir to talk to I’d probably go crazy.”

“Ah yes, well… Noir is quite far from being human.”

“I mean, he can be sympathetic at times. But also… I don’t know, it’s different.”

“No, no, you are correct. He has learned much, but he has a long way to go. In a way, I think you can be his teacher as much as you can learn from him.”

Morrigan smiled at that. “So he’s helping to teach me to be a reaper, and I’m helping him what? Learn to be human?”

“I would like to think so. Now, come, why don’t we head back inside?”

Once inside, Morrigan decided to force some food into her stomach. She took one of the snackbars out of the cabinet and ate it as she walked back into the livingroom to find Death back in front of the TV with a controller in his hand. She leaned against the doorframe, munching on her snack bar as she watched him. Despite his years, he still had insecurities, and even he needed distractions to let go and process.

She finished the snack bar and came over to the couch. “Mind if I jump in?”

“Of course not,” he said, “Just let me finish this level.”

She spent the rest of the night playing games with him; no conversation, just enjoying wonderfully distracting mind-numbing entertainment. It was late in the night when she finally decided to go to bed and said goodnight.

She didn’t sleep well, her anxieties still had her tossing and turning. But, she did sleep. So that was worth something, at least.