Death is a Girl

Chapter 37: Bad Dinner Conversation

“M-Morrigan… w-what is…” Emma took another step back.

“I know… I’m sorry, I wish I had the power to hide it.” She looked away, knowing her glowing red eyes were not helping things.

“That’s…” Emma squinted, leaning forward as if trying to get a better idea. “That’s not a costume, is it? That’s not makeup? But… it has to be, right?”

“No…” Morrigan turned fully away, hiding under her hood again. “I’m sorry, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No, hang on a second,” Emma said, stepping forward. She leaned down and to the side as if to try to see over Morrigan’s shoulder and under her hood. “What happened? Are your eyes just like that?” Her voice was shaking slightly behind the calm tone she was trying to force herself to keep.

Morrigan lifted a hand and pointed a thin white finger toward the angel statue. “See that statue? I died there ten days ago. I know that sounds crazy but its true.” She exhaled. “When the grim reaper… he just goes by Death, came to take my soul… he decided to make me his apprentice instead.”

Emma was silent, clearly unsure how to respond.

Morrigan looked over her shoulder to see her friend standing there with a SubDay bag hanging loose from her fingers. “I know it sounds crazy or like I’m just trying to prank you, but its true.”

Emma stepped forward, the look on her face wasn’t quite fear, more like she was still trying to decide how she felt. Maybe she would settle on fear eventually. She lifted her hand with a single finger out, aimed towards Morrigan’s face. Morrigan sunk away, but let Emma poke her cheek.

“Damn, you’re cold,” Emma said as her other hand came up and she pulled Morrigan’s hood down and placed her palm fully on Morrigan’s cheek. They looked each other in the eyes as Emma took her in and said, “As crazy as it all is, and I’m not entirely sure if I’m hallucinating or what, but… I believe you.”

After a moment of looking into each other’s eyes, Morrigan chuckled softly as she stepped back. “Do you really believe me?”

“Yeah, I mean… it feels so crazy that if it were a prank, that’d be even crazier… Like, how would you even come up with that?” Morrigan noticed Emma’s hand was shaking, which Emma must have realized as well as she stuffed it into her pocket and looked away. “You said… you’re the grim reaper’s apprentice. What does that mean exactly?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got a really screwed up summer job. I harvest souls of people, and sometimes animals, who have died.”

“Should you be telling me this?” Emma asked.

“Honestly, probably not…” Morrigan said with a sigh. “Sorry about that.”

“No it’s alright I guess… I mean, I can’t image what its been like for you.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You died… what… I mean…” It seemed she was having trouble fully forming her questions.

“I don’t want to go into detail right now.” Morrigan let her eyes drift back over the sea of tombstones. “But, I tried to stop some bullies from tormenting this kid and ended up getting stabbed.”

“Okay…” she paused, maybe deciding on whether to let that part go or not. She did end up switching topics. “And… you stole that truck?”

Morrigan nodded. “It belongs to Death.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Death owns a truck?”

Morrigan snorted. “You don’t know the half of it. He usually drives this nice classic car. Oh, and he’s a gamer nerd.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Now I think you really are messing with me.”

“Wish I was.” Morrigan didn’t think it would be possible, but she was finding it easy to smile again.

Emma lifted the bag, her tone becoming somewhat chipper, perhaps taking a cue from Morrigan’s smile. “So, hungry? I got a roast beef and a turkey. I didn’t know what you liked, but I’m fine with either.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”

“I don’t care; you look like you haven’t been eating right. Here, take the roast beef.” She reached into the bag and pulled it out, holding it out to her. “After all, you did ask me to pick you up some food.”

Morrigan smiled as she grabbed the sandwich, then walked over to a headstone and sat on top of it. Emma followed her lead and planted herself on another headstone next to it. They unwrapped their sandwiches and started eating.

“So, if I may ask… how did you die?”

Morrigan paused halfway to taking a bite, then lowered the sandwich. She stared ahead blankly, thinking over where to begin.

“Sorry, bad dinner conversations!” Emma said quickly. “Forget it, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Na, it’s alright.” She stared at the angel statue, trying to think of a better way to say it. “I was on my way to Jamie’s party on the last day of school. I was cutting through the graveyard when I heard someone shouting…”

She told her about trailing the group of three boys, how they were going to cut the smaller boy, and mentioned the book they were reading from. She then told of how she tried to put a stop to it, and her voice lowered as she told about how Pony-boy chased her and eventually assaulted her. He had punched her in the stomach, then put her over his shoulder as he carried her back to the statue where he threw her on the ground.

Emma covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god… Morrigan!”

Morrigan took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she continued her story. The memory was vivid, haunting her like a persistent shadow. She looked down at her hands, now ghostly pale and different.

“I tried to fight back… it was hard to move at first. He hit me so hard in my stomach I couldn’t breath. As I was trying to crawl away, I gripped a rock, and when he grabbed me to throw me back, I hit him in the face with it.”

Emma's eyes widened, covering her mouth.

“After that, there was a struggle. I fell into the boy with the emo hair and he stabbed me… I don’t think that part was entirely on purpose. He seemed shocked, but, I don’t know… up to that moment I definetly felt like I was fighting for my life. Maybe after he did it, you know, like, it became too real for him because he and the other boy started panicking. The small boy they were bullying ran away.” She sighed and pointed to the crypt. “After I died, they locked me in that crypt over there. I spent the night lying on that cold stone floor, unable to move or breathe. I think I knew I was dead… I just had this like, awareness of where I was and what happened. I was afraid I’d be trapped in there forever and nobody would ever know what happened to me.”

Emma reached over and put a hand on Morrigan’s back, looking her in the face as she recounted her story. Morrigan wasn’t able to return the eye contact.

“Anyway,” Morrigan continued. “That’s when I met Death. He took me back to his cabin, gave me a contract to sign, and now I’m a reaper.”

“Damn,” Emma said. “Morrigan, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.”

Morrigan pointed to her own chest, to the soft space where the two sides of her ribcage curved away from each other. “The knife went in right here, and kind of upward, I think.”

“Can I see?” Emma asked carefully.

Morrigan shrugged. She balled up her hoodie and undershirt and lifted it just under her collarbone and just high enough for the stab wound to be visible. “Death closed the wound for me, and used some kind of magic to heal the damage to my heart. That’s why my body isn’t deteriorating.”

“Wait, if it did, would you still be able to move?”

Morrigan lowered her shirt again, a bit embarrassed by Emma looking her over. She knew she was probably taking note of how thin she was. She knew that her stomach was concaved in a bit and her ribs were a bit too visible benethe her skin. It’s because she had hardly been eating at all since this happened to her.

“Yeah, apparently. I could lose all my flesh and still move around as a skeleton.”

Emma reached up to Morrigan’s face again, softly touching underneath her jaw and guiding her head to move slightly to the side. Morrigan narrowed her eyes slightly and Emma seemed to examine her.

“You are extremely thin. Like, have you been eating at all?”

“Barely,” Morrigan admitted with a resigned sigh.

“Well I don’t know what to make of all this grim reaper stuff,” Emma said. “But that’s one thing I can help you with. From now on I want you to start eating three times a day, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

“No, you won’t just try!” Emma said more assertively.

Morrigan looked at Emma, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. It was odd to be lectured on eating habits when her entire existence had changed so dramatically.

“Sorry,” Morrigan said softly. “I’ve just been... overwhelmed with everything. Eating was the last thing on my mind.”

Emma nodded, her expression softening. “I get that, but you need to take care of yourself. Even if you’re a reaper or whatever, you’re still here. Still... sort of human.”

Morrigan chuckled weakly. “Sort of human, yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

The conversation paused as they both looked around the graveyard, silence filling the air.

“So what's next for you?” Emma asked.

“Don’t know.” Maybe reaper jail, maybe limbo, she thought but didn't say.

“What about your parents?”

“The last time I saw my mom was a few days after I died… My dad, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.” She exhaled. “Heroin overdose, apparently.”

Emma turned her head. The version of Morrigan’s family history she knew was quite different from that. Emma would think that her father provided her with the credit card she uses, that they regularly go on family vacations, and that both parents were in professional careers.

“Hmmm… well…” Emma began, uncertainly. “Can I be honest about something?”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, wondering if Emma was piecing together how much of a liar she was and would hate her for it.

“I always knew… um…” Emma sighed. “I knew you weren’t exactly what you claimed to be at school. Like, I knew you were making up a lot of stuff about your parents, and being a rich girl and all that.”

Morrigan blinked, and then let a short burst of laughter escape her. “Seriously?”

Emma shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t know any specifics. I could just tell you were… I dunno, kind of faking it. You know? But it never bothered me. I thought that if you were doing that its because its what you felt like you had to do.” Emma swung her legs and pushed off the tombstone. “Honestly, I know what that's like. That’s probably why I noticed so easily.”

“Know what that was like?” Morrigan repeated. “What do you mean?”

Emma shrugged a shoulder. “I… wasn’t expecting to talk about it here. So give me some time…” She let out a breath. “But, something else crossed my mind. Can you describe that smaller boy? You said he said something about the book belonging to his grandfather?”

“Right… well, he was small, really small for a boy. He had arms like pencils and a kind of dorky haircut. Um, his T-shirt had some kind of logo on it.”

Emma nodded, thinking, “There’s an occult shop I’ve been to a few times. It's run by an old man and his granddaughter. I once saw a boy who matches that description working there—just sweeping up the floors and stuff.” She turned to face Morrigan and grinned. “I could easily be wrong, but do you want to check it out?”

Morrigan turned her head, thinking Emma seemed different. Maybe it was something about the way she accepted the whole reaper thing so easily, but really it was the look on her face now. Morrigan couldn’t quite place what she was thinking but something felt off to her. “Emma, I don’t know how to say this…”

Emma gave her a knowing smile. “Guess we both have a few of our mysteries. Let’s go unravel a few of yours first.”