Death is a Girl

Chapter 10: The Weight of Shadows

Morrigan barely remembered stumbling out of the elevator. Someone asked if she was okay. She ignored whatever concerned onlookers took notice of her. She felt detached from her body, watching in first person as this other person moved mechanically through the hospital. Her breathing was shallow, quick, each inhale and exhale seeming to fight to find space in her tightened chest.

The floor swayed beneath her and the hallway lights blurred together into a ribbon of white.

Her hands were clammy, and she could feel a cold sweat breaking out on the back of her neck, drenching her hoodie. Each heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears.

The echo of the child’s age—nine years old—replayed over and over in her mind. Even that old man, fighting for life while tied to a machine. She felt horrible putting it to an end but maybe she could have dealt with that.

But how could she take the life of a child!?

She managed to make it outside, and through the watery haze of her vision, she found herself kneeling on a lawn, elbow on the brick retaining wall of a raised garden. She was dry heaving, painful contortions seizing her body.

She realized she hadn’t eaten in at least a full day. All the changes of this new life caused her to not so much as consider whether she was hungry or needed food. If she had, she knew she would be vomiting right now.

I can’t do this!

I CAN’T!

She felt a gentle pressure on her thigh. A rhythmic, soothing movement. Noir, for all his callousness and disinterest, was right there beside her, running his soft, furred body up against her in a gesture she recognized as a cat’s way of comforting.

“Deep breaths, Morrigan.” It seemed that, for the moment, the demands and tasks were put on hold. “I know it is not easy.”

Morrigan choked back a sob, her throat burning. “A child, Noir? How am I supposed to do that?”

He paused, and the silence was punctuated only by the distant hum of hospital activity, murmured voices, an ambulance siren somewhere far away but getting closer.

“What you should understand is that this is not a cruelty. Whether you are there or not, the child’s time is set. You’re not causing the end, but you are ensuring he isn’t left alone when it happens.”

“I get that,” Morrigan whispered, swallowing. Her throat was burning from unexpelled stomach acid.

Noir moved closer, his deep yellow eyes staring into hers. “It’s a heavy burden. One I cannot truly understand as I am not human. But it is not uncommon for new reapers to react the way you are now.”

Morrigan repositioned her back against the retaining wall, sitting with her forearms between her thighs. She at least no longer felt like she was going to be sick, though the taste of acid lingered at the back of her pallet.

“I can’t do this.” She spoke absently, pulling at the grass beneath her. “It isn’t a one-time, or occasional thing. I’m going to have to do this every day, aren't I?”

“You are a reaper now. You signed the contract and you have a role to play.”

“What if I change my mind? What if I don’t want this?”

Noir’s eyes lowered. “If you breach your contract, and refuse the role of a reaper… then I’m afraid you will have to be sent to limbo.”

“Limbo… what’s that like?”

“Limbo is neither life nor death. Nothing that you are will remain, your existence will simply cease. All that will be left of you are memories here on earth, and when those who knew you die, they will forget you in the afterlife. This is the fate of all reapers when they give up on their mission.”

Morrigan gaze remained between her legs, twisting a single blade of grass between her thumb and pointer finger as she thought about it.

What would be worse?

Non-existence would mean this horrible feeling in her chest would go away. Her lifetime of hiding while standing out in plain sight would be over. None of her pain or sorrow would matter any more.

In a low voice, Morrigan asked, “Would that be so bad?”

“Limbo?”

She nodded her head.

Noir was silent for a while. “Some would think not, but in my opinion, it’s a rare and precious gift that my master has given you. He believes you can thrive as a reaper. I’ve known him through the entirety of my existence, and he is rarely wrong about such things.”

She whispered, her breath barely pushing the words out. “It feels wrong.”

“You’ve only done two reapings, and the first was a cat. Perhaps you should give it more time. More of a chance to adjust to this role.”

“What if I never adjust? What then?”

“You will always have the choice to give up,” Noir answered. “However, that choice is permanent, and you quite literally have an eternity to decide. I would suggest you don’t make any decisions too rashly.”

Morrigan’s eyes came up, looking out at the roadway across the lawn. The ambulance far in the distance had grown louder and she now watched it as it hurridly came to the emergency room entrance.

Noir looked at her, then followed her line of sight. “That one will survive,” he said. “At least, they havn’t appeared on any lists yet.” He let Morrigan’s silence hang for a moment before speaking again. “Reaping is not about you, or me. It’s about the balance of the universe. The cycle of life and death. To reap is to serve a purpose greater than yourself.”

Morrigan reached to her side, Noir’s head turned curiously as he watched. She picked up the crumpled list.

Tim Sawyer, age nine, location: 3765 5th avenue west, struck by truck. 12:35pm.

“If it makes it easier,” Noir said. “Remember that you are not the one causing this. This was handed down by fate.”

“5th avenue,” she said. “That’s downtown.” She pushed herself back up to her feet and brushed off the back of her pants. “We’ll have to get moving if we are going to make it there on time.”

Noir looked up at her, eyes shimmering with something that might have been respect. “The decision to keep going shows strength, Morrigan.”

She offered a thin smile, though her eyes betrayed her turmoil. “Just doing my job, right?”

With a nimble leap, Noir jumped off the wall and took his place walking beside her feet. “It will get easier, with time. Or at least, more familiar. For now, let’s focus on Tim. He deserves our full attention.”