Watching Death

 They say that you will never forget the first person you see pass onto another life. In my experience, I believe this is true. I remember the exact date, time, and second of my first death. I also remember the reason, life expiration, or, old age. It wasn’t even a full first day on the job when I witnessed the event. It was peaceful, like watching a leaf dance in the wind. The man was elderly, about seventy years old, lying on a bed with his family watching closely. Adult children and an elderly wife wept as the man’s eyes got heavier. He told them, “Don’t worry about me, worry about yourselves, that’s what you can do.” Even though everyone around this man was sobbing, he held onto a smile as the soul detached from his earthly being. He was, and still is, the only person I have seen slip into the afterlife with a smile.

This image of my first passing plagues me as I watch the girl in front of me fight for her life. That first soul I greeted died in euphoria, but, looking at this girl shows a different side to the story.

I am seated on a very old sofa. It is yellow in color, but I’m not sure if that is due to the object’s age or if it was manufactured with a hue of urine. The trailer in which the girl lives is nothing out of the extraordinary. I have been in nicer places, but it doesn’t matter where you die, you will always end up crossing over to the same place. The walls of the trailer are white, or were I should say, now they appear to be an off white that only cigarette smoke can produce.

I am watching as the girl shreds the brown shag carpet that lines the living space, her brown hair mixing with the filth of the rug. Blood dripping down her face contrasts against the chalky complexion she inherited. She is yelling for help, but little does she know that no one is going to save her.

The man she brought home from her usual outing at the bar is hovering over her. He has a gun in his hand, the weapon he has already used to bash her skull. His steel toe boots are in the small of the girl’s back. He is highly amused with the distress he has forced upon her, laughing like a manic.

Dark curls cling to his tanned skin. I watch as he takes his body and shifts all his weight onto the foot holding her against the floor. He is not a slender man, and it took nothing for him to produce the crack of her bones that echoed off the stained walls.

The girl’s light brown eyes became big and stared right into mine. The pain shot through her expression before she let out an excruciating scream. The body went limp, surrendering to the pain caused by the abuser. The curly-haired man was now changing his position to stand at her face. He knelt down and grasped her chin, tilting her head up to peer into his eyes. She let out a sound of pain and tears began to stream down her smooth cheeks.

“This is what you get for fucking every guy in the town and then denying me,” the man said calmly. He stood up and let her head drop to the floor. He took two steps towards me and turned around to face the victim. The gun was aimed at her head, a clean shot for sure.

“P-pl-please,” she begged but it seemed that he had already made up his mind. The gun made a click, and there were only a few more seconds of sobbing until a bang echoed through the trailer.

As soon as the trigger was pulled he gathered his jacket from the other end of the sofa and darted out the screen door. The only sound left to be heard was the slam of the door and softening footsteps of the killer as he got away.

I looked at the lifeless body that was now being surrounded by blood. I scooted to the edge of my seat to get a closer look, Ah, I thought, here she comes. As I looked at the body’s outline a faint white light began to illuminate the figure. Slowly it became brighter, showing that the soul was pulling away. In another minute her soul had fully detached and she turned to look at the form she was leaving behind.

I gave her five minutes, which she used to look at the mundane form in silence. Slowly I approached her, reaching my hand out to touch her shoulder. Before I could offer her comfort she spoke.

“I know you were there watching the whole time.”

I quickly put my hand down. She turned and looked me in the eyes again; those light brown eyes, which were so dull in the human world, now gave an angelic light.

I looked at her curiously, “You saw me?”

“Yes,” she said, “I thought I was hallucinating, or just seeing things. I knew I was in danger the moment I told that man no.” She tilted her head to the side and put a finger under her chin. “Why didn’t you save me?”

I let out a chuckle. I have been asked that many times and always found it to be a silly question.

“You cannot save anyone or yourself from fate,” I said.

She nodded in response and broke our gaze to look at the body. I reached out my hand, the skeletal frame reaching to comfort the girl once again. Now she was studying my hand.

“The Grimm Reaper really is all bones, isn’t he?”

She took my hand and I gently lead her to the afterlife, knowing that she did not pass into this realm with a smile.

Cover photo credit:

http://thewindowofthesummerhouse.tumblr.com/image/159810455108