Daughter of Death

WARNING: This story contains discussions of death, suicide, afterlife, and substance abuse. Please read at your own pace and discretion. With that being said, enjoy.

Time is the most precious resource the human race has ever possessed, and the horrific realization that it can never be harnessed is the cornerstone for all of the sins that purvey this world every single day. Drugs, violence, loose sex with multiple partners, adultery, abuse, you name it. Every branch from the tree of pain is deeply rooted into the same singular seed, sprouting from the ground of uncertainty. The seed that says…

“I don’t have time.”

As he hovered my hand over the frail husk lying before him, he could feel the pain and anguish endured by this withered woman. Years of alcoholism, addictive eating habits, and chain smoking cigarettes had ravaged her body long before the cancer cells had ever metastasized. And at fifty-eight years old, the shell that encased her soul had fought the last battle. Her breathing grew more labored, the pace in between the inhales growing longer with each passing second. All culminating to a final gasp, a recognition in her eyes, seeing what destiny laid before her. At this moment, every person will either go in one of two directions. Bargaining or acceptance. Grief for others is an arduous process of ups and downs, but grief for yourself is instant, and your mind knows whether it is time to go, or time to fight. For her, it was time to go. He pulled the soul from her, seeing the vitals on her screen quietly fade. With a whimper, and then a silence. She was gone. He stood from his crouched position, massaging his spine with a firm hand. The job of Death was not glorious or flashy, but necessary all the same.

The Intensive Care Units are a heavy burden for any person with a rational mind and beating heart, sometimes even for those without one. Staring blankly through the halls that succeeded him, he knew that his job was far from finished. There was a twenty-three year old man experiencing brain death from a motorcycle crash in room thirty-six. A ninety-seven year old with an advanced directive and a failing heart in room forty-eight, and a thirty year old man with a self-inflicted gunshot wound in room fifty. The sounds of the hallway were deafening to anyone with ears to damage, but the Courier of Demise had learned to tune out the screams long ago. The panicked nurses rushing to provide chest compressions and tracheostomies were no more than the buzzing of a fly to him. As he pushed through the halls, fading through the bodies before him, a voice cut through the silence.

“Excuse me?” She said, the youthful bounce of her vocal chords emanating strongly from her small frame. He twisted in her direction, coming to find a little girl, no more than six years old standing in the center of the hall. She was confused, her lip quivering as she tried to hide the anxiety building in her chest. Death was perplexed, not because he could hear her, but because she could see him. They both stood around twenty feet from one another but the look of comprehension in her eyes was more than enough for him to know. This girl was no longer among the living. With a hesitation otherwise unknown to him, he stepped forward, keeping his step lighter than usual so as not to startle her. As his feet met hers, he steadied himself on his Scythe, kneeling to match her stature. In as soft of a voice as he could, he spoke.

“Hello there. Are you doing okay?” His dim voice hoping to ease the worry in her eyes. She began to turn left and right, her gaze hoping to meet some form of familiarity

“I can’t find my Daddy, he was taking me to the doctor’s cause I got sick. Ian Jackson from school, he had a cold and he hasn’t been to school since last friday, and I started to get a cough three days ago, and Daddy said I should stay home but I didn’t think I had what Ian Jackson had cause Ian Jackson eats dirt and I don’t eat dirt cause that’s gross. But- but then I remembered that at lunch, he kept rubbing his nose and touching stuff, and then I thought that I touched something he touched, cause Ms. Sue told us that germs can spread on surfaces, and so he took me and now I- I-” The little girl choked on the words, tears welling up in her eyes. Death could feel the terror in her words and placed a soft hand on her shoulder. She looked up to him, frantically wiping away the downpour as it continued. He lifted his hand to her face, swiping a hair away from her face before extending the hand towards her.

“You sound frightened. Let’s see if we can find your father.” She did a few more quick swipes at her face before taking his hand, only being able to gain hold of a few fingers, together they roamed the halls as she rambled on about Ian Jackson and what Ms. Sue was teaching them last week and how she was really mad she didn’t get to go to school this wednesday because they were going to play Jump the Creek and it was her favorite game in Gym class. It didn’t take long before Death could make out a commotion coming from the waiting room, the buzzing of that fly becoming more like a swarm. They passed through the doors to find a crowd of people around a man in the corner. There were nurses, ER Techs, and many onlookers with no business inserting themselves. As they approached the gathering, Death could see that the commotion was none other than the little girl. She laid in a puddle on the floor, a thick foam pushing itself through her mouth. Medical staff hurriedly brought over a defibrillator, insisting that everyone needed to stand back or they would call Hospital security. As more listened and the crowd began to dissipate, the little girl could see what was happening.

Death crouched down to her level once more, maintaining a few feet of distance from the situation unfolding before them. The girl watched her father, bawling as he held her, begging them to do something, anything. Just to please save his daughter. Death had never felt this before but he was… disturbed. A soft whisper escaped his cracked lips.

“I did not ordain this.”

The little girl slowly moved toward the scene, waving as she came closer.

“Daddy? Daddy don’t cry. It’s me. I’m okay, I’m right here. Daddy please don’t cry. You make me sad when you cry.” She tried all she could to get his attention, but nothing worked. Eventually the Nurses got her off of her father’s lap and onto the flat surface so they could work to bring her back, but only Death knew that it was far too late. The anguish of what he felt was unfamiliar. Like a person attempting to rationalize the loss of a loved one, he did not know how

to put this into words. The little girl reached in, trying to give her father a hug, but when she couldn’t feel him, that was when reality began to set in.

“Daddy? Why can’t I hug you? What’s happening, Daddy? Please. Please talk to me!” She fell into a puddle on the floor, the emotions overwhelming her once more. Death moved to kneel beside her, leaving his Scythe where he previously stood. She swiped with the deepest fury she could, but nothing could stop the tears. All until she finally looked at herself. The tears slowly dried and what was a face of fear and despair was replaced with one of confusion and horror. Death reached for her hand, letting it rest inside his as she came to grip with the new world she had just been thrust into. After a few moments, the Nurses and Doctors all stopped their efforts before apologizing to the father. The bellows of suffering that came from him were almost enough to make Death himself cry.

“I am so sorry child. This is far more than someone your age should endure.” He said, his thumb stroking the top of her hand, a mild form of comfort which was all he could provide. Without looking up from the situation before her, the little girl spoke.

“He has trouble waking up to his alarms. How is he going to get up for work if I don’t help him?” She was searching for answers, even in the most minor of inconveniences. Death thought this was a unique sentiment for the events that laid before her, but another example of how young and innocent the heart in his hand was.

“I’m afraid that’s something that he’ll have to learn to figure out.”

“He won’t stop crying. I don’t want him to cry.”

“I know, but he is crying because he loves you. More deeply than anyone he’ll ever know.”

“But isn’t love supposed to feel good? Why is he so sad?”

“With the joys and happiness that love brings, it can also bring pain. Deep and sorrowful pain if you love hard enough.”

“Well I don’t want him to be in pain.”

“I know, but it is impossible for humans to live without experiencing pain. Have you ever fallen and scraped your knee? I’m sure it must have hurt rather a lot. But not all pain has to be of the physical. Sometimes you choose to be in pain, even when you don’t know it.”

“I’ve never scraped my knee but I did hit my head when I fell off my bike last year and it hurt really bad. But I didn’t want to fall off my bike. So why choose to hurt? Hurting never feels good.”

“Sometimes we don’t know that it will hurt when we choose it, and sometimes, we know that as bad as it will hurt, the joy it will bring us will be so bountiful and irreplaceable that we would choose to hurt again and again, if it meant we could feel as happy as we once did. Your father hurts because he chose to love you more than he did to avoid that pain. Even if he did not predict that he would lose you, that he would have to endure that pain, that joy that you brought him will always be stronger than the hurt that it also brought.”

“So it’s like choosing to ride my bike. I knew it would hurt if I fell off of it, but I still did it, because I knew I’d be really happy if I didn’t fall. Right?”

Death smiles. “Precisely.”

Death steadied himself before helping the child to her feet, brushing off the shoulders of her coat before taking her hand and leading her away. As she walked beside him, she turned over her right side, waving one last time to her father.

“Bye Daddy.” She whispered.

As they made it back to the ICU, Death took a step back to prepare for the next step of the process.

“Now I’m afraid it’s time for you to go as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid that this is not your final destination, child. There is something else out there for you.”

“What kinda something else?”

“I do not know, but something better.”

“But I don’t want to go somewhere else. I won’t know anyone there and I’m gonna be all alone. Please don’t make me go!”

“I am sorry, but it’s —”

The child runned towards Death, plunging her face into his garb, squeezing him as tight as she could. Death was startled at first, but soon relented, brushing her hair with his fingers as he slowly softened his posture, the moniker of Death meant nothing in that moment. As of right this moment, he was her protector. He met her eyes once more, holding her tiny face in his hand.

“I know I have to go. I do, but can’t I just- just stay with you for a little. Please?”

He smiled at her, brushing her hair once more.

“I don’t see why not. You can stay with me as long as you’d like, child.”

“Rose! My name is Rose.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Rose.”

“And what do I call you?”

“I do not know. What would you like to call me?”

“Mmmm. Buddy! I wanna call you Buddy cause you’re my Buddy.”

“Oh, very well. Buddy it is then.”

Death rose from his position again, taking Rose’s hand once more.

“Come now, there’s a friend of mine in room thirty-six that I would like you to meet.”