The Human Gift

T/W: Suicide, depression, death.

Told in two perspectives, the italicized is the POV of Celestine, and the normal text is the POV of Annabel.

Annabel stood at the ledge of an abandoned parking lot. Below her is the sea, the waves crashing roughly against the concrete. She could feel the spray of the seafoam, the pinpricks of stray water dangling in the air around her.. The smell of the sea, fishy and salty, enveloped her. She never had a special connection with the sea but the new aroma invading her senses weren’t bad at all, and the crashing of the waves made up for it. The sun setting on the horizon made up for it as well. She loved the dark red tint of the horizon, the red tint slowly ebbing away as she gazed up and up above her but she couldn’t tell exactly. The sky changed colors so fast during sunset. So fast… it’s there for a moment and then, it’s gone. As though you only imagined it. But, it always comes back, another day. It always does.

Celestine paced back and forth behind Annabel. She looked radiant, a goddess of the sea, the sun setting on the background. She would have loved to paint the exact same moment if she had her brush with her, that is, if she didn’t know Annabel’s purpose of going here. 

Annabel raised her arms on her sides, forming a cross. The wind whipped against her, the air’s joyous reply perhaps, she liked to think. Tendrils of red hair lashed behind her. She closed her eyes. She liked the cold of this air. She hasn't felt it. It was comforting. It dampened the loneliness.

Celestine scrambled to Annabel when she raised her hands. She reached up to hold her arms to keep her from falling but her hands went through her flesh. She forgot she was now a ghost. She always forgets. She chided herself. 

The wind got stronger but it left Celestine unbothered. Her dark, luminescent hair stayed behind her. What bothered her was how comfortable Annabel looked against the wind. One misstep and Celestine will fail in her task. 

She wanted to float in front of her, her feet no longer tethering to the earth. She has not tried it but surely it wouldn’t hurt a ghost? Wouldn’t cause her to fall?

A familiar voice broke her thoughts.

“Celestine,” said a low voice of a man. A man was floating a couple of distance from them. No wings, nothing. He was not even luminescent like her but she knew him. Dressed in a black suit, hair as dark as the ravens he adored, and eyes as golden as the lives he claimed. The Grim Reaper.

When a Grim Reaper appears, it does not mean well to anyone alive. “Why are you here?” She demanded, nevertheless.

“I am here to take the gift that is owed to me,” he replied. His voice was smooth. He did not shout or raise his voice, he did not sound cruel. He sounded like a principal trying to explain something to the parents of a student. But to her ears, it sounded like thunderclap. It sounded like he had just roared.

“Didn’t your Father tell you of my condition?” Celestine said, “I am bound to her life. If she dies, I die.”

“Ah yes, a gift I did not expect. A gift that was not meant to be mine, yet. You surprised us all, me most of all. I do not take gifts until it is time to unwrap them but you took mine, for some reason.”

“I did not take her. I saved her!” Celestine remembered the day clearly. School was done. Everyone was outside their classrooms, meeting with their friends, having plans with them. For her, she wanted to go home and read. She stood at the sidewalk after waving goodbye to her friends when a girl suddenly bumped into her shoulder. A girl had ran past her and stood at the middle of the road. A bus was coming, it couldn't seem to stop. She did not think. It all happened so fast. She just saw an overwhelming color of yellow followed by black.

The next thing she knew she was somewhere dark. She heard a voice and they talked. She didn’t want to die. The voice agreed. It made a compromise instead, save Annabel from death and once her life is ensured, Celestine will be awoken from her comatosed body. Until then, she will be a ghost.

How she can help Celestine as a ghost, she doesn’t know. She can’t even touch anything, she can speak to no one. She might as well be air. At least air can stop anything from falling--stop Annabel from falling.

“And, it cost you your life,” the Grim Reaper commented.

Celestine did not regret saving Annabel’s life. The thought never once crossed her mind, and it never will.

Annabel took a deep breath. She can hear the sea inviting her to its cold clutches. She can see it beckoning underneath her eyelids. She was tired from everything. The momentary darkness in her sleep was not enough; it had become inadequate. Sometimes, unwanted dreams and nightmares invaded her sleep. It made her restless, paranoid, worsened her. Why can’t she have a peaceful dark sleep for a long time? She would like that, yes. She would never wake and worry of what to say, of what her abusive guardians would do to her again. She would never worry anymore.

She moved forward.

Celestine screamed as she saw Annabel take her foot forward, her lips forming into a small smile. A smile of relief.

“Please, stop her!” Time was different in their plane. It slowed down, moved fast forward, it was unpredictable. Anything could happen in one second of human time and in one second of entities.

“Death beckons her, child,” the Grim Reaper floated towards Annabel. He hovered close, near enough to inspect her face but not close enough to touch. 

Celestine flew forward, her luminescent body blocking the Grim Reaper from touching Annabel any further. A thought of awe lingered behind her mind as she realized she was hovering in the air too, far from land, far from the ocean. She was too preoccupied with the matter at hand to fully grasp the jarring reality. 

The Grim Reaper would not be able to pass through her, but Annabel can. If Annabel touches the Grim Reaper, she would die. Any living thing the Grim Reaper touches, grazes, brushes, dies. 

“Please, we need to live.”

“I cannot control death, I merely take the gifts of what is given to me--the gifts of Life.” She never understood that. How can you give someone the bodies of the people you’ve given life to? Giving them to death. “One of you must go.”

“We survived together, we will do it again.”

“Do you think so?” A hearty laugh escaped from the man, amused. “Perhaps, but not for long. That, I know.”

Annabel can feel the spray of the sea on the tips of her feet that now hang, slightly, from the ledge. She wants to meet the darkness. End it. But, the face of the girl that saved her appeared in her mind. She could not believe a random stranger would throw themselves in front of her. There was so much blood, she remembered. The exact moment had pasted itself beneath her eyelids. It was supposed to be her lying on the asphalt. It was supposed to be her now comatosed, fighting for her life. Not the girl that had enough kindness and compassion to selflessly throw herself to protect a stranger. 

She didn’t even know her.

Would she be disappointed if she took the second step? But why would she make a decision based on what another has done for her?

‘I saved her!’ A voice echoed in her mind. 

She wanted to cry. Perhaps she was crying now, she didn’t know. She didn’t open her eyes.

She didn’t want to be saved. She wanted to end it all. Was that too much to ask?

‘I know she wants to live!’ 

“How do you know?” the Grim Reaper asked

Did she?

“No one wants to die. No one. Death is only their means but they don’t want it. They want the pain to end. Not to die.”

How will this end?

“And, what do you propose to do?”

“She needs someone. Someone who understands, someone. Somebody!” She screamed the last word. She needed somebody. She didn’t know what to do. Celestine didn’t even know if what she was saying was true. Perhaps it was just her lying to herself to escape this--whatever this was.

“But, you can’t be that somebody, can you?”

No one would understand her. No one did, no one will. Why care about morals and values when you’re dead anyway. Let the living worry about it, not her. She was tired of worrying about her own set of problems. Exhausted.

It’s exhausting. 

She took a deep breath.

Celestine felt something shift behind her.

Annabel no longer wanted to worry about what they would think about her, what they would think, say, do. She wanted everything to end. She really did. 

“How can you end her suffering, Celestine?” The Grim Reaper floated closer, “How can you find someone to understand?”

Celestine met the golden eyes of the unnatural being. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hide and cry and forget. She was frightened.

But she didn’t show it. She stood her ground, met his eyes, “Perhaps you will not understand because you have never been human.”

She saw hurt flicker across his face. Only for a moment. She was not sure it was even what she thought it was. Perhaps she had imagined it as the Grim Reaper smiled and took a gentle bow. He offered a hand, not to her, but to Annabel, “Let us see.”

Annabel put her arms in front of her, her hands splayed in the air as though trying to catch the wind. Her heart beat faster. Faster. Faster…

Celestine transparent figure rippled as Annabel’s arm passed through her. A shriek came out of her as her fingertips almost brushed the Grim Reaper’s hand. The moment it does, Annabel will die. If Annabel dies, she will vanish. Her end would not be a simple death, she will be erased from the memories of those who knew her, those who loved her. There would be no trace of her existence on this planet. 

The smile of the Grim Reaper grew bigger.

Dusk had come, the sun had set. It was getting darker and darker. She needed Annabel to step off the ledge but no one will be able to see them.

Her thoughts were jumbled, a broken mess she could not piece together anymore. What did she really want? She knew she wanted to end it--her suffering, the pain, the loneliness, the thoughts--but how? Did she really want to get into a deep slumber of darkness and nothing? She could not stop herself from whimpering, from letting out a sob or else she will explode. The waves of the sea have become a roar. Her feet were getting wet. It was becoming impatient. She needed to make a choice.

A choice to what? How to end it? What to end?

Celestine started screaming for help. She made a ruckus, tried to pull Annabel off the ledge, tried to do anything but nothing. Nothing budged. No one heard. She knew it would be of no use but it still hurt. To be unseen, to be unheard, to be… nothing. Not worthy of anyone’s attention. To feel so weak. She wanted to be strong. Maybe if she was strong she could stop this or do something. She wanted to be stronger but how?

Her frustration turned into horror as Annabel pitched forward, “Annabel!” Celestine screamed.

Annabel felt a tug on her stomach and she found herself lying on the rough surface of an asphalt, like the day she first attempted suicide. Unlike that day, though, she found thin but solid arms around her waist. She found herself breathing. She found herself conscious. She cried. She let herself cry loudly. Her sobs turned to wails. She didn’t dare open her eyes.

“Jesus!” She heard the voice of a boy coming from above her head. “What were you doing?!” The boy untangled himself from her, “Hey, hey, are you okay? Shh, shh, you’re good, you’re good,” he pulled her up into a sitting position, “Can you open your eyes? What happened?” 

Annabel opened her eyes, everything was dark. She could see a faint outline of a boy’s arm in front of her. “I--I want…” she said in between sobs. She seemed to have ran a marathon, she was out of breath. Her chest hurt. Her throat was dry. 

“What? What is it that you want?”

She looked up, searched for the eyes of the boy. She couldn’t see them clearly, only a faint outline of his face. “I want…,” her voice was drowned in her own wail.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll get you to safety,” he tried to pull her up again, helping her to stand but she stopped him. She pulled down his arm, catching him off-guard.

“I want to be strong. I want to be stronger.”