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Reaper

Disclaimer & Trigger Warning:

This entry deals with thoughts of suicide.

Whether you’re facing mental health struggles, emotional distress, alcohol or drug concerns, or just need someone to talk to, the caring counselors at the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline are there to help you.

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You are loved.

You are wanted.

You are not alone.

Stumbling past the pews towards the dais, barefoot, wearing only my jeans, I took another long pull of the bottle of whiskey while I glared at the figure hanging from the wall, shaking my head.

“They treated you like shit. Used you and you still forgave them. Didn’t you?”

Bared for all to see, save the loincloth around his waist. His enemies nailed his hands and feet to the cross and put a crown of thorns on his head.

They laughed at him.

Ridiculed him.

When they had enough, they stabbed him with a spear and still the fucker forgave them.

He forgave everyone he ever met.

He preached about forgiveness and atonement.

That salvation was a kind gesture.

Not for someone like me.

I was damned to live an eternity in hell.

“Sinners don’t deserve forgiveness, asshole!” I shouted, throwing my bottle of whiskey as I stumbled forward, falling to my knees. Tears ran down my face, and I hung my head.

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

I stupidly thought the second I killed Baranov that everything would be alright and I could go to her and make amends. I knew Montana’s brother, Dakota fucking Stone, had moved her from California to Oklahoma. That fucker wasn’t stupid. He knew if anything happened to my woman, he was a dead man. No amount of protection or training would save him from the Reaper if anything happened to my wife. Blood or not, his life depended on whether my wife lived or died.

Montana knew it.

Maxim knew it, and I sure as fuck knew Dakota fucking Stone knew it.

The second we left the warehouse in New York City, I jumped on a bike and rode hell-for-leather to get to my wife. She needed to know the threat to her was gone. She was free and could go home. She could finally live her life like she wanted.

I should have known that Montana would keep her close. She was his bargaining chip. As long as he had her in his clutches, he would use her to save his own life. Fucker thought he was smart. Too bad for him, he sealed his fate.

My wife was no man’s bargaining chip.

It took me two days of riding damn near day and night, but when I finally laid eyes on her, I knew I was too late. Not only was she in the arms of that Casanova Rambo fucker again, but this time, I watched when he kissed what belonged to me, and that’s when I realized, somehow, in my blood fueled rage to kill every fucker that hurt her, I’d lost her.

There was no one to blame but myself.

I did this. It was my fault.

Safe now, she could live her life free of her nightmares and move on. As much as I hated the thought of her with someone else, I knew there was nothing I could say to make it right. She would never trust me again. I broke that between us. Not Montana and not Maxim. Me. My actions and lies severed the unbreakable tie that bound us together, and I would have to learn to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life.

Too bad I didn’t plan on living much longer.

There was no Reaper without his Remi. I vowed long ago to never live a soulless life again. I did that once before. I had seen the light, lived in its grace for a few magical years. Nothing would ever compare.

I knew what I was about to do. I accepted this fate long ago. I already survived one hell, and I refused to live in another of my own making.

She was my compass. My lifeline in a bloody world of my own making. She was my always. The one person I could turn to when the darkness surrounded me. Now I was alone, unable to breathe as the sins of my past circled, waiting to claim my dark soul.

We burned bright for a short time.

Our flame was a beacon of hope until it burned too brightly.

I should have known.

Like ashes after a fire, it all came down.

“Forgive me,” I whispered as tears ran down my face, and I reached over my shoulder and removed one of my blades, holding it in my hands while I kneeled before the dais.

“God forgives you, my son.”

Without thinking, I swung my blade as I watched a priest step out of the darkness that surrounded me.

Lowering my blade, I slumped forward, shaking my head.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

I was tired. So fucking tired.

I just wanted to close my eyes and cease to exist. My whole life I’d fought one demon after another.

I was tired of fighting.

So fucking tired of it all.

I didn’t know how long I kneeled there.

Time no longer mattered as I stared at my blade laying on the cold tiled floor in front of me.

All I had to do was pick it up and everything would be over.

All this pain, this hurt, the lies, the deceptions would end.

“Do you believe in redemption, Priest?”

“I believe God only redeems those he deems worthy,” the Priest stated, sitting in a pew as he stared at the dais.

I smirked. “Well, that explains it then.”

“What does?”

“God’s punishing me. He thinks I’m unworthy of redemption. He’s determined I spend eternity in hell.”

“God forgives those who ask for forgiveness.”

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“Everyone deserves forgiveness, even you, my son. All you have to do is ask for it.”