Page 15 of Grim

FairNeverFactors

T he sound of glass breaking shatters the silence, which, given my current state of existential dread, is less than ideal. I smirk as an idea hits me. I eye the man hovering over me with a predatory gleam.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re a reaper, right? A soul collector.”

“A bit more like a soul transporter, but yes. That’s my AfterLife Assignment.”

“Dude,” I say, watching as Kane finishes untying my legs, “get my ghost out of here.”

Kane lets out an exasperated sigh, tossing the rope aside like he’s doing me some massive favor.

“First of all,” he starts, straightening his suit jacket, “my name is Kane. I didn’t survive the height of the second plague just to have a skinny little waif call me dude.

If you’re looking for pet names, however, I am open to sir, sire, or perhaps even Kane the—”

“My legs are free now, and I am exactly three seconds from kicking you in the face,” I interrupt, voice flat.

“Second,” he continues, ignoring me entirely. “I don’t reap the lost souls. Can’t be done.”

“And here I thought, I’d finally found a good use for you.” My tone drips with disappointment.

“I’m afraid this soul already made its choice. Something compelling draws that spirit to this place. Which is why it lingers.”

“This one lingers quite loudly,” I complain as Kane moves to untie my wrists.

For the briefest moment, our hands touch. His grip tightens, and he inhales sharply, fingers flexing before he snaps back, shaking his hand like I burned him.

“Yes, well,” he says quickly, clearly unnerved, “I imagine you’d make a bit of noise if your eternal essence was tethered to a place it feels fused to, but you remain impotent to affect any change.”

“Am I going to need to keep a thesaurus on hand with you around?”

“You seem to have a robust library as it is. I apologize if my vocabulary threatens you,” he snidely retorts.

“Not threatened, just annoyed … dude .” I pause before continuing, “Can’t you just coax it along? Bribe it?”

“Not after the initial crossover window closes. I can force a soul through at that time, but my strong preference is not to. It’s messy.

It’s in a soul’s best interest to cross over, of course, as there is nothing they can actually do over here after the corporeal form fails, but ultimately, some feel tethered too tightly.

Once the choice is made, the reapers have to move on.

Caseloads being what they are, we simply cannot tarry on one spirit for too long.

So, that soul remains tied to where their mortal life ended. ”

“That’s terrible,” I whisper while rubbing the tender spots on my wrists.

“They made their choice, Mayday. Just as you will. The last mortal moment for all.”

“That’s pretty grim.” I stand, staring at him in astonishment.

“ C’est la vie, ma chère . Or I suppose, in this case, it’s a bit more, C’est la mort. ”

“Do you have any compassion? Are all the reapers like you?”

“You mean articulate, good-looking, amusing, and impeccably dressed?” He smirks as we head out of my bedroom.

“I mean overly confident know-it-alls with a superiority complex and an inflated sense of self-worth. ”

Kane stops mid-step. Turns. And slowly looks me up and down. I feel my skin prickle under his gaze.

“That was cute,” he purrs. “But are you sure you want that to be your response?”

I’m about to respond when I hear more banging in the kitchen.

“Ugh,” I growl while storming in there. “I’m not spending the final days of my life listening to this jerk breaking all my family’s things. Get it ou—” I stop as a squeak leaves me.

There is a child; he can’t be more than ten. He’s filthy and crouched on my countertop with a bowl held over his head.

I try to make words, but nothing comes out. The boy looks from me to Kane and back again. We’re all silent, no one moving for what feels like forever, before the boy slams my bowl to the floor, causing it to shatter.

I continue to stare in shock. There is a boy in my kitchen. Not just dishes flying everywhere, but an actual boy.

“Can …” His voice is small with a thick English accent. “Can you see me?”

I nod dumbly, minutely aware that Kane is now beside me.

“So, Big D was right. This certainly ups the stakes,” Kane mutters seriously.

“Who can? What now?”

“Never mind about that. Right now, we need to ensure your safety.”

“From this little”—I eye the young person standing before me—“boy,” I manage weakly. This … this can’t be happening. “No, no, no, no …” I shake my head back and forth before leaving the kitchen, storming down the hallway and out the front door.

“Mayday! Wait!” Kane calls after me, but I don’t listen.

I continue walking down the drive, passing by the gnarly old trees with Spanish moss draped from them.

“Hey!” Kane appears in front of me, blocking my path. “Where are you going?”

“There is a child in my house!” I shout. I don’t know why I am unable to control the volume of my voice .

“The soul of a child, but yes. You knew that already. So, again, where are you going?”

“No.” I laugh as I begin pacing. “No. No. There was a ghost in my house. It didn’t have an identity, a face, anything. But now I find out there is a boy in there. A boy! A ghost boy! Oh my, I can see ghosts. I can see ghosts; I have a reaper stalking me—”

“That’s a bit dramatic—”

“I’m dying in nine days, and now I see dead people!” I bend over at the waist, placing my palms on my knees to try to catch my breath.

Kane stands there, staring at me with a blank expression. “Eight days now, I’m afraid.”

“Ya know, now would be a great time to comfort someone. Rub their back, tell them it’s all going to be okay— something besides standing there like some statue.”

“I’m not rubbing you, and you are not okay. Would you rather I lie?”

“YES!” I scream while grabbing a rock off the ground and hurling it at him. It goes straight through his body and bounces off a tree behind him.

“Good throw. How was that lie?” he asks.

I want to yell at him, I want to scream and hit him, I want to run away. But I don’t. Instead, my bottom lip—in a betrayal so deep that I may cut it off later for the act—begins to wobble as my eyes start to burn and fill with tears. Before I can stop them, liquid falls from my eyes.

“Fuck,” I whimper on a sob.

Kane’s eyes grow big, and his expression shifts from smug bastard to full-blown panic. “W-what are you doing?”

“Surely, you’ve seen someone cry before,” I snap as another sob wracks through my body.

“Yes, but why are you crying?! Stop it!”

I glare at him through my watery gaze.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” I shout out, my voice shaking from the adrenaline.

“In a day, I’ve died and been brought back, only to be told I’m dying again in eight days.

I have a reaper following me around and tying me to the bed, and now I can see ghosts?

! I can fucking see ghosts, Kane! And then I can hit you with my hand, but I throw a rock, and you’re like a hologram!

None of this makes sense! And it isn’t fair!

What about what I want? Just once, I want someone to ask me about what I want to achieve in my life—”

“Mayday, what do you want to ach—”

“Shut up!” I scream out. “The man who is about to kill me doesn’t get to ask me that.”

“Hey!” he barks out while stalking over to me.

“We have been over this already. I am not killing you. Your heart is doing that. And that is terribly unfortunate. You’re young and attractive, and you seem relatively intelligent.

Why you have to die while the man across town who lives on fast food and never calls his kids gets to live into his nineties makes no sense.

But it’s just the way it is, Rue. You will find that in every life, fairness never factors. ”

I shake my head, chest heaving, voice raw.

“Fuck you,” I spit out. “Don’t give me that bullshit line.

Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?

I know life isn’t fair! But fuck you for not letting me live in ignorant bliss for the remainder of my days!

I can see the clock now, every second ticking by, taking my dreams with it. ”

My breath hitches. Kane pinches the bridge of his nose.

I wipe a tear from my cheek before continuing, “I just—I wanted things. I wanted to be someone important. I wanted to help people. I wanted to dance in the moonlight, get lost in a really old library, feel the sting of a tattoo, and lie on the roof in a thunderstorm. I’ll never discover the best chocolate cake or soak in one of those fancy tubs. ”

Kane blinks.

I wipe my face, my hands shaking. “And I don’t blame you for that. But I do blame you for stealing the fantasy that I still had time.”

There’s a long silence between us. Kane stares at me, jaw clenched, green eyes darting back and forth, searching for something on my face he’ll never find.

“Time is a funny thing, Mayday,” he begins.

Rubbing my chest, I start to wheeze as I realize I’ve done too much. The staccato thumping beneath my ribs tells me to slow down. Now. It feels like a bear squeezing my chest and my lungs are turning to stone.

My voice comes out weak, breathless. “Kane … I can’t breathe. My heart. Keeps. Skipping.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

I release a tired sob. “I need to lie down.”

Kane stiffens as he looks back at the house. “Can you make it back to your room?”

I shake my head weakly. “I don’t think so.”

He sighs dramatically before taking pity on the wheezing woman doubled over, holding on to the side railing of the front steps. His hands reach out slowly before he jerks them back.

“ Merde ,” he mutters to himself.

Then, begrudgingly, he grabs me and lifts me up in his arms. His hold is so stiff and awkward, nothing like the romance books I’ve read.

He moves quickly, eyes straight ahead as he takes us back into the house.

As we enter, he eyes the distance to my bedroom and the living room.

I can see his mental assessment play out as he opts for the shorter distance.

He takes me to the nearest couch and sets me down.

Gently, though not altogether gracefully.

“Thanks,” I mutter, melting into the cushions.

“Don’t mention it. Ever.”

And I don’t. Not now anyway, as the shock of the past few moments zaps me of all the strength I had left, and though I fight it, I quickly fall asleep.