Nothing Personal

'GOD, finally. Thought I'd never get this done.'
I don't even bother to sit, what the hell for anyway? I'll be most likely hittin' the road in a minute or so. Death smiles lightly. Geez, man, stop. Doing. That. It's creepy.
'Good to see you're happy. And… you don't look bad at all.', he says, tilting his head to the side.
'Drop it. So, I think it's settled. I'm leading Lasten's wife back to the world and everyone's happy and fine and dandy. Except for her late dad, may he rest in peace. Es? Never mind that. Be leaving then, I'll give our war hero best regards from you and an autographed photo, maybe, bye…
'WAIT.'
I turn to him, disoriented. What's wrong? Thought it's all settled.
'You know our laws.', he says, standing up.
'Yes, I know. All is fine. I killed Adeline.'
'But she came back.' Steps in front of the desk.
'Not my problem.' I make one step forward.
'Technically, yours. She IS crazy. And you ARE responsible for crazies.' Step.
'Crazy HUMAN beings. She's not human.' Step.
'Neither is Martin Lasten.' Step.
'HALF human either way. We're getting off topic.'
Now we're having this typical "western moment" when the protagonist and the antagonist are veeeeery close and they're discussing the date for a face-off. The difference is that I am much taller now and I can look the motherfucker straight into the eyes.
'Yes, we are. ' He steps back a little, so do I, but we're still staring at each other.
'So I have to kill another person in order for the Soldier Girl to live? '
Notice, my sweeties, that I said "kill". No more euphemisms. That's a big step. Can I have an ovation? Thank you, now shut up.
Death is silent. I take it as a yes.
'Who is it? '
'Her mother. '
'She's dying of a brain tumour, right? It'll be simple… too simple. Where's the catch? '
Death openly grins now. Every time he grins, a panda dies. It makes me scared. Not pandas, his grin.
'Clever as always, aren't we? ' Death sits on the desk. He seems relaxed.
And then there's explosion.
'You need to convince her to go with you.'
If I wasn't standing, I'd stand up right now and flip the desk.
'Excuse me? '
'As you heard. I'll provide everything you need. '
It wasn't supposed to be like that. I'm done with lying, done with tricks. I already got my ass kicked for that, for Hell's sake! So, sorry, but I won't do it.
'No. '
'What? '
'I said "no". "No" means "no". I'm not doing this shit. There has to be another way. I won't lie. I'm down with lying. So – NO. Not this time. '
BOOM. I find myself pinned to the opposite wall by an actual nothing. This "nothing" is a lethal combination of Death's psychic abilities AND his anger.
Judging by the size of bruises and the speed of them forming on my wrists… he's pissed as fuck.
'You will. I can make you. It won't be pleasant, you know it won't. When was the last time someone messed with YOUR head? '
Damn, damn, I'm so screwed now. I knew it would happen, that's what you get for acting all righteously and what not, isn't it!? I was better with being a damn egoist, after all. I'll never again do this, NOT EVER, not in the million years, rebelling just doesn't make sense…
Ow. Hitting the floor.
He won. He always wins.
What did I expect? I'm not even a real reaper. I don't count as a full human being, that is. The truth is that I'm pretty much worthless. It's a statement, not self-pity.
I'm leaving.
'You have any plan?', I "hear". Yes. In fact, I do.
'I'll be needing my voice for an hour or two.'
I look at him. I don't mean to be challenging or what not. I don't want him to think it's a trick.
Finally, he nods. Does he? I never know.
'And I wa… I'd be thankful for a privilege of a full control over my abilities. Just for this time.
I'm nice as I never been, he better appreciate that.
He does.
'All yours. Now go.
It's a big project and he already knows it. Sometimes it's good to have missions like this one, no matter how shitty they can make one feel. If I did it just like that, I'd be pretty much smitten. The Angels would never leave me alone.
It wouldn't be the worst thing about it, to be honest.
____

She's praying in the hospital chapel. Woman in her late fifties, a kerchief on her bald head. She's skinny, weak from the chemo. It will be easy after all, I guess.
I just appear in front of her, to give more "celestial" accent to whole thing.
She jumps in the place, and gasps.
'Don't be afraid', I say. I actually say it. It's such a weird feeling.
'What—Who are you?', she asks, frightened even more.
'Will you believe me if I tell you the truth?' How funny.
She doesn't say anything, she's clearly startled. There we go now.
'I am an Angel of the Lord', I say. On the inside, I'm laughing my butt off, cause I hear Cas saying it with this so fuckin' serious face. Good old Cas… who'd know he'd find himself a girlfriend? Gotta ask him when I'm back to the Zones…
Why do I even consider coming back there?
'It's impossible', says Mama Soldier. Nothing original.
'Do you doubt your senses?', I ask in a mild, nice tone. Gets them everytime.
'Angels don't just… appear.'
She's starting to believe me, but it's still not IT. Thank universe, I have one more trick up in the sleeve.
I calmly alter her perception, "forming" my shadow on the walls behind me to the shape of wings.
Jackpoint! She's got nothing on it. It'll be easy as pie now. I forgot how fun it was to fool around with humans. Maybe I'll start to lie again? Who cares about the heroes! All you get for being the righteous one is just more and more shit you need to shovel yourself…
And I come to the point when I realize something. I AM making it worse for Agnes. When she wakes up, she'll be… devastated. Her bipolar disorder will most likely get three times worse. She might jump off the window… WHAT? No! Why would she do that? She's a grown woman, she's married, for Holy Mother of Jesus! She'll manage. Her problems aren't mine, period.
'How did I… deserve to be… honoured by such a visit?', whispers The Mother, shocked and bewildered and… wait, is that hope in her eyes?
'Your prayers have been listened", I answer. 'Your daughter will be healed…'
She cries out of joy. Pure, sheer joy. I didn't expect it… not at all. "The Mother" falls to my feet, thanking me, thanking God, Jesus, all the Saints, I throw a quick glance at the door – no one sees it. I know I shouldn't, but I find this situation kind of ridiculous. Specifically, the woman's behaviour. I get the relief and stuff, but… seriously. It's pretty embarrassing. Does that make me a bad person? That being sorry isn't my business, that I think it's, in most of cases, getting in the way? Welp, still not sorry. Let's move on.
'But… there is a condition. One condition.'
She looks up at me. She… knows.
I wait.
'Do it.'
What? No… no way. She REALLY agreed? Now we went full-soap-opera, it seems. Or didn't we? She… she really loves her daughter that much? This… this egocentric, lying, sick—
'Do it. Please. I already lived out my time. If it saves Agnes – do it. She's young, she just got married. There's a whole life ahead of her. Please…'
The way she looks at me, those big eyes filled with hope, with unspoken plea… I can't stand it. For the first time in years, I actually FEEL something, I'm AWARE of it, something that isn't induced by fear, panic, or an amount of alcohol I drank. THIS is real.
This is sorrow.
A sudden rush of blood to the head which provokes you to do the unthinkable, to DO something that YOU want.
Madame, don't listen to me, I lied, it's a trick, I'm a reaper, IT'S A TRAP--
'So be it', I just say.
The rush is gone.
I changed nothing.
_____

Agnes is waking up right now, her mother is dying "of cancer", and I am sitting in the bathroom and staring at myself in the mirror, and I simply don't believe in what I see, that I still can look at myself and not feel anything. No disgust, no horror, though I should be, but NO. Nothing.
I just feel old.
Curious, it is.
I used to have so much mercy. Compassion, even. But it's all gone.
I was right.
Agnes IS no better than me.
I was wrong.
I AM no better than her.
And I don't feel anything.
At all.
____

I leave the bathroom and head for her room. She should be awake by now.
I'm surprised. The room is still full of doctors. What happened? I walk inside. Invisible, this time. I push through to her bed.
One look at her face and everything is clear.
She went blind.
_____

'I knew Death wouldn't let you go just like that.'
_____
I walk her out of the hospital. She's still having trouble with speaking. I know her mind is alright, it's just her body that can't keep up with it.
She's coming home. Well – the only "home" she has now. She didn't want to, oh, no. She went silent for days, sometimes she demolished the room and got hurt. There's still a gash on her shoulder, from the time when she jumped on someone who tried to calm her town. It turned out it was a surgeon... that was painful.
I'm "telling" her what date is it by "drawing" letters on her palm. It's the 1st of January. The day is dry and chilly to the bone.
She's scared and confused and she doesn't want to go because she knows.
She will hurt the last person alive that she holds dear, hurt him to the core. There will be tears and silence for weeks and panic attacks and complete helplessness and lead-heavy feeling of being empty inside and it's devouring the last shreds of sanity she holds onto.
She might be no better than me.
Which doesn't change the fact that she's not the one who still feels actually nothing. She isn't the one who is being plain cruel, knows it, and yet does nothing about it. She's not me.
I find it kind of funny.
I find it kind of sad.