Sometimes I wish I would have ended up in one of the final resting places instead of being a reaper. Maybe I was a horrible mortal and this is my punishment. But then I wouldn’t be experiencing the happiness I am now. It makes this death hurt even more, now that I’ve had a glimpse of what it feels like to truly live.
Is that how these souls with unfinished business feel?
“Let me take you to your final resting place.”
“And if I don’t?”
I sigh and shuffle my robes. “Then you’ll become a ghost. Wherever your body finally rests, you will be tied to it foreternity. Your family may visit you and you’ll get to see them through the veil. But it isn’t a life worth living.”
“I’d see my mom?” she says hopefully, and I sigh.
“You would, but it wouldn’t be like how you see her now, and when she passes, and those who love you are gone, there will be no one left to visit your grave or your urn. You’ll just be stuck here forever.”
“That’s what I want.”
“I don’t think you underst?—”
“Is it not my choice?” she asks, glaring at me with so much defiance.
“You can’t change your mind later. I’ve never heard of a ghost being brought out of the veil. You’ll be trapped on this plane with nothing to do.”
“It’s what I want.”
“Let me just show you the good place, so then you can make the right choice.”
“My choice is made. Leave me,” she says.
I look over at Gloom, and he sighs, walking back over to me and grabbing my arm and squeezing.
“You know this happens, Mors. She’s made her choice.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s doing. What the life of a ghost is actually like.”
“That’s not our decision. Come on, let’s go get a coffee and head back home.”
I take one look back at the soul, feeling like I didn’t do enough. Her afterlife is going to be filled with nothing but suffering as a ghost.
What could I have said to make her change her mind? Was I not kind enough, clear enough?
Losing a soul to have them choose to stay here and suffer feels like the ultimate failure as a reaper.
And there’s nothing I loathe more than being a failure.
After our coffees, I make my way to my apartment.
Part of me is hoping that Juliet is here, the other part hopes that she went back to Cupidale. She shouldn’t have to suffer this mood I’m in, nor should she have to relieve the burden of this weight.
Not only do I not think it’s fair to her, I also don’t want to ruin what we have before it truly starts. If she realizes how upset I can be sometimes after work, maybe it will be a turnoff. She’s a cupid after all. Her life is hearts, swans, and pink glitter.
What do I bring to the table beyond our sexual chemistry?
I can’t offer Juliet a life filled with unbridled happiness. I can’t say that I’ll be in a good mood most of the time, because I’m not. My best foot has been forward each time we’ve met. She hasn’t seen this side of me. What if she hates what she sees?
Fuck.
I open the door to the apartment, and she’s fully dressed, looking like she’s on the verge of tears.
“You were gone awhile,” she says.
