Massacre.

I shut out the world.

I don’t really remember what happened after Reaper told me.

Everything just seemed like a blur.

I think he picked me up, I think Bones tried to talk to me, but I really just blocked everything out.

I don’t know how long it's been, but it feels like I’ve been in my own bed forever.

I haven’t moved since Reaper left me here.

I’ve just been. . . I don’t even know.

Sometimes I’m staring at the wall.

Sometimes I’m engulfed in darkness.

There's moments where I am just numb, and moments where I can’t breathe because I’m in so much pain; but I haven't moved an inch.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don't feel like myself anymore.

It feels like I’m changing, but I don’t really know if I am or, if so, into what.

I’m just. . . here. In my bed, in the same position Reaper left me, for maybe a few days but it’s felt like years and I’m in and out of consciousness. It scares me. I feel like I don’t know myself anymore.

___

It’s after another episode of pain that Reaper comes into my room. I know he’s come in and out a couple times before, but this is the first where my senses are on overdrive. When he sits down on the edge of my bed, the sound hurts my ears.

Reaper places a hand on my shoulder and I flinch away from him, my body finally moving after days of staying in one place.

I look at Reaper and he looks at me.

I can see his eyes studying my face, but when he finally returns my gaze, his eyebrows furrow. He looks surprised for a moment but then his facial expression becomes serious.

He turns to sit at the edge of my bed, his back facing me.

“Massacre. . .” he begins.

“I have watched you grow. . .right before my eyes. . . you’re not a kid anymore. . . you’re changing.”

I sit up and watch the back of his head, his voice is low and serious.

“I’ve lived for a long, long time, Massacre. I have a high reputation, you know that. I’ve worked so hard to be where I am at. . . so it’s not unusual for people to ask me for favors.”

Now I tilt my head, curios as to where this conversation is going.

“Sometimes people want my money, sometimes they want my advice for a court case because I’m an expert, but sometimes I will get the occasional odd request.”

The way his tone shifts has me on edge.

“Massacre, someone asked me to take care of you, because they couldn't. I agreed to take responsibility of you only until they were able to, but I know that you being here is no longer good for you. . .”

Reaper clears his throat and gets up.

“Pack your stuff and meet me downstairs in an hour,” he commands and leaves my room. I slowly do as he says.