Massacre.

"Shut up!" I hissed, pushing the marionette away from me as I settled to sit on the wood paneled floor.

"But Massacre, Reaper doesn't like it when you watch him, you can break his concentration," it insisted. I whipped my head around at the skeleton, a frown on its face. The skeleton nervously hugged his strings and control bar to his chest and looked down the hall warily. I pursed my lips at him and furrowed my eye brows.

"He won't get mad at me, he never does," I insisted.

"B-But Massacre-"

"Shut up, Bones," I growled and glared at him, knowing my negative emotions displayed themselves on the irises of my eyes and manipulated their color. He always got freaked out by it, especially since it was never a solid color, but more of a mixture of many.

The marionette just nodded and closed his wooden, dark stained mouth and sat down near my feet. One of his hands reached out to touch my toes and I bit my lip to refrain from yelling at him. I pulled my feet closer and he just sighed. I huffed and looked into the room again anticipating what I knew was coming.

He sat in the middle of the bare room. The walls and floor stark, white marble. Reaper sat on a chair that almost looked like the throne of some king. But it wasn't an ordinary chair, because it helped strengthened his abilities to do his job. The chair was made of dark, almost black stained wood, with various symbols drawn all over it, just like the marionette beside me.

He was dressed in black slacks, and a black button up dress shirt. For some reason he always insisted on dressing formal. I smiled to myself, watching as his head titled back and he began working his skills.

Reaper was quiet and still for a minutes, then he took a sharp breath.

I watch his skin pale until it is pasty and the veins underneath begin to reveal themselves with rich colors. Black, almost transparent tendrils slowly began to inch their way out his eye sockets and mouth.

He was beautiful.

I was mesmerized.

One by one, the open doors in the hall way began to shut and lock, a soft whoosh signifying the activation of magic trapping the souls in the rooms. Voices of anger, sadness, denial and pain filled my ears.

Bones began to shake beside me, the sound resembling teeth chattering in the cold. I rolled my eyes at him and continued watching Reaper collect souls. He was traveling through time, harvesting the souls assigned to him, taking them at their precise time of escaping their human bodies.

"No! I'm not fucking dead, get back here! This is a mistake!" Someone yelled pounding on the door in front of me. Instinctively I grabbed the puppet beside me and pulled him to my chest, curling up as the door continued to shake. The carvings on the trimming of the doorway deepened and pulsed with each protest.

For a moment the voices all got louder, to the point where I had to cover my ears. My heart began pounding in my chest, breathing became difficult. The tattoo on my collarbone began to burn. Bones struggled to get out of my tight hold. I just closed my eyes and pulled him closer. The sounds growing louder and louder. . .

and then everything was silent.

"What have I told you," a soft voice whispered into my left ear. I shuddered, blindly reaching for the inhaler in his hand and taking the medicine.

"You broke him again," Reaper tsked, taking Bones from out of my hold, his wooden legs separated from his body. I bit back the need to say a smart ass comment and just took another spray of the inhaler.

I whimpered and reached out to him, pleading with my eyes for him to ignore my rule breaking and just hold me. My hand instinctively rubbed the ache of my tattoo.

Reaper sighed and quickly whispered a few words to put Bones back together and summon him back to life. The marionette didn't say anything, just put his head down in shame.

Reaper hoisted my small frame up, my arms wrapped around his neck and I buried my face into his snow white hair.

"Goodness, Massacre, what am I going to do with you?" he sighed.

Love me?