Massacre.

I don't understand how Reaper can stand wearing suits all day. They're extremely constricting, hot, and stiff. I'd much rather prefer to wear a simple shirt and jeans, but I guess you have to look formal when you're standing in a room with super natural beings that take the souls of the dead for a living.

I repeatedly tug the cuffs of my shirt while my eyes dart across the room. I am met with the faces of many in the business of taking souls to the after life. Each has strikingly unique and beautiful eyes.

Chatter and laughter carry throughout the ball room. I try to intake each appearance, some dressed in full on suits with bow ties while others wear simple dress shirts. The ladies all wear formal dresses or even their own pencil skirts with suit jackets.

My eyes manage to land themselves across familiar faces, the itch to call out to them is strong but I refrain. Many of those faces barely glance in my direction.

"Massacre. . ." Reaper says sternly beside me. My teeth tug at my bottom lip and I nervously look at him. Amber eyes burn into my own, causing me too look away sharply.

"I'm trying. . ." I grumble and cross my arms. The man beside me just sighs.

My shoulders slump forward. Is he disappointed in me?

Defeated, I keep my gaze on my shoes while Reaper remains beside me. However, little by little he shifts his weight and moves away, slowly, so slowly until he's gone, talking with collegues.

I feel a weight press down on my chest again and the urge to curl into a ball again begins. I furiously nibble at the inside of my cheek, feeling insignificant in a room with the supernatural.

I can feel my nerves feed paranoia, so I turn away and stare at the finger food.

I reach for a piece of some sort of chocolate cake. Before it touches my tongue, I put it back down, it doesn't look appetizing any more.

"Massacre" a voice calls from behind me. I turn my head, a familiar dark haired man coming into view. His tall form gracefully slips through the ocean of reapers and comes to tower beside me.

A small smile manages to work its way onto my lips, "Howell."

I've known Howell forever, just as long as I've known Reaper. Although Howell's appearance was frequent when I was younger, as I've grown his presence has lessens. Just like all my friends.

Howell's absence was something I didn't understand but, seeing him still filled my insides with warmth. Howell always smiled at me and allowed me to speak to my hearts content.

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I then notice that his face is slim, skin pasty. His hair is unruly and bags have formed under his eyes.

"How are you?" I ask warily.

"I'm fine" he insists even though it's obvious he's not.

I want to pester him more but he changes the subject.

"Massacre you've grown, have you been keeping up with your studies?"

I huff and scrunch my nose.

"I don't need that crap" I growl. Howell just laughs, the sound flooding my ear drums momentarily. I smile.

"Learning has its benefits" he insist but I shake my head.

"Maybe if I had a role in society, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm just taking up space" I motion to the crowded room and the vast empty space between me and everyone else. Howell's face turns serious again.

"Massacre" he coaxes.

"You know I'm right."

"That's not true. . ." he trailed off. I snorted and rolled my eyes.

"Don't lie to me Howell."

"You and I both know I would never feed you such false words."

I remained quiet after that, feeling a bit guilty because he was right. Howell wasn't the type of person to do things like that.

"Where's Reaper?" he asks, stepping closer to me while his eyes search the crowd. I notice a couple of reapers looking at me, and I start to feel a bit anxious.

"I don't know. . ."

Howell wraps his hand around my forearm and pulls me forward.

He tugs me through the sea of people, my feet clumsily stepping on shoes. I whisper apologies to everyone I bother and keep my head down. My body automatically gravitates closer to him and my shoulders slump forward again.

"Reaper" Howell calls as we break into a thin area of the mass of bodies. I peak out from behind Howell at Reaper who watches us closely. His eyes look towards Howell for a few moments and then turn back to me.

"Massacre, Howell doesn't count" he scolds. My face reddens and I press it against Howells back. My fingers take hold of his suit jacket.

"Trying to get him to socialize?"

"Yes but as you can see, I'm not having much luck" Reaper sighs. His companions eye us and then slip away into the mass of beings.

I feel like a disease, everyone keeps me at a distance.

Even Reaper.