A Deal With Death

Let’s go back to the start…

-Edges fade to white and everything looks fuzzy-

“It’s been two months since young Airlea made her deal with death…”

[What’s up with the voice over man? Shut up –raises fist- go on.]

I watched from my window as the sun set.

It meant another night of talking depressive people out of killing themselves.

I’m just glad this isn’t a full time job.

I’m glad my mother is alive and well and she seems so much happier but…

I’m getting sick of all this.

It’s all making me depressed and I’m a happy child.

Stupid death.

I don’t even get to sleep and dream happy dreams of my subconscious anymore.

Bonus of doing the job and wearing the cloak means I don’t have to sleep.

It’s all part of his evil plan.

You know I always wondered what he does when I have to live my life.

Has he commissioned someone on the other side of the world to do the same?

Actually he must have one in every country since I only do America and it isn’t like death is a regions thing.

Stupid death making deals with people for their loved ones and in return we do his dirty work.

You know the more I listen to the suicides and their reason I start to see it in the world myself.

There are exceptions though.

Some of the suicides have horrible reasons, pitiful reason but they’re easy to talk out of.

Those with genuine reasons are harder to talk out of and they’re the ones that make me sad.

Normally I’ll end up comforting them, bet Mr death wouldn’t like that.

It’s hard when someone is breaking down and wants to die, to not comfort them.

Seeing these people breaking down and wanting to die makes me say anything so they don’t kill themselves.

Sometimes I lie and tell stories about myself to relate, sometimes it works.

Over these two months I have only lost two people, one per month.

According to Death that’s rather good.

He’s been really happy recently too, maybe I should let more people die.

I don’t like it when he’s happy because he visits me more.

You would think with people dying everywhere that he wouldn’t have time to chat, but no he finds time.

I put all my schoolwork away and pretended to get ready for bed.

It’s funny I never really had a life before because of my mother dying and now I don’t get one either.

Actually that’s not funny in anyway…

I went downstairs and told my mother I was going to bed, she had gotten used to me going to bed early.

I dragged myself upstairs after that and then pulled on the big black cloak.

As I pulled my hood over my face the scroll appeared on my bed.

Evening Airlea another night of saving people’s lives ahead, Death

I rolled my eyes as I read the note that appeared first,

Stupid Death.

He even sounds happy in his notes; he’s not supposed to be happy, he’s death.

I was happy before I was forced to do this job but that’s fading away, anything for my mother though.

I started my night in Washington DC.

A housewife was sick of her life, sick of being ordered around by her husband.

I took the gun away from her and talked her into just leaving him and take all his money.

By the time I left her she was happy and determined; it was so weird how people’s moods can change so much.

After two more patients I was taken back to where I live, it seems that everyone in my neighbourhood wasn’t so happy.

The guy was about my age, he looked slightly familiar but I couldn’t place him.

He was sitting in his bathroom slumped in between the bath and toilet.

He was sobbing and had his head hung and in his hand was a razor.

“Don’t do it,” I said in the gentlest way possible, I was always a compassionate person and this has made me even more.

He didn’t even look up at me he just kept crying.

“It doesn’t have to be this way” I walked a little closer to him.

He laughed to himself “Now I know I’m out of it I’m hearing voices” he shook his head

“You’re not hearing voices I’m actually here” not too good that would do him since I looked like death.

He raised his head and looked at me with his sad soft green eyes.

“I’m real original, death” he laughed again, I think he though he was imagining things.

“I am actually here, you’re not imagining anything” I knelt in front of him but not close enough so he could touch me.

“So death why are you here? To take me to the other side when I finally decide to do this?” he still didn’t believe me.

“I’m not death and I’ve come to talk you out of doing what you’re doing” I explained to him.

“What? So what are you then?” he asked looking thoroughly confused hopefully taking his mind off what he was doing.

“Um… I would say I’m the suicide angel just because that has a nice ring to it but I’m not an angel but I do look after suicides.

“I don’t really know what I am or if what I am even has a name.

“I talk people out of committing suicide because death is sick of you all wrecking his list, I’m death’s assistant I guess…”

That’s all that I could come up with, death never gave me a name to what I was he just told me what to do.

“Bet that’s a shitty job” he huffed and then went back to staring at the razor.

I knew I needed to get his attention off the razor long enough for him to calm down.

“It has its ups and downs, saving people is nice especially when they still have a life” I answered with a smile he couldn’t see.

My hood hung so low you couldn’t actually see my face.

I continued to talk with this guy until he disappeared off my list, I was glad that he was my last for the night.

I left him to fall asleep on his bathroom floor and then went back home.