Page 20 of In Death's Hands
I remember their laughs, my cheeks hurting from smiling too much. That part is nice, but I sometimes wish I could forget it too, if only to miss them less. To be hurt less by the huge hole created by their absence. And I remember him. I remember the dark robe covering his face, the down-set shoulders and the utter sadness and loneliness emanating from him. I remember the ugly scythe he quickly hid from me. I also remember hugging him. But mostly, what has not left my head for even a second since that day is the memory of my soul being ripped from my body, and the utter confusion of waking up in my heavy limbs and damaged skin after all I’d seen.
“You are Death’s assistant,” I say, breaking the silence.
“I know you won’t believe me, but—”
“I do.”
Two sets of eyes settle on me, displaying the shock and disbelief I’m sure they were expecting from me. If he’s Death’s assistant, who is Turan? How does she fit in all this? “You do?” she asks, as if wondering the same about me.
I simply nod.
“Why?” Nathan whispers.
“Because I remember.” I want to keep going, to explain, but my throat is too tight. The words too heavy on my tongue.
While Turan throws me a questioning look, it’s Nathan’s reaction that puzzles me. His eyes widen and his skin blanches. “You remember?” The voice is not his own, not the one I’ve become accustomed to. Instead of being deep and vibrant, it is now a shadow of what it used to be. Shaky. Trembling.
The light suddenly dims in the room, as if the shadows are reacting to the heaviness of the conversation.
“You—” I pause when I notice his step backwards. “Your boss. He was there. He… helped me.” I’ve been back and forthon that fact all my life. But lately I chose to see his intervention as something good rather than a curse that left me all alone in a world that was as close-minded as a sixteenth-century priest.
“What do you mean hehelpedyou?” There’s enough bite in Turan’s voice that I turn to her, only to find her staring intensely at Nathan. “Helped you how?” she asks while maintaining her death glare.
“I— Well—” Taking a shaky breath, I will my thoughts to organise themselves. To stop sounding so lost and out of my depth. “I think I died.” Turan turns slowly towards me, eyes wide. “Then was brought back to life.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see Nathan flinch, but when I turn to him, his face is strangely blank.
“What do you have to say aboutthat, brother?”
I jolt. “Brother?” Didn’t they say they were only distantly related?
“Of sorts,” he tells me, waving his hand in dismissal. “I have nothing to say, Turan. I guess you’ll have to take it up with my… boss.”
“Oh, you c—”
“So he’s real?” My whispered question is somehow enough to interrupt Turan before she launches further into what was sure to be a venomous rant.
“He is.” She sighs gently, as if aware of the years of doubts and trauma that one belief caused me.
“And you’re mad because I should be dead?” I hate how weak my voice is.
“Oh, honey! No! I’m glad you’re alive. I’m just worried about the natural order of things.”
Nathan scoffs beside me. “What natural order? The Tapestry has been lost. Her living didn’t alter anything; she was just a child.”
“Are you so sure about that?”
I need to sit down.
Iamsitting down. I get up and walk to the windows, looking out at the bustling cityscape below. What tapestry are they talking about? How could my life alter anything? I’m just a blip of human flesh and awareness lost in the vast universe. I’m just a temporary spot of life that is doing its very best to enjoy what little time it has here. To figure outwhyI was spared and they weren’t.
I hear their voices in the background but cannot focus on the words they throw at each other. Even if I could, I’m not sure I would understand much of it. But is there anything to understand in this life?
I was right. I can’t believe that after all this time, I finally have people around me that believe me. Maybe I should be sceptical, maybe I should fear their motives and ask myself if they are trying to manipulate me. But I saw a man disappear. I saw Nathan commanding people made of shadows. And all those years ago, IsawDeath. Ifeltthe tears in my soul as it was ripped from my too-young body. Despite everything, despite all the confusion and fear, cool relief is overwhelming as I whisper to myself, tasting salt on my lips, “I was right. I’m not crazy.”
“No, you’re not,” Nathan says quietly beside me. I didn’t hear him move. “I’m sorry you ever thought you were.”
“Now what?” asks Turan, strangely echoing my own thoughts.
