Page 1 of Reaper
Prologue
Graycloudsblanketthegloomy skies, matching the despair suffocating my black heart. I’ve dreaded this day for so long, the inevitable heavy weight crushing my chest. But time stops for no man, no matter all the obstacles life throws in front of you. And it doesn’t stop for love.
Death eventually comes for us all.
Once the last of the crowd disappears, and the cries and wails of grief vanish among the howls of the cold Michigan winter winds, they slowly lower the pristine white casket into the semi frozen ground. With each inch, I know this moment will change me forever.
Death isn’t something I’ve thought a lot about until I met her. I know I’m not invincible, despite my recklessness, but the chilling thought that someone I love, I will have to bury, has sent my mind into a spiral.
She’s been my peace in the midst of chaos. And now that she’s gone, the demons have resurfaced, coming back full force. All I can do now is wait for Him to take me, too.
When I’m sure no one will see me, I step from behind the large oak tree, proudly standing only a few feet away, casting a protective shadow over her burial site.
Reluctantly, I make my way to her grave.
I’ve been watching the graveside service from behind the oak tree, careful not to cause a scene, and thankful they’ve kept one of her wishes. She didn’t want an extravagant funeral in a church with all the bells and whistles. She wanted something simple because that’s how she was—a simple woman who loved a simple life.
Even though I took care of all her funeral arrangements before she passed, her family doesn’t want me here. Out of respect for them, I made sure to stay out of sight until they left. But there’s no way in hell I will not be here for the one woman who means the world to me, no matter what her family wants. Just like in life, I’ll always be there for her and death will not change that.
The people closest to her believe I caused all this. Like I have the power to inflict her with the disease that ravaged her body and the power to cure it, too. Even though I’m not the cause of her death, I don’t blame them. Whatever helps them sleep at night now that she’s gone. If being their boogeyman gives them solace at this time, so be it. I want them to have peace because she would want them to have peace.
She’s their child, aunt, sister, and niece. But she’s the love of my life, and I did things for her they never allowed her to do. Like taking a road trip to a beach down south because she wanted to watch the sun rise above the ocean waters. And it’s where she peacefully took her final breaths in my arms with the ocean breeze against her yellow-tinted, thin skin.
In those last days she could barely hold her head up, but as a warm breeze swirled around us with the wet sand between our toes, the day was calm like the Universe had already determined this would be her last day. She didn’t complain of any pain, orhave any vomiting spells, like she normally did. She was at peace for the first time in months.
It made me angry and heartbroken when she said I love you, a smile ghosting her lips, then she took that final deep shuttering breath and closed her eyes as the sun broke the surface of the ocean on the horizon.
It was the first time I cried in years and in my selfishness, I cursed her for not fighting harder to stay with me. Then I cursed God for taking her away from me.
Of course, my anger had been misplaced, but at that time, anger was all I had to hold on to. It was all I could feel. But now that my nightmare has become my reality, I feel absolutely nothing, like there’s a hollow void inside my chest.
I stood by her side and the decision she made not to live her final days attached to some tube pumping her veins full of poison, instead of trying to convince her to stick around and endure unspeakable pain, so we didn’t have to prepare ourselves for this dreadful day. That wasn’t fair to her. But standing by her decision was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. I wanted her to fight like hell to stay alive just as much as her family wanted her to. I want her here with me, right now more than anything. I’ll always want her here with me.
No matter our feelings, I’m sure it was a tough decision for Blake not to fight when so many people wanted her to try. But understandably, she didn’t want to live her days while toxins were pumped inside her just to kill another poison destroying her.
It was her decision to make. Not mine. Not theirs. No matter how much we wanted to be the one to decide.
Now, her family detests me for standing by her. They despise me because she loved me. They believed because of our love, I could make her change her mind. But like I said, I don’t blame them for hating me. They need someone to blame for her death,and as a last gift to her, I gladly became their scapegoat because it gives them peace I’ll never have.
They believe her refusal to slow down, even while battling cancer, caused her to die, not the disease consuming her body. Everything we did together in those last months helped her live and die the way she wanted to. With me by her side and free. Free to be excited to see and experience new things and free to determine how she left this world. A lot of people don’t have the opportunity to experience or to decide, but she did. Although it was difficult seeing her struggle more and more the closer Death came, I’m happy I did that for her because I love her.
Loved her.
It still hurts that she’s not here with me, but I’ll never forget her laugh, the way she smiled when she screamed to the heavens on the back of my bike as we raced down the road, or the gleam in her eyes when she experienced something for the first time. Whether it was a new city or a food, she had never tried before. All those times are ingrained in my memory as the happiest times of my life.
I do, however, question why I’m alive, and she isn’t. I’ve killed. I’ve maimed. I’ve done almost everything you can think of that isn’t righteous or holy, but I get the chance to have a full life. Not a life free from bullshit, of course, but free from illness. Free from genuine pain. While she got none of that. However, no matter how many times I’ve asked whoever is listening, I’ve never gotten an answer. So, today I stopped asking and just settled on it just isn’t my time… yet.
Despite the anger, the heartache, and the pain assaulting my heart and soul, I warily drag myself to her grave. My feet slowly trudge through the snow covering the ground like lead weights. We’ve only known each other for a little over a year, but it feels like I’ve known her a lifetime. The love we share is a once in a lifetime kind of love.
Or it was a once in a lifetime kind of love.
“Fuck!”
I rub my hand down my tired face. I’ve got to start getting used to thinking of her in the past tense, which is very hard to do. Even today, I woke up after a restless night of tossing and turning, my hand instinctively reaching for her to pull her into my arms, only to be met with cold, empty space. A heartbreaking reminder of her absence. That’s a hard fact for me to grasp, but every time I wake up, I’m hit with my new reality all over again. Blake’s not here. She’s gone forever. And now I’m all alone.
When she was diagnosed, we’d only been dating for close to six months. I have to admit, I’d never met anyone quite like her. She didn’t take shit from me and made me laugh until I cried. She quickly became my world. Then her illness progressed so quickly and all I wanted to do was make her happy no matter what other people said about me.
Nobody thought I was good enough for her. They were right. I wasn’t, although she disagreed. But fuck all of them. It was about her. Not them. Not me. It was about how she wanted to live her life before she died.
