The Untold Story of a Grim Reaper: Chapter 6.2: Sacrifices

 

Paramedics directed us to the emergency car. They asked us if we were injured, all in all, I was fine. But Jonah’s cheek was swelling.  They insisted that both of us needed to be checked up on and taken to the hospital. I manipulated them to leave me be but I didn’t want to leave Jonah so I sat by his side while the medic checked on his cheek. When the medic handed Jonah an ice pack he told us to stay put and that we’d leave once the officers took our statements. In the meantime they handed a blanket and a bottle of water to each of us. 

As we waited, neighbors began to peak from their windows. A few of them came out of their homes, asking around what might have happened. The townhouses were all connected, so they all must have heard the first shot. 

A small group gathered in front of the house at a distance by police tape. People whispered to one another, their scenarios of what happened. What they were doing when they heard the shot. How they always thought the painter was a shady guy. I think I even heard one bystander say that the painter loved Mrs. Black. That he must have shot her because she wouldn’t leave her husband for him. Others said it was because Mr. Black was an officer. A few accused the idea of affairs, money, or even pregnancy. 

I think most of their banter was to distract from the possibility that this could have happened to any of them. Their accusations all pointed to the fact that of course it was to happen to the Black’s. Their issues were the recipe to this outcome, they all told themselves this to better sleep at night.

I couldn’t help but think they’re mindset related to the aftermath of suicide victims. I assumed that after my death my neighbors all congregated on the idea that their children would never do such a thing. That their children show no evident signs of depression or being bullied because they aren’t me. Because they can comfortably tell themselves that they raised their children better. That by accusing my suicide of a perfect recipe of the life I lead, it would be impossible for their child to be the same as me.  So their children are safe from the contagious thought that is suicide. 

Just keep telling yourself that. Just keep believing tragedies only happen to ones who ask for it.

In the midst of the neighbors and their gossip, I spotted a bright blonde head of hair and a pair of blue eyes to match, staring at me. It was Lilli, she had a small smirk pushing at her cheek. She was wearing a brown sweatshirt with the red Mortimer Private emblem on the heart. Her hands were dug deep into her sweatshirt pocket drawing my attention to a large blue paint stain smeared on the fabric.

Lilli glanced at her sweatshirt pocket and saw what I was staring at. She looked up at me with a hint of urgency in her eyes. As if she was scared I knew something that I wasn’t suppose to know. 

An officer stood in front of me, “Are you two ready to make a statement?”

I didn’t answer as I stood and leaned my head to look behind her, but Lilli was gone. I sighed, “Yes.”

Jonah nodded yes in agreement. She walked us to her car and asked us to tell her what we were doing moment to moment. Jonah spoke first and I pretty much repeated what he said. Jonah seemed off though, when he gave his statement he stuttered and held his breath when she asked if he saw the painter enter the home.

By the time we were finished with our statement, a black body bag was towed to the emergency vehicles. No doubt carrying away the empty body of Mrs. Black.

And as soon as I saw her, the pain of a life lost soaked me with a sadness that I couldn’t explain. I was Death, staring at the remnants of life and I was sad. And as if by my command, it began to rain. 

The paramedics redirected us into the emergency vans. Jonah and I walked solemnly, stoically taking our seats in the van; we sat side by side on the gurney, waiting to be taken to the hospital. 

Jonah had his hands tucked under his legs. He was still sweating with his tan skin losing all of its color. I mumbled, “Are you okay?”

Staring at the ground he murmured, “I’m sure I will be.”

I blurted, “Thank you… Jonah.” 

He didn’t look up, “I just don’t understand. I’ve known him for years. He was a strange guy… but… not dangerous… or at least I thought.” He brought his stare to the equipment in the van, “And the Black’s. Mrs. Black. I was right outside.”

“Jonah, there’s nothing you could have done. No way you could have known.”

He finally looked back at me, “No, Noa, he just showed up. Without his van, just walked past me, banging on the door. The door was locked but… but I let him in the house. He said he forgot something. I knew he had been painting their kitchen… so I didn’t think anything of it.” His eyes watered, “Noa, I shouldn’t have let him in. I should have known better.”

I leaned forward and hugged him, “I’m so sorry, Jonah.” I held his stare and did what I had to relieve his emotional scars. His body went limp and his eyes dilated, “But this was not your fault, and you will not feel guilt or regret over this. Mourn, but do not blame yourself.”

Jonah blinked and gave a weak smile, “You’re right, I know. Mrs. Black was good people. It’s just an awful thing.”

I wished someone had the ability to do this to me. Someone with the ability to look me in the eye and tell me what I needed to hear and I would believe them. 

 

It was still raining when we arrived at the emergency room. Jonah was immediately taken in to get his cheek checked on.

They again tried to get me to go in for a check up but in my exhaustion I didn’t think twice before I manipulated everyone to leave me alone.

I hated manipulating people, taking away their free will because Death didn’t want to be bothered. This ability was the most terrifying of them all, but with it for once I could make people listen to me. For once people listened and did what I said… but again, at what cost? At what moral dime do I invest too much and bankrupt myself from right and wrong?

“All set,” said Jonah as he stepped into the waiting room. He rubbed the bandage taped to his cheek, “We just have to wait for my mom.”

I asked, “That’s fine.” 

He seemed to have done a complete one-eighty in his attitude for he seemed rather chipper as he plopped himself next to me and asked, “What magazines do they have?”

I stammered, “What?”

He shuffled through the magazines on the table while smiling, “I think there’s a great issue here on-“

I stopped him, “Jonah, what are you doing?”

He folded a magazine in his lap as he leaned back, “Let me, Noa, just let me deal with this the way I want.”

I shook my head, “But you don’t have to cover it all up with this-“

He seemed offended, “This what?”

“This front you put up. That you’re happy.”

“Do you want me sobbing in your lap or something?”

I sighed, “If that’s what you need, Jonah… I just want you to know you can be real with me. You don’t have hide.”

He shook his head, “There’s too much already there. You barely know me… we’ve only recently met.”

Sternly, I said, “But you were ready to give up your life for mine today. We’re passed ‘just met.’”

He gave a small smile that lifted the tears building on his eyes, twisting the magazine in his hands while staring at his feet, “Ever since my dad passed, I’ve had to be the strong one for my mom. I’ve had to take his place in gardening and be strong for her when she cried.” He looked at me, “It’s been two years and I’ve only cried once. I’ve been putting up this barrier because the one who needs me most can’t keep herself together without it. I’ll be alright, Noa.” He took my hand and squeezed it, “Thank you.”

I leaned into his arm, “If you say so.”

A hand touched Jonah’s shoulder. I looked up to find a small woman with black hair pulled into a pony-tale. She was in a pantsuit and asked, “Baby, are you alright?”

Jonah smiled, “I’ll be fine, mom. You just have to clear me to leave.”

Jonah’s mother looked to me and gave a worried smile, “You must be Noa. I’m Jonah’s mother, Daliah.” I stood up to be polite as she asked, “Do you need me to call your parents?”

“No thank you, mam, I wasn’t hurt so I’m not being held.”

“Please, call me Daliah,” she smiled and touched Jonah’s cheek gently, “Well, I’m thankful you both are okay.” She put her car keys in her bag, “I’ll just fill out whatever paperwork and we can go.”

Jonah and I gathered ourselves at the sliding doors to wait. I asked, “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jonah looked surprise, “You’re not going to hang out tonight?”

“After what just happened? I don’t know… are you sure that’s a good idea.”

His mom approached as he mumbled, “The last thing I want is to be left alone to my thoughts.”

I shrugged, “I suppose, sure, I’ll go.”

We followed Jonah’s mother to her car and filled our tongues with the lies needed to survive in this world. The lies that we tell ourselves so that the truth is a little less effective. Jonah’s lie was that he was happy, so that his mother had one less thing to worry about.

So if a child cries and no one is around to hear it? Do they make a sound? Do they break the sound barrier of all the lies they’ve told themselves and allow a scream louder than the truth to save them? 

Or will children continue to die in silence as everyone tell themselves an even bigger lie… that no one heard them.