The Untold Story of a Grim Reaper: Chapter 19.2: Constants and Changes

My feathered cloak swept against the station tile, my shoes scuffled their way to the talking shadows. Stepping with my left foot, I slid peacefully into the sand and felt the miniature pearls brush against my cold flesh. I passed through the sanctuary and repeated my thoughts of how serine this playground of oblivion was. No matter how ignorant it sounded to me… I yearned to forget everything I was and was becoming.

My black-sanded transportation appeared and I quickly stepped into it to evaporate all of my childish desires. I reappeared in the same dark corner as I left in and undid my cloak to fold into my ribcage.

It was now getting darker, the sky looked like the finger painting of a child; pinks, reds, and oranges splashed and shifted as the sun fell. I wanted to think of something positive, so I brought myself back to my friend Vincent. I learned from him how to be still, how to be still in any ever changing world. 

The most powerful thing about him was his ability to be still. To be content with silence. Whereas the rest of the world drowned out the honest whispers so to avoid the cruel cold world… while at the same time missing all the good things about it. Vincent was a lovely soul.

Trapped within my stale lungs was the desire to be loved. But the real question was dod I even love myself? And once I found that love… would it even be enough? 

Accepting love from another is a brave thing.

An even braver thing is to love yourself, because at that moment, you are allowing yourself to be selfish. Something we are told at a young age to avoid. But if I had only looked after myself more, if I had only told myself it was okay to be selfish for the better of my health… I might not be here. I was too scared to love myself… I was too scared to give myself any reason to live. Hope can be scary sometimes, promises can be threatening, and desire can be heartbreaking. 

I had hit rock bottom and the only tunnel out was a trap. And the only connection and only desires of life I had left all led me back to Aaron. 

Aaron made me feel human, he made me feel like I’m worth breaking the silence. And the way things left off between us made me want the silence to swallow me whole. Aaron was expecting a lot out of me… but I knew I was expecting a lot out of him too… expecting him to help me feel alive again.
    I finally head into the building, grabbed my pack from my locker, and headed back outside through the art room. Sliding it shut, I stepped outside to the smell of rain wafting around me. The clouds were abundant but didn’t look too threatening.

I had two choices, to head to the home I’ve stolen from Julius and Ethel… or to head towards Aaron. I needed reassurance… or maybe just attention… so I decided on visiting Aaron. I couldn’t enjoy the rest of my night without clearing things up with him.

Within minutes I soared to the gates of Aaron’s neighborhood. Sneakily ducking under the gate and walking to his abode, I took cover in the approaching dusk. My scuffling feet met his driveway and I tiptoed to his backyard. The tree house looked nicer than the last time I had visited, probably because the crooked decorations and broken bottles were gone and now it just looked like a home.

Not needing the rope ladder, I scaled the tree and knocked with the horseshoe knocker. A series of clunks and beats later I heard the unhinging of a lock and the air pressure give way as Aaron opened the latch. I waved and gave a weak smile, “Can I come in?”

Peering his head down the tree he asked, “You can just simply climb a twenty foot tree without any issue?”

I joked, “Faith, trust, and pixie dust. I can only make it look easy for so long. Can I come in?”

He grinned, “Of course.”

I hooked my feet in and climbed to the sturdy ground of Aaron’s oak home. Aaron closed the door behind him and locked the switch. I dusted the wood chips from my clothes and watched him reassemble himself on his couch with a book.

Sheepishly, I asked, “What are you reading?”

He sighed, “Peter Pan, again, I just like the story.”

I confessed, “I’ve seen the movie but I haven’t read it yet.”

He explained, “How? It was the summer reading? We’ve been having quizzes and essays over it all week.” Aaron was smiling but it was only to disguise his frustration and confusion, “Have you seen the play at least?”

“I am tonight,” I shuffled my feet backwards, doubt in my tone, “You look like you have a lot of work to do. I’ll let you get back to it.”

Aaron looked up offended, “Is that all you came to say? That’s it?”

I shrugged, I wasn’t good with confrontation anytime I had to measure up to someones angered questions my lip would quiver from my loss of answers, “I just don’t want you to think I never cared or ever stopped caring… about Jonah.”

Aaron tossed his book to the sofa as he stood, “I would never think that, Noa. It’s me who’s at fault, I put too much pressure on you. I sometimes forget you’ve only started here a week ago. I feel like we’ve all known each other for much longer though. Jonah shouldn’t be something you need to worry yourself with, I will handle it. Jonah is going to be okay.” I noticed solemn tension in his neck when he asked, “are you going to be okay?”

I dug my hands in my pockets, my tone didn’t match my words, “I’m sure I will be.”

“I’m really sorry, Noa, I feel awful for being so hard on you.” He led himself toward me to search for an embrace and I welcomely returned the gesture. My head resting on his neck, soaking in the warmth of his skin. Making me feel just a bit more human. Aaron was the only person who ignored my cold skin. The only one who didn’t think anything of it and just kept it in his grasp. No flinching. No questions. He accepted everything I am. 

I wanted to be honest with him about who I was. About the creature he was trusting. That the face he adored was not mine. 

I had to let him go. I couldn’t invest any part of me to him or Jonah because they would die and I wouldn’t. I would remain young forever, but Aaron would change. 

I was Peter Pan and he was Wendy, and I would keep coming back to the idea that we belonged together, but our hearts spoke different languages and owned different homes. I would play tricks on his feelings and feed the lie that this could go on as long as I liked. But in the end, I would fly to my second star to the right and he would grew old. I cared about him too much to hurt him with hope.

I released from his hold and said, “I should go.” I turned around on the balls of my feet. Aaron grabbed my wrist to turn me to face him. Suddenly bringing his lips within breaths reach, I winced as I turned my face in time for him to miss my absinth cursed lips, kissing my cheek. The electrocution of fear the stabbed me made me rip from Aaron’s grasp and give a small squeal. 

I covered my face with both of my hands and breathed heavily to calm myself down. The idea that he might have died just then made me squirm and pace.

He punched the sofa armrest, “God, I am so sorry, Noa. That was so stupid of me.” Under his breath he scolded himself, “God… so stupid.”

Reaching for his arm, I reassured him, “No, Aaron, I just can’t.”

Aaron grabbed my arms in return, “Then just give me your company. Stay. Please.”

I shook my head, “I have to go.”

I tried to avoid eye contact with him but his disheartened stare brought me to look into his soul. Deep in his window I saw curtains of fear flourish in his heart. This fear danced on his peace and I saw the small child in him coward from it. This wasn’t a fear over rejection… this was a fear much darker and much more toxic.

I asked, “Is there anything else besides Jonah bothering you?”

He rested his hand on table, using it as a crutch as he gave a large sigh. 

He lied to me, “Nothing is bothering me? Why do you ask?”

I stepped closer to him. I could tell I was just confusing him even farther, “Aaron, you said yourself you haven’t been sleeping. Tell me.”

He gave a hard swallow and played with his belt loop. His eyes darted across the room as if he were scared someone was listening in on us. Sweat pursed from his brow. I begged again for him to just tell me. I could have forced the truth out of him but I wanted him to trust me, I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore just to quench my curiosities.

Staring out the south window he whispered, “I’ve just had the feeling someone is always watching me. That I’m never really alone.”

“How so?”

“Little things. I’ll put my keys down at the edge of the table and when I come back they’ll be in the center. When I throw my clothes in the hamper, leave and come back, all the clothes are back where they were, exactly how they were. And matches. Matches keep appearing in my drawers, my backpack, my pockets. It’s not me. And at first I thought I was just being absent minded. But it’s been happening more lately. I don’t know if this makes any sense.”

I assured him, “No, I get it. Do you think it might be Tori and his friends?” 

Aaron shook his head out of utter uncertainty.

My eye caught sight of the clock: 5:12pm. My mind was torn as to where I should be at this point. Aaron looked exhausted from these ominous occurrences and I felt if I left, I would never forgive myself. 

He begged to me, “Please, just stay a little longer. We don’t have to talk. We can just sit. Watch TV. Read. I don’t care.”

If he only knew he was trusting death to be his protector. If he only knew that I am the one people pray at night to never have to meet. Would he look at me the same way if he knew? That I am life’s final destination, I am life’s outcast. 

I met his tired eyes and nodded, “I’ll stay,” but in my head I knew I couldn’t for too long. Aaron looked as if he hadn’t slept in days though. So I told myself I’d stay till a slumber took control of his fears.

I shuffled my feet along the rug and sunk into the burgundy sofa. Aaron joined me with a toss of the remote to my lap. He continued reading Peter Pan. I pretended I was interested in the box of shadows.

My actions never seemed to match my thoughts as I constantly did what I told myself was wrong. Sitting here, next to him, was wrong. This gave him hope that we’d be something. But truthfully we were far-off from that destination, no matter how fast we’d run to it. No matter how loud we’d call its name. We could never mend the truths we insist on calling lies. 

Aaron kept to his promise and didn’t say a word for two and a half hours. I turned to Aaron, whose eyes were drooping while watching the television. It was 7:30pm and I had to leave. But I didn’t want Aaron to feel abandoned. I got up from my slumped position to sit up straight. 

I turned to Aaron’s grassy eyes and, again, did what I told myself not to do, “Look at me, Aaron. You’re going to go to sleep now. You’re going to rest and you’re going to feel much better in the morning.”

He gave a drunken smile and nodded his head as he murmured a thought that fell from his lips, “Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’”

I sighed and scorned myself for the seeds I had planted into his conscience. My thumb scratched at the ring Aaron had given me. I reread the engraving, “Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore’” An idea I needed to start heading advice from.

I occupied my mind by grabbing a couple blankets from his room and cloaked him under them. Repositioning him on the couch so he wouldn’t feel sore in the morning.

I left to get ready for my evening, to get ready for my evening with the dead. And just hoped… that maybe I would find sanctuary in them instead, so that way I would no longer suck the life out of Aaron.