Reapers.

  Cosmically tied custodians of termination.

  They don’t cause death.

  They complete it.

  Death happens first.

  Reapers arrive after inevitability locks in.

  Reapers operate inside Death.

  They cannot perceive what stands beyond Death.

  They obey Death

  They fear Death.

  Record Eight - Mina

  She woke up choking on air.

  Her vision came back in pieces. Light smearing sideways. Shapes floated instead of staying still.The world swayed, tilting left, the right. Her ears rang, dull and distant, like she was underwater.

  She tried to push herself up and immediately failed, arms trembling as her weight sagged back down.

  Her palms scraped against rough pavement.

  Her head throbbed. Not sharp. Heavy. Thick, like her thoughts were wrapped in cotton.

  “Wh…?”

  The sound barely made it out.

  Nausea rolled up her throat without warning. She barely had time to turn her head before she retched, emptying herself onto the ground in sharp, miserable spasms. It burned. Her eyes watered. She stayed there, breathing hard, saliva dripping from her lip, too weak to wipe it away.

  When it passed, she just sat there on her hands, shoulders slumped, chest rising unevenly.

  What…happened?

  The alley came into focus slowly. Brick walls on either side. Trash bags piled near a dumpster. A flickering streetlight humming overhead. Night. Late.

  Why am I here?

  She looked down at herself, heart starting to beat faster. Her hands shook as she patted her arms, her sides, her legs. No blood. No tears in her clothes. Nothing hurt.

  Nothing felt wrong.

  Her breathing picked up.

  Why am I here.

  Panic crept in quietly at first, like a cold spreading under her skin.

  I was walking.

  I remember walking.

  I remember..

  Nothing.

  Her head spun. Her thoughts tangled, slipping out reach the harder she chased them.

  Why can’t I remember?

  Quiet.

  “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  Her stomach dropped.

  She froze.

  Slowly she turned her head.

  Something was there.

  Bent slightly at the waist, close enough that she hadn’t heard them approach. Close enough that the air felt heavier around them. A dark hood draped over their shape, swallowing their outline, fabric falling where a body should be.

  Where a face should have been…

  There was only darkness.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  Her hands slipped on the ground as she tried to scoot backward, breath coming out in short, panicked gasps. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. Her throat locked up completely.

  The thing tilted its head.

  “You see..”it said, voice slipping into her head instead of her ears.

  “Lord Death was supposed to take you.”

  Her stomach dropped.

  “But then Lord Life saved you.”

  Her breath hitched.

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  “So now…” the thing continued, almost whining, “I don’t know what to do.”

  It leaned closer. The air around her went cold and tight.

  “If I take you, Lord Life might punish me. If I don’t…” a pause, soft and dreadful, “…lord Death might punish me.”

  It bent down until the darkness where its face should’ve been hovered inches from hers.

  “Hey…”

  “What do I do ?”

  Her lungs locked.

  “A.. ah ..”

  She tried to scream. Nothing came out.

  Her body didn’t wait for permission.

  She bolted.

  She scrambled to her feet, nearly falling, legs shaking so badly she almost collapsed again. She didn't think. She just ran. Shoulder clipping the wall as she burst out of the alley.

  Her lungs burned instantly. Her vision swam. She didn’t slow down.

  Run.

  Run.

  Run.

  Her steps were reckless. She almost tripped once. Caught herself on a parked car once. Kept going.

  She didn't know where she was going.

  She just knew where she wasn’t supposed to be.

  Lia.

  The name slammed into her like instinct.

  The building rose in front of her.

  She slammed into the door.

  It didn’t move.

  Key card.

  A breath brushed her ear.

  “ What do I doo?’

  She shrieked.

  She lunged for the buzzer, slamming her palm against it.

  “Li..”

  Footsteps.

  The door opened .

  A tenant, halfway through stepping out.

  She shoved past them, nearly knocking them off balance, bursting into the lobby.

  The elevator doors were closed.

  She smashed the button. Again. Again. Again.

  Nothing.

  Behind her

  “Hey, are you okay?” the woman she’d pushed asked, concern knitting her face.

  “The elevator doesn’t wor…”

  She was already gone.

  The stairs took her two at a time. Three at a time. Her foot slipped once and her knee slammed into a step. Pain flaring bright and hot.

  She didn’t stop.

  Her breath came out in broken sounds now, half-sobs, half-gasps.

  Lia’s floor.

  Her hands hit the railing. She dragged herself around the corner.

  Down the hall.

  Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her ribs.

  Lia’s door.

  Right there.

  She slammed her fist against it.

  Her knock echoed down the hallway, wild and desperate.

  The door opened.

  Lia.

  Her knees gave out and she dropped hard to the floor, hands fisting into Lia’s clothes as she latched onto her waist. Her forehead pressed into Lia’s stomach. Breath coming out in broken, ugly gasps.

  And finally, finally, her body believed that it was safe.

  Morning came softly.

  Light slipped through the curtains, pale and quiet.

  She was half-awake, tangled in blankets. Her body heavy in that dull way that came after panic burned itself out.

  She turned her face.

  Lia was there.

  She watched her for a moment. The way her shoulders were slightly tense. The way her fingers picked up the blanket without realizing it.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Lia blinked.

  “Nothing.” she said too fast.

  She smiled faintly into the pillow.

  “Hmm.”

  She shifted a little, curling her hand under her head.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Mmm.”

  The quiet came back. Comfortable. Like neither of them needed to fill it.

  Her lips twitched.

  “But..” she added, voice light, teasing, “I felt you moving around.”

  Lia stiffened beside her.

  “You wanted to feel me up didn’t yo...”

  Lia shot upright.

  The blanket sliding down her legs.

  “What is wrong with you?” she snapped.

  She laughed softly, low and sleepy.

  Silence.

  Lia’s tone changed.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the police? Or the hospital?” she said, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t even know what happened to you.”

  She stared at the ceiling.

  The alley flashed in her head. The dark. The thing.

  She swallowed.

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine. I don’t feel hurt.”

  “But what if…”

  “I just want to be with you.’

  Lia didn’t respond.

  She turned her head and saw her sitting there, staring at the floor.

  She watched her back, the tension in her shoulders.

  “Ooh,” she teased gently, reaching for normal again.

  “Are you blushing.”

  “I’m not,” Lia said immediately.

  A pillow flew at her face.

  She laughed, muffled.

  “I’m fine,” she added. “Really. Don’t worry. You should start getting ready for the cafe or you’ll be late.”

  “Are you coming? Lia asked.

  She shook her head.

  “No.”

  A pause.

  “I’ll stay here and sniff your….”

  Lia shot up and instantly marched toward the bathroom.

  She grinned into the pillow.

  She listened to the sounds through the door.

  The sounds of water running, drawers opening and closing.

  When Lia came out later, dressed and ready, she had pushed herself up slightly on the bed.

  Their eyes met.

  “Have a great day,’ she said softly.

  “Daarling.”

  Lia didn’t answer.

  She turned, opened the door and stepped out.

  The door closed behind her.

  She lay back down. Stared at the ceiling.

  “Kill me now.”

  She heard Lia murmur from outside the door.

  She quietly moved towards the door.She stood there for a second. Then she leaned closer. Slow. Careful.

  Her eye lined up with the keyhole.

  A tall figure.

  White hair.

  Then Lia jumped up.

  “Hii..!”

  Mina winced affectionately.

  “Where are you going?” Lia blurted out, way too fast.

  “To the cafe.”

  “I’m going there too.”

  She slowly pulled back from the keyhole, her forehead resting against the door. She pressed her knuckles against her lips to stop a laugh from slipping out.

  “Should we.. walk together?”

  She slid down the door and sat there for a second, knees up, listening to their footsteps fade down the hall together.

  Then

  She suddenly stood up, walked three steps, and face planted onto the bed. Full body. The mattress bounced under her.

  She buried her face into the pillow and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

  Something brushed her arm.

  She shrieked and shot upright instantly, heart slamming, breath sharp and fast.

  Her eyes locked onto the blanket.

  A loose thread.

  She stared at it for half-second.

  Then flopped back down.

  And stayed there.

  Time passed.

  She lay on her back staring at the ceiling.

  Then on her side, facing the wall.

  Then curled up, knees to her chest.

  Then sprawled out again.

  Her face blank. Unreadable.

  The room stayed quiet.

  The hours passed. Four of them.

  Sunlight shifted across the wall, inch by inch. Shadows stretched, softened, moved on without her. She stayed there through all of it, breathing, blinking, existing in small adjustments of positions and nothing else.

  Then

  She suddenly sat upright.

  Her eyes wandered the room. Not messy, not pristine. Clothes folded almost neatly. A mug on the desk with a faint ring at the bottom. Books stacked sideways because Lia never put them back properly.

  She squinted.

  “..There must be something you don’t want me to see.”

  A grin tugged at her lips, playful, fake confidence propped up on curiosity and nerves.

  She leaned forward until her upper body tipped off the bed, one arm fishing around underneath.

  “C’mon…secrets, secrets..”

  Her hand bumped into something solid.

  She pulled it out.

  A box.

  “..Oh?”

  She sat back up and opened it.

  A photo album.

  Her breath softened.

  She flipped the first page.

  Kids.

  Too young to be cool. Too young to know how hard life would get.

  Messy hair. Big smiles. Mina crying over something forgotten and Lia, dirty knees, scraped hands, grinning at the camera with one arm thrown around her.

  She laughed softly through her nose.

  Next page.

  Both of them sitting on the floor with a watermelon between them. Lia’s face smeared with juice and seeds stuck to her cheeks. Mina looking at her instead of the camera, half-laughing, half-grossed out.

  She touched the edge of the photo with her thumb.

  Another page.

  Their first day of highschool. Stiff uniforms. Nervous smiles. Lia standing too straight, Mina leaning just a little too close.

  She turned the page.

  The beach.

  Both of them in bright floaters, arms hooked around each other, trying to stay upright while the water stealing their balance. Lia laughing. Mina mid-yell.

  She turned again.

  The cafe.

  The first day.

  The sign crooked. The windows still too clean. Mina and Lia standing out front, tired and proud and terrified.

  She stopped there.

  Her smile softened completely.

  She stared at that photo longer than the rest.

  Then

  In the corner of the photo, behind them, near the window..

  A smudge.

  Dark. Soft-edged.

  She frowned then rubbed at the page with her sleeve.

  The smudge didn’t fade.

  Instead

  It moved.

  It peeled itself off the photo like wet ink lifting from paper. It hung there, half-formed and dripping. Its form sagged and shuddered like it was struggling to stay coherent, its surface rippling.

  It clutched at itself, limbs folding and unfolding, leaking dark residue that evaporated before it hit the bed.

  A sound came out of it. Broken.

  “What do I doo..”

  She dropped the picture and scrambled backward, palms scraping the sheets.

  Her heart slammed.

  It’s not here.

  It’s not here.

  It’s not here.

  Her hand grabbed the first thing it found.

  Lia’s shirt.

  She pulled it to her chest and hugged it, burying her face into the fabric.

  Slowly, her heartbeat eased.

  The silence came back.

  After a full minute, she leaned forward and picked up the picture.

  No smudge.

  Just paper

  Just her and her best friend.

  She smiled, small and fragile, hugged the photo tightly before sliding it back into the album. She closed it carefully and returned the box beneath the bed, exactly where it had been.

  Then she stood.

  She walked into the bathroom and ran a bath, sinking into the warmth like she was washing the night off her skin. When she finished, she pulled on a set of Lia’s clothes.

  She stepped back into the main room.

  She paused at the door.

  Then she opened it.

  And walked out.

  The lock clicked behind her.