I cooed at the old man, caressing his cheek. He was struggling for breath, but he was out of it. This is the worst part.

"It'll be over soon," I whisper, smoothing down his gray hair and placing my hand over his heart.

He stared at me with horror and shock. When people meet death, they don't expect to be actually meeting Death. But that's who I am, that's all I'll ever be. No matter how many times I try to escape that fact.

My throat burns as I begin to hum a tune. Around my hand that is still placed on his heart, images of his life begin to float around. Good and bad. Tragic and hopeful. It's the least I can do, after all. Giving them a last chance to see life.

"Death is unspoken, but can repair the broken," I sing quietly, my voice barely audible.

All the memories of the old man disappear instantly. He croaks something but I cannot hear it. Feeling guilty in my stone heart, I take off my hood to my cloak, revealing my face. He reaches up and grabs the end of my hair, that is pulled into a braid and rests over my shoulder. As he touches it, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Tears threaten, but I don't dare let them fall. The worst part about death is witnessing it. No. The worst part is being it. My eyes open.

I gently take his hand, resting it on his abdomen, taking the other and placing it on top. My hand touches his forehead, sliding down and shutting his eyes.

I decide to let him be in peace, let his wife or children find him the next morning. My work is done, I shouldn't have to carry the weight of others. I did what I had to do, and now I leave.

Taking one last look at the man, I put my hood back on, jumping out the window. Another innocent soul gone, isn't my job fabulous?

I was flying. Through time, through space. My body was so cold, so rigid. It scared me, beyond belief. My perfect world was shattered, and it can't be fixed.

I was cold. I was shallow and frozen. My heart, so cold, so lonely. My soul, broken. The Spirit of Death had been broken, and I just want to be fixed. Wanted to be save. Wanted to . . . feel something.

After spending centuries of witnessing people on the death beds, feeling them take their last breath, I was tired. Tired not only of seeing people die, or being alone, just of everything.

Alas, I live forever. So never once can I sleep. Death is too important to delay. People don't understand the importance of dying. Without death, the mortals won't survive.

While walking away from the old man's house, I instantly appear in Burgess, still walking. I liked it there. There was always that feeling of coldness, all year round. Even in the summer. It kind of reminded me of myself. My feet drag me to an isolated part of the woods.

There laid an abandon house. The boards are cracked, windows are broken. The roof had holds and the stairs in side are fragile. I learned that the hard way. I drag myself up the stairs, into a room that has all four walls and no windows.

Huddled in a corner, I bring my knees to my chest, awaiting the next life to which I'll have to end. Dying, I have discovered, isn't as easy as it seems.

(A/N) This is my first fanfic, so please, No hate. I don't know whether I should continue or not, so….

Until next time! (Maybe)

-Julissa