I stood over the girl. She was lying on the ground before me. I had watched her for the last ten years, and she never knew. Never knew that I was the shadow she had seen in the night, that I was the one who took her sister gently by the hand and lead her away forever. Now I would take her too. I ignored my surroundings-the smoke, the screaming, the blood-I ignored them all and continued at my task. I had to be quick, I would have a much larger workload to deal with soon. Too soon. Don't you think for one moment that I relish what I do, but it has to be done and no one else will do it. I reached down and took her hand, I watched the recognition flash in her eyes, I watched her take that deep and unforgettable breath, I watched her with that strange curiosity I had been watching her with since she was ten years old. I watched Adelaide one last time.
As I have said, I first met Adelaide when she was but ten years old. It was in the winter of 1822 and her sister Marie was ill. I was very busy that winter; actually I am busy most winters but that is beside the point... Anyway, Marie was very sick as were most of the people in slums of Paris that year. It would always start the same, one day you felt tired, the next your throat would ache, then a cough, then before you knew it you would meet me. This process was no different for Marie and since there was no way her widowed mother could get proper treatment for her ailment I had to pay her a visit.
I remember that night very well. Adelaide sat by her sister's bedside (which consisted of a mat on the floor and some threadbare blankets) while Marie lay wheezing and coughing. Marie was but thirteen years old and her face that I imagined was once merry and full was now thin and pale. Her skin was drawn and her eyes sunken. Adelaide stared at her, her eyes were brimming with tears. She knew. She knew. She knew full well she was saying goodbye.
I hate it when family members are near when I do my work, it always makes it that much harder. I always have to remind myself that this is my job, a duty I was entrusted with because I could handle it. Sometimes I honestly believe that I can handle it, as long as I don't get too attached to those involved. I never stay, I always complete my task and leave. I don't like it when family members are there because I don't want to know anything about them; I don't want to be drawn into their lives or their stories. To put it simply, until I have to take them I avoid them. Except this time. This time I let myself get involved. This time I let myself get sucked in. I shouldn't have, and I knew it, but I did it anyways.
Marie's breathing became rapid and shallow. I moved in. Adelaide felt me, she could feel my presence. Some say my presence is cold and icy, while others say it is warm and calm. I guess that all depends on where I am taking you. But I digress, I took Marie's small hand into my own. She came to me easily. I went to leave with Marie, but then I stopped. I turned and looked back (my first mistake) and looked at Adelaide. She sat there, tears sliding down her cheeks; but she wasn't distressed, she wasn't hysterical or exhibiting any of the other behavior human's show when they lose someone. I sat in front of her and watched. She touched her sister's forehead, then gently slid her sister's eyelids shut. She was ten years old, a child, and yet she was calm. I left her alone. I shouldn't have gone back to see her. But I did...