That's right people, I have a death wish. But you guys like my stories so it's a win-win right? Anyway here's the summary:

Marilyn Stanford is an orphaned girl, alone on the streets of London. Her past is a gruesome one, from watching her mother die in front of her, to trying to survive the harsh streets since she was ten. Grell Sutcliff is a reaper, assigned a girl who resembles his former lover, Madame Red. He saves her and takes her home, only to find out she has no idea who he is-and absolutely hates reapers. And to make matters worse, she is a target for another reaper. But who is it-and why does he want to kill her? (GrellxMadame Red)

Chapter 1:

Marilyn Stanford crept through a silent house in the dead of night, the floor silently creaking beneath her feet. Finding the room she was looking for, she slowly opened the door and snuck through.

She was in her mother's room.

Smiling to herself, she walked over to where the sleeping lump laid. The lump turned over to reveal a beautiful woman.

Marilyn examined her mother's face. Her auburn hair carefully framed her face, which was illuminated by the moonlight from the window. Her mouth was gently upturned in a peaceful smile, something Marilyn always admired about her mother. Her nostrils flared with every soft breath she took.

Not really wanting to disturb her mother's slumber, she softly whispered, "Mom?"

No answer.

Becoming braver, she spoke louder. "Mom?"

"Nnm?" Her mother muttered. She opened her eyes and saw her daughter standing before her.

Smiling, she asked, "What's wrong, Lyn?"

"I couldn't sleep." she admitted.

Her mother chuckled softly. "Wanna sleep with me tonight?" Marilyn nodded. Sitting up, her mother scooted over enough to let Marilyn's petite body in.

Sighing, Marilyn curled up to her mother and was soon fast asleep.

Her mother started to gently run her finger's through her daughter's thick, red hair.

Marilyn's red hair was an odd occurrence. None of her family members ever had red hair, and neither did her dead father's family. Either way, her red hair fit her perfectly.

She soon fell asleep, her fingers tangled in her daughter's hair.

Meanwhile, several men gathered at the back entrance of the Stanford household.

"We are almost ready to infiltrate the place," one spoke into a phone.

"Excellent. Make sure nobody sees you. And don't forget, we need the girl to be disposed of." a voice on the other side of the phone replied. "Don't fail me, boys."

"Yes sir." they all answered simultaneously.

He hung up, leaving the men to their work.

One of the men held a gun, a silencer attached to it.

They nodded at each other, and they gently opened the door.

No alarms were sounded.

They continued in the house, searching for the little girl who lived there.

Mariln's mother sleepily walked into the bathroom, yawning. After relieving her self, she left the bathroom.

Bumping into one of the men.

Before she could scream, a gag was forced over her mouth, and a gun to her head.

"You must be her mother. Where is the girl?" he snarled, jabbing the gun into her cheek.

She shook her head, refusing to say anything.

Marilyn woke up to find it still dark and her mother not next to her. She jumped up and exited the room. Before she turned the corner, she heard men talking.

She carefully peeked around the corner to see her mother on her knees, a cloth over her mouth.

They locked eyes and her mother's eyes widened.

Marilyn was both confused and scared. What was going on? Who were these men?

"Go search for the kid." one told the other. He nodded and headed to the corner Marilyn was hiding behind.

Frightened she dashed down the hall, not caring if anyone heard her. She knew these men were bad and intended to hurt her.

"She's running down the hall!" he yelled.

Both men immediately let go of her mother to try to catch her.

"RUN LYN RUN!" she screamed.

Marilyn heard her mother's demand and had a sudden burst of speed.

She had the advantage of knowing the three story house like the back of her hand. If she could just get around the corner, she would be able to see her mom.

She turned the corner and stopped in her tracks. Her mother had a gun held to her head by one of the men.

"You can come quietly so we can dispose of you, or both you and your mom die."

Marilyn started to cry, knowing either way, she was going to die.

"Lyn, don't. I'll be fine. You know what to do." They locked eyes and Marilyn understood.

Her mother wanted her to run.

Her body reacted faster than her mind, and she ended up running into the arms of one of them.

"Got her!" he said triumphantly. "Kill her first then we can have our fun with the girl."

"But didn't he say to kill her?" one of the others asked.

"Yeah, but he didn't say we couldn't have a little fun."

They laughed evilly.

Marilyn's mother butted her head with her captor. Startled, he pulled the trigger.

"MOMMY!" she cried. Her mother's body fell lifeless to the floor.

A bust of anger swelled in her and she twisted herself around to face him. She was short, but was tall enough to ram her knee inbetween her captor's legs. He howled and let her go as he fell to the floor.

Not wasting any time, she sprinted to the stairs with all her might. She sat on the stair rail and slid down as the two men took the stairs.

She reached the bottom long before they did, and ran to the door. She threw it open and ran out into the still night.

As the men ran out the door, they searched the area, not knowing Marilyn had climbed up the pipe and was hiding on the uppermost part of the roof.

Her chest heaving, she watched as the men searched the bushed and the trees, gun's at ready.

"Man, I knew we should've killed the brat when we had the chance." one said to his comrade. The third limped out of the house, clutching his crotch.

"That's some leg she's got." he said venomously.

"If I ever see the brat again, I will make sure she dies a slow, painful death." the last said.

Eventually, they gave up and piled into a black Mercedes. She watched them drive off and sat there, the night silent once again.

Throwing her head back, Marilyn let out a long sad cry. Some of the neighborhood dogs joined in the sad song. But she didn't care. She was alone, with pictures of her dead mother on the floor.

Eight Years later..

Marilyn's POV

"Get back here, boy!" a man yelled from a corner stall. I ignored him and dodged a few people to get away from him.

I had stolen my lunch for the day; a red apple and a peach, from one of the street carts.

A policeman stood in front of me with a gun in his hands.

I rolled my eyes. This man never learns, not even after the hundredth time. I quickly turned the corner, just as he tried to shoot me.

He missed by several inches. I laughed at him, and continued to run. The same thing has happened everyday for the past eight years.

Ever since that night, I had to depend on myself. I was eating out of trashcans, and whatever nice people would hand out. I was turned into the orphanage, but every time, I was able to escape.

Eventually I met this nice boy, who showed me how to steal without being noticed.

Thing was, I wanted to be noticed sometimes. Figured I needed the exercise.

And why he called me a boy? Well, I didn't want anyone to know I was a girl, so I stole a few boys clothes, cut my hair and I was able to pass off as a boy. As long as it wasn't tight, nobody could tell I was a girl. And I want to keep it that way.

Anyway, after losing the police man, I sat behind a dumpster and ate my lunch. The apple was sweet, but was bruised in many places from bouncing around in my pocket along with the peach, which was also bruised quite a bit.

Nonetheless, I couldn't afford to be picky.

I also didn't want to steal, but nobody would hire a rag doll like me. The only thing I was capable of was stealing, running, and escaping.

I sat back against the dumpster, thinking about my life. It wasn't so bad, but nothing I would recommend to anyone.

Sighing, I stood up and looked around. Couldn't be too careful.

I strolled down the alley, picking up some loose change on the way.

I've found many things in these alleys, from shoes, to change, to clothes. It's amazing how people lose these kinds of things.

Eventually I reached the end of the ally. I looked around once more, then shimmied up the pipe. Up there I had a small pillow, a raggedy blanket, and some antiques I collected in trashcans laying on the roof.

The pillow was a faded yellow with multiple patches colored multiple colors.

The blanket was long, and a dark blue. It had a bird stitched into it's design with golden thread. It was a blue jay, and it was beautiful. I couldn't imagine why anyone would throw it away.

Some of the antiques were a few broken snow globes, an old pair of gloves, and a broken picture frame of a family.

I laid on the blanket and watched the clouds pass. I wasn't worried of anybody seeing me, since it was an abandoned building. I heard it used to be a church that gave food to the poor and homeless. They went out of business because they did a little to much giving than they were receiving.

I must've fallen asleep, because it was dark when I woke up.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The streetlights were on, illuminating the cars as they drove by.

An occasional honking could be heard in the distance, along with the yelling of mom's to their kids.

I stood up and walked to the edge of the building.

I jumped, landing safely on the ground. That was another trick the boy taught me. He was about my age, ready to enter adulthood. Before he did, though, he helped my to survive, and for that I am grateful. He was the only person I ever trusted, and felt I could depend on.

I walked under one of the streetlights, taking notice of the mysterious man on the opposite corner of me.

I pressed the button for the crosswalk and kept a steady eye on them.

I crossed the street and walked the sidewalk into an alley between the most popular fast-food places in town.

I looked behind me to make sure he wasn't following me. I sighed in relief. He was gone.

I opened the lid to the trash can and was greeted by the aroma of disregarded food.

I pulled out a box of a half-eaten burger and a case of fries. I rummaged around and found a water bottle, filled halfway up with water. I took my dinner to the corner and was greeted by the man.

"Hello, little girl." he said. I tried to see his face, but couldn't see beneath his large, dark trench coat.

I gulped silently.

"Hello, Mister. May I help you?" I asked.

"Yeah. You could've dropped dead eight years ago," he said, backing me up against the wall.

That voice...where have I heard it before?

"Remember what I said that night? I swore that I would kill you. And make you die a slow, painful death. "

I gasped as flashback washed over me violently.

"Too bad the others aren't here. Boss wasn't too happy that you escaped. He killed them. I managed to escape, but with these." he ripped the coat off, revealing a face full of scars and wounds.

"Now I finally get my revenge. Not just for me, but for Frankie and Danny as well." he raised his fist and slammed it into my face. I cried out in pain and dropped my dinner. I fell to the ground, my hands holding my face. I could already feel the blood dripping through my fingers.

But he didn't stop there. No, he kicked me in my gut, hard enough to make me throw up. It burned my throat as it came up, and I laid on my side, weak.

"If you thought it was over, you are wrong. I said SLOW and PAINFUL." he said.

I cried out as he dug his fingers into my arm and dragged me up. He threw me against the wall, and my head felt like it would explode.

I fell to the ground, sobbing.

"Please, just... just kill me." I pleaded.

He laughed darkly. "I don't think so."

He pulled out something from his pocket. It was a stick. He clicked a button and it grew.

Into a fireman's axe.

"You see, I am a Grim Reaper. A Death God. I chose how you die." he kicked me again.

"A Grim Reaper doesn't make their assignments suffer." a voice said. If I wasn't in so much pain, I would have snapped my head in the direction of the voice. I forced my eyes look in that direction.

It was a man in red, with long, red hair. He had something big and bulky strapped to his back.

"Ha. What's an old man like you doing out here?" he taunted.

The man's eyes narrowed. "If you must know, I am no ordinary human. I am too a reaper. I am Grell Sutcliff." he said.

"So?" he asked. "This is my assignment and she has wronged me before, so I'm simply going to get my revenge and-"

"You see, that's where you are wrong Mr. Issac." he pulled out a book and adjusted his glasses. "It says here that Marilyn Stanford was assigned to moi."

The other scoffed. "Well I'll be glad to take this one off your hands." he kicked in my head to prove his point. I cried out in pain again.

Grell glowered. "You shouldn't mess with the next best reaper, rookie." he said.

"What are you going to do?" he asked sarcastically.

"I'm warning you Issac. Leave here now, or I will have to kill you. I won't be prosecuted for it, because as you should know, a reaper who attempts to steal another's assignment is considered a rogue, therefore it isn't illegal to ill them." he said.

"Please. An old man like you is no match for me." He swung his axe.

"I didn't want to do this," he said reaching behind him."Oh wait, yes I did." he laughed and pulled out a chainsaw. With a pull of a string, it roared to life.

Issac dropped his axe. I thought I saw a puddle form underneath him. Then again, it could've been my blood and tears.

Grell smiled, showing two rows of white, pointy teeth.

"You see, Issac, you should know better than to mess with me." and with that, he jumped and shoved the chainsaw into the other.

Blood spattered everywhere, and Issac fell dead to the floor.

Grell put down his chainsaw and knelt down to examine me.

"You look a lot like someone I used to know." he said, running his hand through my hair.

I would've slapped his hand away, but I was too weak. I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness.

I had to admit, he looked familiar, but I am perfectly sure I never met him before.

"Marilyn? It sounds like Madame Red." he said.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to die.

I'm coming home Mom...