Next and final chapter.
Tiny hands pressed against a window pane. The little girl's reflection showed a dirty but smiling face, eyes shimmering at the beautiful blue dress in the shop. Something her mother would never be able to afford judging by the well worn white shift the little girl wore.
...
A ruler slapped her knuckles when the young girl kept looking outside. Instead of playing outside, she had to take lessons. Learn things like reading and basic numbers. Things that would set her apart from the other women in town. The young girl had to keep her posture straight in the uncomfortable wooden chair. Her mother was determined that she'd be raised a proper lady to win a proper husband.
...
The party was very important. Everyone was dressed in fine, colorful gowns, and the young lady was being twirled in a graceful waltz. The handsome man was whispering sweet words in her ear, bringing a blush to her cheeks.
...
The handsome man kissed the young woman's hand, complimenting her on the blue dress he had gifted to her. She was in love.
...
Their wedding was beautiful. The beautiful woman was kissing her new husband. She was sad, because her mother wasn't there to see her dream become a reality. To see her beloved daughter marry a well off man that treated her well. I think that was the last time the beautiful woman was truly happy.
...
Shouts brought tears to the saddened woman's eyes. Curled on the floor with a bleeding lip, she begged her angered husband for forgiveness. Several years they were together, and still she had not borne him a child. It was the first time he had hit me. The man grabbed his wife and tore away her dress. He ignored her cries and sheathed himself into her. It wasn't the last time he forced himself on me.
...
Hands gripped her breasts and painfully kneaded the already bruising flesh. His liquored breath blistered against her skin, and she flinched away from the bitter scent only to receive a slap for her insolence that cracked her head to the side. Darkness had consumed her, but this time I could see him, could remember the feel of dull teeth biting into the supple swell of my bosom. He sucked a pert nipple to make it burn red, then gnawed on it with his yellowed teeth until blood flowed instead of milk.
My nails clawed against my chest, desperate to rid myself of the feeling of his touch. I scratched and scratched until the images faded away and left only darkness in their place.
It was only after I opened my eyes that my senses returned to me. That I realized my voice was hoarse from screaming. That I could look down and see blurry rivulets of blood staining a flat chest that was otherwise unmarred. My eyes shut to give my fuzzy vision a chance to clear up.
The stinging pain amplified when I pressed my hands to where my breasts should have been. The area wasn't sensitive and didn't show any evidence to cutting off my breasts, except that they were no longer there. No divots in the flesh or scarring raised against my fingers. Blood smeared against pale skin as I ran my fingers down to the solid abdominals. There was no sign of the stab wound.
Sores and pains I had long become accustomed to didn't ache as I sat up from the uncomfortable cot I was lying on. When my eyes opened, everything was still blurred, but I could recognize that I was in a white room with a brown smudge on the opposite side which I assumed was a door.
Something fluttered past my vision, and I grabbed it. It squirmed in my grasp when I held it close to my face. I had to squint to make out the images on the film reel. Even though they were stained by the sticky blood on my hands, each picture showed a moment in time from the life that I had just watched.
"Please don't touch your cinematic record." The sudden voice shocked me as did the film strip ripping itself out of my hand. Next to the door was a black blob holding a bright light that the flying, curling images of my past flew towards. "Now then, Mr. Grover, my name is Alexander Roberts," he continued, "and I need to discuss some things with you."
"Mister?" I asked, brow wrinkling in confusion. Alexander stepped closer and set a pile of dark clothes next to me.
"I must ask that you get dressed before we go any further."
"You called me mister," I persisted, refusing to let it go. Although I couldn't see his expressions very well, part of me was saying that he rolled his eyes.
"There's no need to be concerned. A form has been submitted to correct this egregious clerical error in your file."
"But I'm not," I started, my hand unconsciously drifting down between my thighs. Fingers brushed against a sensitive length of flesh that stole the breath from me. As I started to scream, Alexander rushed in front of me. He grabbed something from the pile he had given me and shoved a pair of glasses onto my face. Everything shocked into clarity so I no longer had to squint.
Chartreuse eyes stared at me, the inhuman phosphorescent light captivating me despite the angry set of them.
"You were not male?" he questioned, managing to sound harsh despite his relatively monotone voice.
"Certainly not!"
"Well that is a problem." Alexander wrote a note in the black binder he had under his arm. "Not to worry, though." I sighed in relief and absentmindedly wiped my hands clean on my legs, only realizing after that all I did was smear drying blood along my thighs. My heart beat within my throat when he added, "It'll take a lot of paperwork, but it shouldn't be too difficult to corrected your file."
"What about fixing the actual problem?" I yelled.
"Oh, there's nothing we can do about that," he replied calmly.
"So I'm stuck like this?" I gestured at my new, admittedly attractive, body furiously.
"On to more important matters. We must discuss your new responsibilities as a Reaper, but first get dressed." On reflex, I crossed my arms over my chest to protect my modesty, even though it was no longer necessary. On my feet, I leaned to grab the pair of black trousers from the pile, growing irritated when my new glasses kept sliding to the end of my nose.
"Why do I need these? What happened to my eyes?" So much information was trying to process within my mind, that the issue of my eyesight seemed almost inconsequential
"It's normal for Reapers to have vision problems, Mr. Grover."
"Sutcliffe."
"Beg pardon?"
My body felt unbalanced while I pulled on the black trousers. When they were buttoned and sitting properly about my waist, I gave Alexander a fierce stare.
"My name. I insist you refer to me as Grell Sutcliffe." It was my maiden name. He hummed thoughtfully and wrote a note down within his binder, muttering about an additional form he'd have to submit just for me.
The scratches clawed down my chest seemed to have stopped bleeding, and the blood that had already congealed along the cuts seemed to have dried, so I figured it wasn't a problem to pull on the white button up shirt. The tie was simple, as I would often knot it for my husband, and the black jacket easily slid up over my shoulders.
"Now tell me about Reapers."
I have no more words.
I just really wanted this out of my to-be-written folder.
