[𝐁𝐋] 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

He murdered Richard

Another week passed with the same thought fixed in his mind, never withdrawing from his consciousness as everything seemed to close in around him, strangling him with wails of the departed screeched in his ears; and no matter how much he screamed and sobbed for them to go away, they still popped up on his bedroom walls, tormenting his days and nights.

Inside the dim bathroom, Azrail ignored the humming sound his phone let off, declaring the multiple unread messages coming from Mark and Junia. Staring emotionlessly down at the still water inside of the bathtub, Azrail took off his clothes and dropped himself inside the lukewarm water, engulfing his senseless body. Whether it was day or night outside, Azrail couldn't tell—well, it's not like he ever bothered to find out.

Pulling up the kitchen knife he dumped near the bathtub, Azrail traced his finger lightly around the edges of the honed knife, his image not seeable because of the scarcity of light; but if Azrail were to catch his reflection being mirrored upon the frosty metal of the knife, he was confident that the only thing that he would see was a fading soul; his purpose for surviving even with the deaths he's caused gone.

Letting out a deep exhale, Azrail leaned further down the bathtub until only his face was seeable, cherishing the last bit of warmth the water had to pacify him in his last moments. Death was always by his side, so he figured: Why not submit and go by his side, too?

Moving the kitchen knife towards his heart, Azrail pressed it tenderly on his delicate skin. Not enough pressure to produce a wound, but enough to feel its coolness. Though Azrail was certain he wouldn't be able to remain responsive long enough to tear his heart open as he did with his last patient, he was sure that he could hold on just long enough for it to be split apart. At least that was more poetic than anything he could think of.

With the chill silence of the room subduing his breathing, the coolness of the knife being held at the tip against his sensitive skin, Azrail thought, if he was going down, why not look back upon his life? Like people would do in movies before they were executed?

Yet when he searched back on his life, Azrail became more distressed. All there was to commemorate were the nineteen funerals he had to attend to and the amount of grieving he's done throughout his life. Did he waste his time weeping all those years? No. The best he could do, he thought, was to grieve for the lives he had ended. He viewed this as a way of atoning for what he had done.

Azrail only had two friends—which he had avoided for more than a week—but he never genuinely considered them as his legitimate friends. To him, they were just... there. The purpose of having friends seemed more like a burden than good fortune to him, and so—why misuse time with others when you have others to mourn?

Yes. That was it. His life now was only valuable enough for repenting. Yet he realized he could no longer atone; and so, now he was ending his last life.

Not even sparing a glance at that blaring phone of his, Azrail closed his eyes as his brain did the rest for him.

At that moment, the only thing he could perceive was darkness and the shock, which only lingered for a few seconds. After ten minutes had passed, Azrail's brain ultimately shut down, and now he was finally dead.

After what seemed like an eternity Azrail eventually recovered awareness, his mind wholly functioning as he regarded he was drifting somewhere... or standing? No, he was most definitely standing. The strangest thing that Azrail estimated was that he couldn't tell whether he was floating or standing. To him, it felt like his brain wasn't able to pluck the information around him and notify him of his present plight.