Dear Death

Chapter 2 - Atlas

Dear Death,
My Love is gone, my sole light vanquished eternally.
Let me die so I can gaze upon her smile.
Atlas Grey

This project was stupid. I didn't need someone to talk to, that's what my therapist, Dr Taylor was for and I don't talk to her at all.

There's probably some perverted psycho on the other end of my letters, reading one word.

But really, I am insane so it doesn't matter.

But They where not helping.

She's gone, and it's all your fault.
When I say 'Your' you say 'Fault'

Your Fault!
Your Fault!
Your Fault!

She's dead! Died! CRUSHED! SMASHED! BURIED!

You didn't deserve an angel like Her, did you, Demon?
God knows that, why do you think she went to Heaven?

And you'll go to Hell!

The migrain was intense, my hands gripping my temples.
Atlas Grey. The Reaper. Kneeling on the ground and crying because of a fucking headache.

Father would have laughed, She would have hugged me, kissed me, stayed with me till the voices stopped.

She's dead.

Tears flooded from my eyes, cascading down my cheeks, and falling from my jawline to the floor.

"Psycho! Your letters arrived!"
God these fucking guards are assholes.

He has a punchable face, why not punch the bastard?

Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! DO IT!

Breathing exercises, Taylor said something about breathing exercises. Was it that I hold my breathe? No, no in for 10 seconds, hold for 7? 10, hold for 10, out for 5.

In, hold, out
In, hold, out
In, hold,o-

"I'm talking to you shithead!"
Loosing his patience, the donut looking guard unnecessarily throws the letter into my room, then turned and left.

His parting words where heartwarming. A mumbled goodbye.

"Fucking psycho bastard."

This mental hospital isn't bad, the last one had more funding though. The place is nice, comfy mattresses, thick, heavy, insulated blankets, friendly therapists, and these fucking bastards called guards.

They're only here because my 'criminal record' and the demon in my head seem to make me 'aggressively psychotic' or clinically insane as the Judge put it.

Hello? We have a letter to read? Dumb human?

Why are you referring to me as a 'dumb human'?

Well you aren't smart, so you could either be a dumb retarded asshole or a stupid fucking bastard, take your pick.

How about fuck you?

Where and when, darling.

I'm starting to believe that you're the insane fucker here.

Well I'll agree to disagree, on that, because that's a lie.

No. It's the truth, agree, shithead.

No. There is only one thing we agree on.
That Ophelia Aedlin Carmichael, the love of our life, the most beautiful woman in the world, God's gift to humanity, fell in love with the Reaper. And now, she's dead!