|Dead Heart| Reaper x Reader

Chapter Thirteen - Heart

Reaper stared at the shuddering, weak form in the corner of the ring, their back heaving as sickly ooze was expelled from them.  A truly pathetic image.

Their glazed over eyes met Reapers for just a moment, before quickly retreating to their own place, another wave of nausea over taking them.

The black clad man stood in utter disbelief.  Was that weak, crumpled woman really the catch he met all those months ago?  Really the woman who mercilessly beat the shit out of the man he was obligated to look after?

Reaper couldn't ward off the slight tremble of his mind.  He'd always been strong, always been resilient to whatever was thrown his way.  But he'd never seen such a 180 personality change in someone, not this fast, not this drastic.

He mindlessly spoke into his ear piece, saying the classic protocol for this situation, his voice hazy, almost weak.  On any other day, any other hour, even, he wouldn't of reacted this way.  But for some reason, no, some stupid reason, that pathetic little body reminded him of someone he wouldn't bother to name, someone he couldn't name.

The wraith definitely didn't feel remorse for the girl, but he did feel partly responsible, for some kind of twisted, fucked up reason.  He didn't know exactly why he felt guilty, maybe it was because his very existence opened her up to the horrible world of war, or the fact he left her just when he was growing attached.

Clenching his fist and jaw, he snarled when a group of nurses rushed in, quickly skidding to the floor, careful of the mans head, afraid he had a concussion.  Reaper winced at the display, noting the bruises already forming over his face, and the blood seeping from his nose, and mouth.

Walking over to the girls weak form, he reached out a single, cool claw to her back, before quickly pulling it to his side, unsure on what to do.  He couldn't try to repair what they, "had" before.  He refused to lull her into a false sense of security, and safety.  Instead, he'd decided to do it his way.

. . .

A harsh shove nearly knocked you off of your shaking legs beneath you.  Holding back yet another flood of nausea, you stood, breath hitching in your throat as your entire body shivered, eyes watery and glued to the floor.

You knew that you nearly knocked out the man just a few feet away from you, and by the looks of it, the nurses were even checking if you gave him a fucking concussion.  His face looked like he'd been mauled by a dog, and it took everything in you to not burst into a sob at the sight.

With wavering eyes, you looked up to the man who pushed you, the familiar mask staring straight back.  Pushing back tears, you wiped your mouth of bile with a spare bandanna, eyes snapping back to his once you finished, both terrified, and curious as to what they would do with you.

"Follow me." Reaper demanded, every word dripping with venom and empty emotion.

You flinched, before giving him a low nod, slowly trailing him out of the ring, and to wherever he was currently taking you.  Your entire body shook with a fear you didn't know you possessed, for a very obvious set of reasons, the man before you absolutely terrified you.  Whether it was from his personality, or the threat of upcoming pain didn't matter, all you knew was that you deeply regretted everything that led up to this point.

It was funny, really.  The girl who had just beaten the soul out of a man twice her size was ruthlessly shaking as she followed a horrifying man like a dog on a chain.  You would've laughed out of irony if you were simply watching this event unfold, but it was real, and the occasional glance from the man with an unfazed, cold, and bloody stare nearly made you wither in that harsh reality.