<i>Twenty-one years?<br/>
</i><br/>Cael's words were hardly making any sense to Ciarán. Cael shouldn't have been able to see him. No one was supposed to have the ability to see or interact with him save for those transitioning from alive to dead, shucking the mortal coils that left them shackled to the hell that was human existence. To see him once was preposterous, but to see him time and time again, death after death... How was this possible? As far as Ciarán could tell, Cael was no different from any other human he had ever encouraged, and he had dealt with thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions. The number was uncountable. The faces bled together, the stories of their deaths became insignificant after a millennium. He couldn't recall who Cael's parents were, what their faces looked like, how they had died. But these were things important to humans, and shadows of traumatic memories festered at the edges of Cael's consciousness. Ciarán dipped his fingers into those memories, sifting, searching through like a miner perusing through hunks of worthless sediment to find a nugget of gold.<br/><br/><i>There. </i>The images were stronger now, and he could see flashes, like frames of a film rapidly intercut with one another. A car, twisted around itself, the sound of metal crunching horrifically, of bones snapping. They were blood curdling noises, though they had little effect on Ciarán, nothing more than a macabre soundtrack to his line of work. There were other memories, but Cael couldn't seem to focus on them, thus Ciarán was having trouble pulling them from the human's tormented mind. It was no matter. The ghostly entity stopped digging for a moment, simply listening to Cael's questions. The corners of his lips twitched when Cael asked if he was ugly, something that might have formed into a smile had Ciarán been prone to such jovial expressions.<br/><br/>"Yes, I'm shockingly horrific," he replied, his eyes sparkling as he continued to peer down at Cael. "Rotting flesh hanging off of my skull, an eyeball swinging around, threatening to smack anyone near me whenever I turn my head. If I recall correctly, my mouth is just a gaping hole filled with misery and maggots. I promise you, nothing good awaits you if you look in there." There it was again, that twitch, that hint of a grin. Simply because he was Death, that didn't mean Ciarán didn't have a sense of humor, grotesque though it may be. He often lamented the somber demeanor humans associated with him. Some reapers were like that, sure, the boring and unpleasant ones Ciarán hardly ever received the chance to interact with. Was he required to adopt these melancholy mannerisms as well, simply because it was convenient? He liked to think otherwise.<br/><br/><b><span style="font-size: 22px">TICK. TICK. TICK.</span></b>Ciarán's watch was getting louder, practically screaming at him. He had lingered far too long, but he was finding it difficult to pull himself away, too intrigued by this unusual turn of events. The serious mask enveloped his visage once more, and he shook his head slightly, fingers caressing the stubble on Cael's chin. "What is it you wish for me to tell you? I have no life story to share. I've never been alive, as far as I know." He sighed.<b><span style="font-size: 22px">TICK. TICK. TICK.</span></b><br/><br/>"My name is Ciarán. I do not know where I came from, only that I<i>am</i>. I don't not even know why I have a name, really. I suppose it is to differentiate us from one another. How else would you? In regards to why you cannot see me, I suppose it is because you're not going to die. You were supposed to. In the ambulance. It was written into the stars that your life was to seep out of you before you even reached the doors to the hospital, and yet here you are. I've never seen this before. Never has my knowledge of who is next to go been incorrect. I... I do not know what to do with you, other than leave you to continue. There is nothing I can do for you now."<br/><br/>Ciarán removed his hand from Cael's face, violently severing the connection between them, leaving Ciarán feeling a strange, unfamiliar chill. "I've waited too long. I'm sorry."<br/><br/>The unseen man with the dark hair, deep set green eyes and rough, stubbled face disappeared, his essence fading away, twirling like smoke upward toward the offensively white ceiling.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fimage.ibb.co%2FduBGt6%2Fpageline.png&amp;hash=97fa13339d5143cfda6fe072d0dfd5c2" title="pageline.png">
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</div></div><br/>Seventy-five miles away from the hospital where Cael was being held, a fifty-seven year old woman lay on the ground in Norrie Park, knees sore from where she had crumpled onto the cement pathway next to the small lake. The air was crisp and the wind shuffled through the trees, rousing the fall leaves while the ducks quacked happily in the water. Manicured nails clutched at her chest, tearing at the fleece coat she had wrapped around herself in an attempt to ease her breathing, but it wasn't helping, and she struggled to keep herself erect as the pain spread from her chest throughout her upper body. She collapsed, fingers twitching incessantly until finally, after what seemed like years of suffering, a soothing voice graced her frozen ears.<br/><br/>"Come with me, Nanette. I have some place to take you."