Twenty-eight years of chemotherapy stripped the light from my eyes, leaving me with a personality a pitiful shell of what it once was. The omen of death emanated from me, driving away family and friends. I didn't talk to people. I couldn't relate to their casual complaints and shallow ambitions. Cancer took its toll on my health, but what I figured would kill me in the end wouldn't be my failing body, but my empty soul.
The happiest day of my life was when the Grim Reaper was forced to distribute the Mark of Death to those whose days were numbered.
My flesh was grey and sallow, but only that -- I didn't have the mark.
And from that day on, I truly lived.
I made a life for myself; I fell in love, reconnected with the family I pushed away, and was expecting a baby girl I already adored from the depths of my heart.
While others were hunted down by worshippers of the Reaper invading their way into households to do the devil's deed, my family was left in solace.
...Which brings me to today.
***
The smell of burning rubber filled the air as Callum's car screeched to a stop. "Nina, are you okay? Are you in pain? We're here. Hurry hurry hurry. It'll all be okay. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is perfect," he said, tenderly taking my face into his right hand, the left unbuckling my seat belt.
I gave Callum a weak smile then screamed at him to take me to the doctor. Sweating profusely and swearing profusely, it took everything in my power to not pass out during each paralyzing contraction. I was taken into the operating room and told to push, drifting in and out of consciousness...
***
Gentle coughing and a piercing cry filled the room. Tears flooded my eyes as I took her small body into my weak arms. Callum was beaming and I could have sworn I saw tears well up in his eyes too.
I directed my attention back to the bundle of love I embraced. She was beautiful; her eyes were bright with wonder and hands thrummed with a vitality I never had.
I heard a gasp and mumbling in the corner of the room. A shadow fell over me as Callum reached over and took our baby from my arms. He sighed and moistened his lips which were pulled into a sneer, disgust clouding his eyes. With an audible CRACK, he snapped her neck in two, tossing her to the floor.
I let out a shriek of pure terror and pushed myself off the operating table. Crumpling to the ground, I saw my baby fall in front of me.
Sobs wracked my chest as I stretched my trembling fingers towards her. My hand froze.
It was there; a streak of tar tearing through her translucent skin.
The Mark of Death.
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