Mr. Mortality & the Heart Collector

Part 5: The Grim Reaper's Assistant

Sink back into those depths of despair.

Only, differently, this time.

As Michael descended the stairs of the haunted house, his fear and sorrow abated and were replaced with soreness in his spine and limbs. He had fallen hard on his back earlier, yet in the fog of guilt and panic, the pain had been overpowered by sheer necessity.

Now the boy chose to ignore it.

Stiff upper lip and all.

In his hand, he still grasped his father's rosary beads. The crucifix had turned black after its brush with the ghost, like wood having passed through a flame.

Had circumstances been different,Michael would have mourned the heirloom's disfigurement; as it stood,however, it seemed his father had left him something much more important to be concerned with.

Reaching the foot of the second flight of stairs, Michael set his feet apart and did his best to prepare his mind for what he was about to do—and pray that it was the right thing.

Then, closing his eyes, he once more allowed the memories of his doubts and terrors to begin to trickle in. Already he felt winter filling his chest.

But this time, in addition to the pain he knew so well, he added stoutly in his heart (and also under his breath, because you can never be too sure), "I know what it's like. Ye're nae alone here anymore. I've got a broken heart too."

Then he waited and listened.

And his patience was rewarded. Ina whisper.

"I'm sorry."

Then a whimper.

"I'm sorry."

At last sob.

"I'm sorry!"

Somewhere in the house, a young woman began to weep. Or perhaps, she continued weeping. Eyes may dry,but Michael wasn't sure yet broken hearts ever truly stopped bleeding.

Ah well, he'd have time to think on that later. For now, eyes still clasped shut, hand stretched ahead, he followed the sound.

He followed the sound downstairs.Across rooms. Into furniture. All the while the woman's sobs grew more and more audible.

In the back of his mind he remembered all the reasons he had to be afraid, but rather than allowing it to carry him away, he chose to let himself be carried forward by the bond he shared with this stranger.

This, of course, lead him face-first into another wall.

Opening his eyes, Michael found himself in the kitchen on the lowest floor in the house.

This surprised him, as he thought he'd already given this place a good once-over. Then again, he had been a bit distracted at the time...

Rubbing his sore-again nose with resolve (and returning the rosary to the safety of his pocket), he set out once more to open every cupboard and sweep every corner. The sobbing continued, albeit more softly to his divided attention.

At last, he stood in the middle of the room perplexed.

He was certain this was where he needed to be. But where would he find what he was looking for?

If only he still had the Reaper here; perhaps he needed only to reach through a wall...

Wait.