I, Death

Sin Eater: Chapter 2

Peter O’Mallick closed his eyes in a reflexive gesture, but he knew the damage had already been done. He had looked directly into the eyes of another man — something he hadn’t done for nearly six months — and that man had died.

Instantly.

The rumbling pain that had been a constant background noise in his head increased dramatically, washing across his conscious mind. Only, it wasn’t like before. Peter crumbled to the alley floor, his throat starting to issue forth a heavy stream of giggles as he fell. On his hands and knees, his body hitched as if he was vomiting and he let the laughter flow out of him in huge uncontrollable waves as he thought about what had just happened.

Before, with the other ones, each death seemed to have some sort of natural cause or naturally occurring accident. Like Uncle Bob’s heart attack, or Jagdish’s alcohol poisoning.

Sure, Uncle Bob’s heart attack occurred suddenly and without warning. Unlike most of the others, it seemed to happen immediately. Peter had taken it for a sign that his death curse was growing in strength, like a cancer inside, taking over, growing more powerful and altering him further.

But this latest victim was dramatically different.

The side of the man’s head had exploded outward.

Had the power he was harnessing within grown that much in the intervening months? Or could this be a side-effect of the fact he had been keeping his death curse in check all these months — like the contents of a soda can being opened under intense pressure?

When the uncontrollable bout of laughter stopped, Peter noticed a large droplet of fresh blood on the pavement. He brought his hand to his top lip and felt the thick line of blood that had leaked from his nostril. Then he touched his nose.

Nothing hurt. In fact, the massive migraine he’d been walking around with was gone. And despite the fact he hadn’t eaten a single scrap of food since the day before, he felt a newly acquired sense of energy.

He got to his feet, moving more quickly than he’d been able to for weeks.

Reflexively squinting his eyes, he moved along the alley and carefully made his way to the door. That is what he had been originally doing in the alley, after all. Peter had often found that during the day restaurants and bars kept their back doors either unlocked or cracked open. And if he was careful enough, he could slip in and nip a little something to eat, or to drink, depending on what was stored there.

But the crashing noise from inside the room had stopped him just as he was about to open the door. Instead of going inside, he had ducked to the side of the door, afraid that someone might come out. When nobody did, curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had then peeked into the window to see what was going on. That’s when the man’s face appeared had directly on the other side and a quick glance directly into Peter’s eyes killed him.

Peter reminded himself the man’s death was an accident. With that in mind, he was no longer disgusted with what he was about to do. He had accepted the fact he could kill people at a glance and eventually also came to accept the necessity of having to steal from their dead bodies. He justified the act by reminding himself that he hadn’t intentionally killed any of the people he stole from. It had been almost four months since the last accidental death, after all. In the intervening months between that last death and this, Peter had survived on the pocket change and hand-outs people offered him where he sat crumpled and not making eye contact with anyone on various street corners during morning and afternoon rush hours.

He had pretty much avoided staying in shelters or anywhere that other homeless people congregated for a sense of community and security. He moved around a lot, not wanting to become known anywhere, hoping he was able to stay incognito, even amongst the homeless.