Tw: Substance Abuse/Panic Attack/Murder/Implied Rape
Reader Discretion Advised
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The freezing Exustus weather bit at Grim's face, making him wish he had something to cover it with. His robe's hood was up, per tradition when a hunt reaping was in order. It offered him a bit of warmth, but not much. He couldn't wait for the whiskey he'd consumed before leaving his house to kick in and heat him up.
Immy was standing across from him, snow getting stuck to her hair and lashes. Her nose and cheeks were red, and Grim was sure she would catch a cold if they lingered outside for very much longer.
She sniffed.
"Welcome to Arkansas winter," She laughed. "I'd hate to be the one hunting a man down in this."
"I know," Grim responded. "Lucky me~" He shot her a tired grin.
"Don't turn into a skelepop."
He snickered. "I won't.
"Don't get hurt, either."
"No one here can hurt me, Immy," He reassured her. "Except maybe you, of course."
"Not in a fight!"
"If you'd talk long enough, I'd drop to my knees." He laughed. "The Immy charm beats reaper magic."
"I wish."
"Right?" He agreed.
"Grim," Immy sighed, holding out her gloved hands. Grim took them in his. "Be careful still, okay?"
"Of course, Immy. I'm more worried about you, here."
"I'll be fine," She giggled, nervousness sinking into her tone. "My dad has a firearm collection."
Although he just knew his efforts would be futile, he still began to beg for her safety. "Don't leave your house, Immy. No matter what, don't leave. Text and I'll come get you, okay? Don't—"
"—Of course, Grim. I'll be okay." She squeezed his hands and looked back at her parents' house. "...What do I say to them? 'Uh, hey, sorry for disappearing haha, will you give me food? I'm not dead, I promise.'"
"It'll be okay," He told her. "You're gonna go up to that porch, knock, and they will see you through the peephole and start crying. Everything after that is all reunions and big hugs. Would you like that, Immy?"
He didn't know that would happen. He didn't know how she would die. Or when, or where, or...
He cut his thoughts off. Any further, and he wouldn't let her go.
She gulped and nodded. "Yes, I would."
"Good. I'll watch you go in, I can cloak myself in front of mortals."
"Okay."
Her hands slipped out of his.
"Wait, Immy—" He called.
She ducked her head and embraced him, as tightly as she could without getting herself killed. Grim hugged her back and savored the warmth.
He was frozen in place, terrified of getting carried away with her touch.
Oh, how he longed to kiss her and feel her hot breath on his face. He wanted to give her a proper goodbye.
I could give her one hell of a send off, He thought, flickers of passion shooting through his mind.
Despite his dreams, he knew that all she needed was a tight hug and a visit to her parents' house. Homemade food, loving arms, and the safety of being able to touch without getting hurt, something he couldn't give her.
"I love you," He sighed, begging himself not to cry.
There were so many things he wanted to say to her, so much to be done.
"I love you too, Grim!" She laughed, squeezing him. "Good luck on the job~"
Grim chuckled. "Luck doesn't have anything to do with it."
"Ooo! Confidence! Love to see it, love to see it—"
"Ha! Of course I'm confident, I'm so good at my job that I've done it accidentally!"
Immy scoffed. "Grim!"
"I'm right!"
"Ugh!"
She pulled away, beaming.
He looked at her, with her red face, dripping nose, scarf about to blow away, and lopsided sock cap.
She was goddess-like, and Grim wanted to kneel in front of her and beg her not to die.
"...Go on, now." He nodded towards the house. "Again, I love you."
"I love you. Um... bye." She was silent for a moment before laughing, "Have fun!"
Grim managed to form another grin. "Maybe I will, how do you feel about that?"
Immy huffed and turned away. "Dumbass."
He caught sight of her smile as she walked up the porch steps.
Since she couldn't see him, he pulled the bottle of Xanax out of his pocket and knocked some pills back, not caring enough to count how many. He tapped a button on his watch.
Immy turned back for reassurance, only to be greeted with a supposedly empty front yard. Grim smiled out of habit, but his face dropped when he knew she couldn't see him.
"I love you, mea vita." Grim whispered, hoping she heard it over the wind.
She knocked three times. She hugged herself.
After a few moments the door flew open, a woman looking just like her throwing her arms around Immy.
"Immalyn!" She cried. "What—how?"
"It's okay mom, I'm okay," Immy murmured, smiling. Grim watched a tear roll off her cheek. "I can't explain much, but..."
"I'm just so glad you're home...oh, sweetie..."
Grim smiled, letting his own tears fall. He teleported to his first destination and pulled off his gloves.
An old C-Barn on the edge of the town was one of Sam's hotspots. He teleported inside of the building so as not to alert the staff of his entrance.
He skimmed through the isles, not thinking he would find much, but he had to consider all of the possibilities. Sam could've been staff, for all he knew.
Maybe certain areas were teleport-proof? If magic was normal, then they must've prepared for it like the afterlife had. Although they made his life harder, Grim still knew how to get through the barriers.
He got to the back of the store and waited for an employee to walk through the staff door. It creaked, but Grim was able to sneak behind them just in time. He crept through the storage room, not finding much except a couple of teens vaping in a corner.
He sighed and teleported out of the building, not caring if he sounded any alarms. It wouldn't affect him now.
Once outside, he decided to circle the building. The concrete was slick with ice, making him glad his boots had spiky bottoms. He wasn't fond of leaving tracks, but the mortals wouldn't pay much attention. The parking lot was practically deserted, so no one would notice the tracks appearing out of nowhere. Luckily, he didn't make any sound.
Upon turning the corner, he found a trace of Sam's path.
The dead body of a blonde girl who looked only fifteen laid in front of him, her top drenched in blood.
He approached cautiously, in case the killer was still near, and crouched beside the girl. She was stabbed underneath her right ribs.
Stilling for a moment, he listened for her breathing, making sure she was actually dead. Upon hearing nothing but his own, he slowly lowered his hand to feel the blood.
Still hot, despite the ice. Grim stood and wiped his fingers with a cloth from his robe's many pockets.
He scanned the area, and found no trace of the perpetrator.
He can teleport.
It's gonna be a long night.
Grim searched several of the frequented spots, making sure to check behind buildings and in dumpsters. He found a couple dead bodies, that were all hot. He was either right on his trail, or Sam was just very fast, and Grim prayed that it wasn't the latter.
Most victims were women, and two-thirds of those women looked barely 16. At first, he was scared Sam was doing disgusting things to the bodies, but there didn't appear to be any signs of real struggle, reinforcing that the killer was fast.
He caught sight of him in a drainage ditch, stalking a teenage boy with stealth and expertise.
Predator instinct, Grim noted. He'll be hard to get close to.
He wasn't sure whether to intervene or just watch his method, but the choice was made for him when Sam pounced onto the boy, covering his mouth, and driving his knife into his chest.
The kill was messy, which relieved Grim. He may have been quick, but he wasn't good at everything. Now, he had a weakness.
The victim died quickly, and Grim didn't stick around to greet the reaper, who was attempting to coax the boy to them.
They nodded at each other, and Grim crept towards Sam. He caught sight of an exposed strap on his bag and took hold of it as gently as possible, trying not to let him feel the pull. He could've ended it, right then and there, but Sam sensed him, jerked away, and teleported off.
"Shit," Grim muttered, the words more quiet than his breath.
"He's slippery," Called the reaper in the ditch. Grim looked to them and smiled politely.
"Any suggestions?" Grim chuckled, his tone weary.
They shrugged.
"Don't touch him except to kill him," They tipped. "He lives at 802 Vernon."
802 Vernon. Gotta remember that.
He smiled in gratitude.
"That helps so much, actually! Thanks."
"Don't mention it," They sighed. "We both want him gone."
802 Vernon St. was a tiny house, looking about two bedrooms and one bathroom. He didn't think anyone lived with Sam, but he still checked the driveway for extra car tracks. There was an old pickup truck, but the boy traveled on foot, so it wasn't any use to him.
On the side of a house, there was a lawn chair under a window. It was made to climb through, so now Grim knew he lived with someone. Either someone under his protection snuck out, or he was the one sneaking out. He assumed someone was in the house, so he didn't enter, instead walking the perimeter.
He waited.
Sam could've been out all night. Grim checked his watch.
It was 9:47 PM, and he'd been seeing bodies since he got there at 5:00 PM, so Sam had to have been out for a while.
Who sneaks out at 5:00 PM?
Grim didn't have a clue, and frankly, he didn't care.
As he looped in a circle, his thoughts naturally wandered.
I wonder if Immy's dead yet. He had to force himself to not think of her death. He was bound to think of her, but he was still trying to force himself out of the mindset that today would be the day she died. It wasn't necessarily true.
He refused to cry on the job, so he tried to only think of her happily chatting with her family, eating and laughing. They were celebrating her coming home, and mending old bonds.
She had the brightest smile, her nose scrunched up when she laughed, her face was filled with color, and she was absolutely beautiful.
Grim was so, so in love.
He didn't want to part with her for a single second, let alone eternity. He wanted her—he needed her—so badly it hurt.
The cold was unbearable. His isolation was unbearable. Everything about being there, in that moment of time, felt unbearable. It was torture to live out, and Grim wished he'd just reaped Sam at the drainage ditch. Then it would be over, and he could check in on Immy.
She's dead by now.
She's dead.
She's dead.
She's dead.
She's dead.
The thought echoed through his mind, causing damage in its wake. First, his breathing sped up. Second, his throat tightened. Third, his face began to ache.
No. Not here, not now. I've got a job to do. No.
Who cares about a motherfucking job? She's dead. The love of my life is dead. Time's up.
I don't know that for sure. She's still at her house. She'd text me otherwise.
She wants to say goodbye to everybody. She's too kind for her own good, he'll kill her!
It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. Everything's fine, she's not dead, she's at her house—
Oh my god, it's almost ten! She still hasn't told me anything.
She doesn't want to leave yet. It's okay. It's going to be okay.
No, it's not!
It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay.
Stop!
Before he could panic, a woman's shriek ripped through the air, and he stopped in his tracks. Catching himself from freezing up, he turned to the woods behind the house, where the scream had come from, and bolted into them.
More screams rang out, and he ran towards them, only to miss the mark and to be sent in the other direction. The victim was teleporting, and Grim assumed she was frantically trying to control herself in order to get out of the woods.
The sound silenced, and Grim ran in the direction the most recent, only to find she wasn't there. Either she had gotten out, or she was going quiet so the killer couldn't find her.
There was gunfire to his left. He whipped around and ran there, only to find Sam. He wasn't holding the gun...he had been shot. Grim bolted towards him and reached his hand out, only for him to teleport away while his hand was a couple centimeters away from his face.
In a split second's decision, he uncloaked himself, waiting for either Sam or the woman to approach him.
He heard a clatter from behind him. He turned around, expecting something much different than what he found.
Immy was standing in the distance, crying, using a bloody hand to clutch her arm, with a gun on the ground beside her.
She must've dropped it when she saw him.
Grim froze in time, staring at her.
Her arm is bleeding.
Well, she's alive now!
She won't be. She won't be very, very soon.
Immy's lips formed a relieved, desperate smile.
"Immy," Grim whispered, finding that he couldn't think of what would happen next. He began sprinting. Immy had the same idea as him.
It wasn't fast enough. His time with her always flew by, but being apart from her, the minutes dragged behind his thoughts.
"Grim," She sobbed, grinning now. "Grim!"
And he couldn't help the smile that formed on his face too, because goddammit, he was scared. Immy was right there, so close, and he was going to make everything better. He'd make her be okay again, he'd figure everything out, he was going to make something happen, anything to stop the torture, and Immy could be happy. Immy was going to be happy, no matter what would happen.
She jumped into his arms and he laughed, giddy. He finally believed himself. Maybe everything was going to be okay.
He closed his arms around her and put his hands on her back, pulling her tight.
Everything is going to be okay.
Closing his eyes, he put a hand on the back of her head. She almost fell over, but Grim held her to him, laughing once more.
"I love you," He sobbed, finally letting his tears fall. "More than anything I've ever loved."
She was silent.
Grim remembered.
Time froze.
His world distorted into something horrifying, something so awful, but Grim couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He didn't sense anything but Immy, and his own mind.
No. No, no, NO, NO, NO, NO—
He couldn't do anything. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, and he was terrified to confirm it.
He took a shaky breath in, leaning Immy on his arms, allowing him to see her face.
She still had a slight smile, the one she had when she had just woken up, or was having a good dream.
Letting a breath out, he took a look into her eyes.
The light in them was gone.
Immy was dead.
1...
Time's up.
~~~
-Alice/Craz