He looked at the next letter on the pile; he prided himself on answering all the letters one way or another. But when he recognized the font he sighed: Lola again. There was not much he could there. Still…
Dear Death… No scratch that
This is Lola here; you know the woman you’ve been ignoring for the past year and a half or so. You know, I know what people say but my ‘suicide attempts’ wouldn’t have been attempts if you’d collaborated a little. They’re not the acts of an attention seeking person. I’m not seeking attention. I’m seeking you.
I mean you could have taken me after the climbing accident; after all, leaving me like this really was a dick move. I used to climb mountains for fuck’s sake, I was a fucking athlete. And I was climbing in the world: getting known, getting some sponsors who would finance my projects. And now look at me. A shell of a woman: incapable of walking, barely able to move my arms. Thank whoever invented voice recognition on computers otherwise I couldn’t send you this.
There’s nothing left; the sponsors disappeared like rats fleeing a sinking ship, my boyfriend dumped me because he couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore. I’m a burden to my family and they hate it. They may not hate me but the medication, the doctors, the material required to keep me alive… it costs money that they don’t have. Money that should go to my brother and sister’s education. Not to keep me like this, like some vegetable.
Sure I can use my head but what’s the point? I can’t climb anymore, I can’t ride, I can’t run, I can’t go to school finish my degree… There isn’t much left. I heard what they said: it’s still life. No it’s not living, it’s surviving at the expense of everyone else. I’m not stupid, I know if you come it will hurt them. But in the long term it’s for the best. I know it’s the easy way out. But there’s no other way out. It’s the only one.
Why didn’t you come when I drove my wheelchair into the swimming pool; it would have been easy. Fuck it’s heavy as shit and no one should have been able to pull it out of the waters. But no, you and some fucking guardian angel decided it wasn’t my time. Why can’t it be my time? I want it to be my time. NOW!
Now come and get me you moron.
He sighed again, as he finished. He understood the young woman; truly when she fell off that cliff, he was right there. It wasn’t his fault if a Rangers had happened to pass by. But now… he looked at his list. Lola was nowhere near the top. In fact, she had some years to live; two decades. He understood her frustration, somewhat. But it wasn’t his call. He was just the Reaper, not the decider. Who knew? Someone might come into her life and change her mind.
Besides, he knew what would happen if he ever went on a rampage and decided who got to live or die beyond the scope of his list: he’d be fired and he needed the job. How else was he going to feed the kids? Nobody wanted to be Death… Heck, the job sucked mostly. But no job was a stupid job. And he needed this one. Besides he was good at it. People trusted him because he didn’t look as scary as the guy before him. But Lola… she wasn’t to be reaped yet. But the only way he could let her know was if one of her suicide attempts brought her close enough to death for him to show up and tell her. Knowing her, it would be soon. With another sigh, he moved onto the next letter.