2. DEAD PEOPLE HAVE THE RIGHT TO COMPLAIN

[Written 11/3/17 - 17/3/17]

Unedited

//

Once again, I was sitting in a chair, except this one was made of leather instead of steel, and the woman in front of me was nothing like Bubblegum girl at all. Her mousy brown hair was pulled up tight in a bun, and her stormy grey eyes were constantly narrowed, making it seem as though she hated everyone and everything. To be honest, it was rather frightening, and I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat as she continued to scribble down something on a piece of paper.

"Name?" She asked, out of nowhere. Her eyes were still focused on the paper, and the paper only. She didn't even spare me one glance.

Startled, I jerked my head up and nodded, only to realise that I didn't actually answer the question. Clearing my throat, I coughed and mumbled, "Natalie." 

"Full name."

"Natalie Jane Atwood," I replied obediently, before realisation struck. "Hey, weren't you the one who made the announcement before? Don't you already know my name?"

"Birthday?" Her voice was crisp and smooth, like paper fresh from the printer with razor sharp edges that could cut you if you weren't careful. I decided that it wouldn't be in my best interests to tangle with this woman - and clearly, she wouldn't be answering any of my questions - so I just meekly hung my head and gave my reply, "December 3rd, 2002."

"Age at death?"

"Fourteen - dude, you could literally just calculate that!"

"Sex?"

I stared at her, incredulous. "Really?"

She let out a sigh, as if I was the one asking the stupid questions, and not her. For the first time since I've taken a seat here, she looked up at me and stared me straight in the face. "Listen, kid," she said, settling her pen down and rubbing her eyes. "This is my job, you know? You sit there, I sit here, I ask the questions and you answer them."

"I know that," I replied, struggling between annoyance and sudden sympathy for the woman - all of a sudden, she looked tired. It made her seem less intimidating and, I don't know, more human. "But these questions just seem redundant. Or the answers are just common sense. Like, you can obviously see that I'm a female?" For some reason, my statement ended in a question as I awkwardly gestured to myself. I did look like a girl, right? 

The woman picked up her pen again. "Look, I've been filling out the same form for one thousand, two hundred and thirteen years -"

I thought I'd heard wrong. "Pardon?"

"- and I've had millions sit in that chair." She went on, as if she didn't even hear me. "Everyone complains about the form. Everyone complains about the queue. At least you didn't have to wait in that." Using her pen, she pointed at the long, straggling line of the deceased behind me. When I'd cut into the line, I had multiple people shoot me dirty looks, and this one dude even attempted to grab me. Thankfully, his attempt failed when the woman had waved her hand and made him disappear. She then proceeded to announce that he'd been sent to the back of the line - nobody wanted anything to do with me from then onwards.

"Okay," I leaned back against my chair, shifting slightly. "You have a point. But dead people have the right to complain."

"And why is that?" She asked, moving onto the next question. "Any immediate family?"

"Because they're dead?" I replied, ignoring the question for now. "Obviously?"

"Just because they're dead doesn't mean they get to shove their sob stories down everyone's throats," she threw back smoothly. "You have any idea how many times I have to play therapist?" There was a slight pause as she let out an angry snort. "Me. Why me, of all the reapers? Why do I get stuck with the desk job while everyone else goes around collecting souls?" Her fingers tightened on the pen as she jabbed the point onto the paper and snapped, "Any immediate family, Natalie?"

My head was swirling from the bucketload of information the woman - the reaper - had told me, but I managed to stammer, "Uh-uh, my Dad and my Mum. That's about i-it, really."

Mumbling something incoherent under her breath, the receptionist scribbled down the information before practically ripping the form from the desk. Shoving it into one of her many binders, she pointed to a hallway behind her that stretched seemingly into infinity. "Go there," she muttered, already taking out another form. "Your visitor's waiting for you."

"Um..." I stood up from my chair and awkwardly walked around the table so that I was standing next to her. "I just...walk?"

Clearly irritated, she shot me a murderous glare. A dark-skinned woman with curly hair had already sat down on the chair. "Did I stutter?"

I shook my head no before practically taking off at a fast walk down the hallway, away from Reaperzilla. She had been okay to deal with at the beginning, but I had a funny feeling that I somehow triggered her when I started rambling. Oh well, I thought, subconsciously wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans. Nothing I can do now...

For what felt like an eternity, I followed the brightly-lit path - this place did seem to be fond of using fluorescent lights. Turning right, then a left, I came to a towering metallic door. Briefly, I wondered if I had taken a wrong turn, until the door suddenly swung open to reveal my visitor.

All I could say was, "Oh, kill me."

"Sorry, love," said the cloaked figure sitting sprawled in a silver chair. "But you're already dead."

//

A/N:

Hey lovelies! <3

I'm back again with another chapter! This one's a little shorter, but hopefully more exciting than the last. I know the last chapter was mostly a filler (and this one kinda was too), but don't worry, there'll be some more Death action occurring soon ;)

QOTC (Question of the Chapter): What did you think of the reaper at the reception? Is she going to make another appearance or nah?

Remember to vote and comment! :) Thank you so much!

-Nicki