"So that's what he looked like?" she mused quietly, eyes still fixed on the screen.
"Are you satisfied?"
Rhea turned to him, her eyes dull.
"Not even close," she scoffed. "I could fall asleep to that every night."
That response," he started, with exasperation, "is exactly why we're still here."
Rhea's jaw shifted as she rolled her eyes. "So what was the point?"
"What was your goal, Rhea?" he asked. "What did you hope to accomplish in that moment?"
She exhaled sharply, raking her hands through her hair.
"I thought it would be obvious to an omnipotent creature like Death—I wanted him dead!" she snapped with a hiss. "And why do I still feel pain if I'm dead? This shit sucks!"
"I understand that you wanted him dead," he said. "What I want to know is why."
He moved closer, arms clasped behind his back.
"What prompted you to act in that moment?"
Rhea's nostrils flared, her tone dripping with irritation.
"You keep asking me the stupidest questions, like it's not obvious," she said. "He took advantage of me—and he probably did it to multiple girls. He was going to do it to her, and you're mad at me for stopping him?"
Her voice cracked, disbelief bleeding through the anger.
"Are you into that kind of shit or something?"
His tone deepened with authority, a hiss-tinged edge cutting through it.
"Enough."
Rhea stiffened as, one by one, every screen went black, reflecting her expression back at her like a zoomed-in lens.
"You didn't kill him because of what he did to you," he said, pointing at her. "You killed him because he didn't need you anymore."
Rhea's eyes widened, her lips parting in stunned denial. Unshed tears burned at her lids, raw with grief and disbelief.
"No… no," she whispered, shaking her head. "That's not true."
"Yes," he replied. "That—"
He held her there with his words.
"—is what you can't forgive."
Rhea trembled where she sat, her thoughts folding inward, just like her body—as his words looped in her head, tightening around her psyche as she tried to pull them apart.
He lowered himself to his haunches, until they were face to face.
"That does not mean," he said, "that you liked what happened to you."
She didn't respond.
"Rhea."
He lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her eyes up as he saw awareness began to flicker back to the hollow depths.
"Rhea.." he started with a low whisper. "Your heart is so heavy, burdened with these things, even though you deny it."
Her lips trembled as she met his face. "I'm awful.." She whispered, "I'm a disgusting person." Her voice croaked hoarsely as she sniffled.
"You are not. Your… feelings are contradictory, not corrupt."
He reached out to help stand her up.
"As it stands," he said, "Peace is unattainable for you."
Rhea's breath hitched. She scrubbed roughly at her face, dragging her sleeve beneath her eyes.
"What do you mean?" she asked, hoarsely. Her gaze slowly lifted, realization blanketing her face.
"What—" Her voice faltered. "Am I going to hell?"
"That," he said, "is a simplification." Rhea sniffled harder, rubbing roughly at her face as she pulled away from his touch, scoffing.
"I mean, obviously," she said. "I killed people. Lots of them. I stole. I broke—like—every commandment." A bitter laugh slipped out as she turned away from Death. "Just send me already," she muttered. "I'm ready."
"That is not your only option," he said.
Rhea laughed under her breath, She turned back to him, with burning red eyes.
"You literally just told me there's no peace for me," she retorted. "So where else would I be going?"
She gestured vaguely at the dark around them. "There's nowhere else. You already decided that."
I'm offering you the opportunity to live again," he said. "A chance at salvation."
Rhea's breath caught.
Her shoulders eased despite herself, hands folding across her chest as she studied him, eyes bright with cautious curiosity. She didn't speak—just waited.
"I have a mission," he continued. "And, Rhea—someone with your experience could be… useful."
Rhea shook her head, closing her eyes in disbelief.
"My experience? What experience?" She let out a harsh laugh. "I can't do anything good."
She threw her hands up. "I fuck up everything—and everyone—I get close to. I'd ruin it off rip."
"Who said," he started calmly, "that ruin isn't the desired result?"
Rhea's eyes widened slightly. "You want me to… ruin…"
"Kill," he interrupted, grabbing her hand. "I need you to kill someone—no, a bloodline."
Rhea's brows pulled together tightly. "You want me to kill someone? But you are Death. Isn't that your schtick? Why do you need me to?"
He sighed, dropping her hand. "There are rules in place, Rhea—rules that even beings like me cannot cross." He cupped his chin in thought. "This family is favored by Lady Luck. Direct interference on my part… would not fare well."
"But it would fare fine with mine?" she said, her voice thick with disbelief.
"Human interference is common. Expected. Therefore, you would not be convicted of a crime as I would be. Your presence would be like a fly, it wouldn't attract too much attention. You would be a nuisance at most, but harmless nonetheless."
"Honestly, I don't know how I feel about defying someone you don't dare defy," she said with a frown. "If Death can't kill someone, why the hell could I? What if they found out I did it? I don't want their godly wrath." She shook her head adamantly. "Nah. I can't out-Death Death. Send me to Hell."
He gripped her wrist tightly. "You don't know what you are saying."
She looked from his grip to his smooth, featureless face. "I think I've got a fine understanding of it," she muttered slowly. "Fire, brimstone, torture, pain. I'm fine with that."
"Such a foolish girl," he said, shaking his head in exasperation. "'Hell,' as humans call it, is not that simple. Each hell and heaven is individualized. No two afterlives are the same. Your heaven is based on what you most desire, and your hell… well… surely, you get the point." He stepped closer, his voice a whisper. "Are you sure that's what you want? To feel each day tick by? Time doesn't pass faster. It feels the same—each sensation," his thumb stroked her palm, "intensified. Every fear, every person, every thing that caused you harm… amplified. Are you certain you wish to experience that?"
He paused, letting the silence grow heavy. "And we both know what your hell is, Rhea." He slowly pulled away, stepping back to give her space as he waited for her answer.
Rhea stared down into the black abyss. "So…" she began, then shifted awkwardly, looking up at him. "Okay. Well… what's… what's my heaven, then? What happens if I do it?" Her eyes searched his glassy expression. "What do I get?"
Death leaned in, grabbing both of her wrists. "What you've always wanted," he said. He turned his head slowly toward the wall of black.
The screens flickered to life.
Rhea's breath hitched. The image displayed was her mother and father sitting close together, her father's arm wrapped around Lynn's shoulders. Her mother's face was frozen in a blissful laugh as she held a grinning, snaggle-toothed toddler against her chest.
The child—it was Rhea.
Rhea felt a deep ache and longing in her chest as she looked away. "I don't… want that," she muttered, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
"But you do, Rhea. Your heart doesn't lie." He pulled her closer, turning her toward the screen as he stood behind her, his hands firm on her arms. "This is what your heart desires—love, affection from those who abandoned you."
He cupped her head in his hands, leaning down to whisper, "What will you choose, Rhea?"
Rhea closed her eyes, drawing in a slow, silent breath. She released it as a resigned sigh, her eyes opening. "Fine," she said flatly. "Tell me what I need to do."