The Grim Reaper was not an entity to be messed with. Despite popular belief, your father did not kill people.

He guided souls into the afterlife. Helping the damned souls to the afterlife of their souls weight in the world.

Whilst holding you, mind that.

He set you down on the floor, standing over the hospital bed. The woman stared at him, clearly teetering on the verge of falling asleep and never waking back up.

Her family crowded around, holding her hands and kissing her forehead as she just stared.

“Dear…what are you looking at?” The mother of the woman crooned, cupping her cheek in her wrinkly hands as she glanced over to her daughter.

The woman couldn’t respond, hand shakily touching her mother’s as she gulped softly.

And in a moment, the heart monitor flatlined.

Her family wept as they sat around her, and they gently closed her eyes. When the woman went limp, would could see the ghostly wisps of her form float up.

The spirit sat on the hospital bed, staring at the Grim Reaper—standing tall with his long cloak and sharp scythe, and you—a little toddler staring up at her.