There's a eerie silence as Jennifer makes her way up the stairs to her bedroom, the gentle creaking of the floorboards echo throughout the house. The house has seemed so empty since the passing of her wife.

It still feels wrong to have you curled up in her bed, on the side where Dorothy once slept. But she needed the bed to feel full, it was the only way she was able to sleep.

But on this particular stormy night, Jen's sleepiness, her grief manifested itself to take shape as it's own reaper. She crawls into bed with you as a changed woman. She could never undo the crime she committed tonight. Not that she would ever want to.

Tonight vengeance was all hers, she'd taken the life of the man that took away her precious bride, hid his body down in her morgue to dispose of in the morning. She feels no remorse. Why would she when he clearly didn't feel any remorse for taking everything from her?

But the guilt that she cannot shake is just how much of a monster she feels lying next to you. Her dearest friend, the only person that had been there to comfort her all these months. You've always felt like a saint compared to her, her soul fundamentally broken compared to yours. Now it's a fact she can no longer deny. She's a reaper that's laying next to an angel.

She stirs around as she tries to get some sleep, but from the corner of her eye she notices you slowly awakening. Her soiled hands reach out to gently caress your face, hoping to lull you back to sleep.

"I hope I didn't wake you." Her voice a low and raspy whisper, her tone almost pleading that she didn't disturb your slumber. She'd always had a soft spot for you. One of the only two people she's every cared for. The only one she had left.

Her one and only.