—Hey… hey…—

A smell so foul that it seemed clear enough to poison his nostrils and make him gag, forcing the bit of white he drank into his throat. In his calm eyes his tears spread and lightly soaked his eyes. He turned his head and watched.

—I’ll leave you two for a moment. Take the time you need. — The doctor said to take step by step that came to his ears while she fixed her robe to push his shoulder, push it aside and with a slam of the door mark the absence of a feeling of safety.

His gaze focused on the origin of such a disastrous smell, which he approached at a slow pace.

—Grandpa, Grandpa, you're going to be fine. —Said a little girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen.

—No, no, little one. — He told her with a weak and spliced voice with her high-pitched and screeching screams that he swallowed while he tried to outline his voice. —I'll be fine, I'll be fine. Don't worry. — He said after half a minute, what it took him to say that between light touches of the ink that soaked his heart.

—I have had a good life, I have lived well. I think it's okay if I die, because I already gave what he had for this world, and he gave it for me just like I did. You don't have to cling to me like this, it will only hurt you and it hurts me that my misfortune affects you. I ask you, I ask you and I long for you, to please live your life and make a dream out of your world, one that I have never been able to live, that I never could and will never be able to, please, I leave it to you, my girl.

—No, grandfather, please. — She said. —You can't leave me, I beg you. —She said before the sob that escaped from his diaphragm and put a strong lump in her throat. Tears began to flow strongly and overwhelmingly, covering her eyes while she wanted to squeeze and not let go, but from squeezing so much she was suffocating.

—No, I do not allow myself to be different and betray the world, I do not allow myself to be unjust and sin outright. Please, don't grab my shoulder because it will pull you, touch my shoulder because I want you to be able to remember it so you can forget me. I regret a lot, but regretting more will not heal me, it will only harm me, leave me and destroy me; I don't want you to touch a destroyed soul but a living one. —

A pure and not foreign desire, one capable of care and fullness that escaped from her lips with a 'don't leave me' that easily flattered the possibility of continuing to suffocate without the fear of suffocating and with her hand he moved to touch the shoulder of the tear.

—What? —She said to turn around and see whose hand was squeezing her arm and not letting her go no matter what or why he grabbed it.

—You have sinned as a rapist, damned castrator of life. — He said. —You have lived off other people's misery and you stick to what sounds best. You have hurt and hurt, and I do not allow such. —

—Who are you? Let me go, let me go! —The little girl sobbed. —Leave him, leave my grandfather, please. —

With horror she saw the old man and the grimace of fury accompanied by panic that covered his wrinkles to form more on his drooping and loose cheeks that fell away while he tried to escape his soul from there and sing to God for our father to save him. of his misery. So sad that it wasn't like that and that with command and command he gave him a scolding that he wouldn't stop.

—No Please. —He begged with eyes a mess of crimson and fetid tears. —I have redeemed myself, I do deserve a heaven. —

—You deserve death, to be macabre, you are scum who deserves to die and suffer for eternity, you deserve to lose yourself and die in gloomy solitude, no, in hell, you damned disgusting delusion! —He said in words that he didn't know if they belonged to him, while he felt how that girl was trying to snatch his arm from her hand and be able to touch the unfortunate man's shoulder, to which he did not give in to give him one more reprimand.

—You will suffer and die, just as you killed and mutilated others. You have not redeemed yourself, you have lost yourself! — So he said and with command he ordered words of life in death and left. Before he could say goodbye, before anything.

—Grandpa, grandpa! — The little girl said while she did not touch but clung to the shoulder of her deceased with the arm that she did not have held by her hand. -Please please. —

—Please don't leave, not without having suffered. —She said again. —I hate you, you damned bastard! You have hurt me and you have the grace to leave without paying for your actions? I hope you rot in hell! —The tears that were not inked with her grief but with her hatred were wrapped in the deaf ears of the one who never paid nor will pay in life, but he will pay there where they call the afterlife for being a bastard.

—Those tears weren't of sorrow. —He said to himself as he let go of her arm and took a step back. —Why? Him. — He saw her sobbing and yelling at him, yelling at him to rot and cursing about his life and who he was. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he was missing a little more; At the time of dying, no one can say no, which is why going there makes you sad and it is normal for one to regret it.

The boy stayed like that and felt his eyelids get wet. Once he understood it, he let out a sob, a sob he didn't know if he was directing at the victim or the victims. To whom he will regret the least, he was the one to whom he would dedicate the least tears. Although it was not clear in his mind, he tried not to look away, but he failed miserably, leaving himself faced with the disdain that the old man who cried and died a moment ago gave him with his gaze, but he would also return it knowing that it would not rot.

But it didn't feel so good, it didn't.

«Does the thought of repentance lose value once the dead person stops shining? I couldn't say that I can forgive that easily, but to leave like this... I don't know. It's strange and not enjoyable, but I don't think he didn't deserve it. He's scum, he should just see it as such, stop overthinking it, it won't change anything»

Between sobs he saw this because he couldn't speak with the voice in his throat but with the voice in his brain, otherwise he would possibly be the second to lie down in his arms to continue crying.

Nothing was happening, nothing had ended and it didn't seem to end.

—Grandpa, grandpa, you are the best. —Said a child of perhaps five years old. —You have always been there for me, you have never failed me. —She said as she gave him a small smile.

—Yes, my little one, I will always be by your side. —She stated with an up and down shake of her head. —I'm never going to leave you. —

—Grandpa, grandpa, let's play. — Said the little girl to cling to the hand of the almost rock-dweller and pull him with a weak effort to her sight towards the swing.

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—I want you to play with me. — She told him while after a good amount of short steps, she stopped in front of the swing to try to climb up clumsily with her short legs.

The old man took her by the armpits and carried her to place her on the wooden platform on which he sat. She swayed slightly from the rust of the chains holding her, but it was enough to keep her afloat.

He gave it a small push with which the piece of wood was pushed and the little creature was carried upwards, while she held on to the rusty chains, stinging her soft hands, but not enough to bother her. She turned her head to look at him and the old man laughed with joy to see her face full of youth and fervent to explore what it was like to go up and explore everything that the sky can reach, although the stars may not have been her destiny, because everything that went up on that swing came down suddenly.

A small giggle full of life escaped that little thing, which felt the weight of its body go down and go backwards to rise and return forward. She didn't stop, but there was no reason to do so, it was just a moment that would be unnecessary to forget.

—Grandfather. — She told him a few moments later.

—What's wrong, my girl? — The old man responded with a small caress on her head when she saw that she was staying still.

—I can always trust you, right, Grandpa? —She said as she brought her face closer to him.

—Yes, my Girl. — He stated once again. —I will always be there for you to trust me. —

—Thank you, Grandpa. — He said. —I love you very much. — She once again affirmed his affection while she raised her small arms to approach him.

—I love you too, my girl. — The old man grabbed her and carried her off the swing, holding her in her arms while he made small slow and passing turns, with her supported in her already raised weak arms, but capable of supporting her beacon of hope.

They looked at each other with what it means to stay by each other's side, leaving each other only through death.

—You see it, right? —It told him internally. —This means living. — said. —Death. —

This means living... He thought about it for a while while looking into his eyes and at the same time noticing that there was no trace of anyone. They died, in the end, he harvested her, harvested such a soul and with words that did not belong to him he cursed him to death with a multitude of hatred.

—Grandpa, what are you doing? — Said the girl as she was stripped from the garden of joy, her breathing was faster and her movements awkward

—Don't worry, beautiful girl. — The old man said as he put his fingers between the doll that was screaming and writhing from side to side, trying to kick him away without enough strength to throw itself sideways.

—Please, let me go, Grandpa! — She said with a broken voice and slight sharp breaths that escaped from her mouth, she felt how the pressure entered and left with each touch and movement that sent a sensation as sweet and sour as a glass of coffee with milk, of which the heat It was what made her most reluctant to do that.

And her age, or her blood.

—You're already a big girl, it won't be long until you're completely a young lady. —The crocodile-faced man said to the eleven-year-old girl, with a deep voice and with a heat that was like putting your hand into a stove; painful and with nothing to do but beg for water.

He continued stripping her of her garden, pulling out every excess root while pushing her legs back, only to settle on her small, fragile rear, of which he grabbed one side in each hand, and placed the thing inside her wrist.

—Please, stop! — The creature very lacking of love screamed, with moans that she tried to hold back while he clutched his chest and felt how the green stem was snatched away and roughly torn out to dig and put the shovel between the wet and dry earth, which was spilled between pieces that decomposed his weak structure into something more amorphous and devoid of her psyche, perhaps to a point that they would never be the same again, all only to put up a new sprout that pierced the earth with its thorns and caused a tear that came loose. in a loud scream that fell silent without the strength to continue.

—Don't worry, I'll make you a lady. — Said the bastard while his thorns buried him inside the greenish and fresh grass, like this it continued for minutes, perhaps hours or more.

Every gasp and squeal was spilled with tears spilling from her little eyes as she tried to get used to the rhythm of what was coming, what would come. Pain was what she felt when the new shoot bloomed above her while her arms could do nothing but clutch her own small chest in fear and a movement in which writhing was not enough for the fervor caused by the continuous pushing.

—No... — He said, with revulsion, perhaps. His vision was filled with black fog that he removed when he opened his eyes, hence the presence of the boy presence glimpsed what was happening.

The little girl, or rather; Now, young lady, she was sitting in the dining room of a small and beautiful house, there were 4 chairs, but none of them were occupied but hers. A cake with some candles that said one and two, lit on fire while she watched in amazement and a faint smile formed on her lips from ear to ear, with the orange tint of the fire illuminating her face in the room with dim lights.

Next came the old man passing at a slow pace, but with a smile on his face and a gift in his hands, well wrapped and with a pink ribbon with a white wrapper, medium in size and possibly light due to the ease with which he carried it. The little girl glimpsed him with her eyes and waited patiently for the old man to approach.

—Here is my gift for you, my lady. — He said as she handed her the gift, extending his arms towards the infant.

-—Thank you very much, grandfather. — The infant nodded with a shrill voice, full of bright agitation and took the gift, with his small hands, but close to being more than that, he tore the wrapping to pieces and opened the ribbon, pulling it to open and open the contents of the gift. box.

There was just a small sheet with a drawing of small footprints. In confusion, she turned to look at his grandfather and before she could say anything, she felt a small thing gently touching her neck, smooth, round and with a touch of small hairs. When she turned around, she saw a small paw with white fur that was lowered, and with it the hairy animal, which looked skinny and small, just like a baby, carved its face into her arm.

«That's nice, but what affection is there in which there is nothing left but to accept love and remain silent? I am afraid that I lack the judgment to condemn love, but I do have the judgment to punish pain, and I believe that it is such that it deserves to be chained.»

—Kitten! —She said with surprise. —How beautiful! — She took him in her arms, the little white ball and perhaps of fleas, he let himself be carried in her arms without pouting and snuggled his little body in her arms, settling himself like a velvet pillow with a slightly beige touch. A bitter feeling present in the mouth of the boy as he observed it... was it sweet in a way?

—Thank you, Grandpa! — Said the lady. —Thank you for always being by my side. Mom is in the hospital and no one came to my birthday, only you, grandpa. —

You're welcome, my lady. — She said as he moved her hand to place it on her head and gently ruffle her hair with his hand. -I love you very much. —

—Me too, grandpa. —

…

…

…

…

"What i can think? She looked so happy… Was she? Who am I to decide who she loves or not? Am I wrong...? I am? I am… or not, I am.”

He sighed lightly as he fervently tried to regain control of his speech and not break down at the word that his hand preached, which he squeezed on one arm so as not to let him finish condemning the one he always hated and held a grudge against.

Forced to have to endure knowing that I could only wish him more hate and that it would never reach his ears, but rather he would ignore it with the earplugs that he lacks, but they are no longer needed due to his obvious lack of feeling or seeing.

Who else has not suffered the same fate that, if not instead of devoting their hatred, they had to suffer for their pleasure and cry out for forgiveness which they do not need since they were already assured, unlike the putrid being, that they would obtain it?

—Don’t leave, grandpa… — Said the crying girl. —I love you… — She said.

«I love you?»

.

.

.

.

.

«Love? Did she? How could…»

She love him…

With a lack of calm, but serene, he took a step to feel how he trampled each stain with the mud of his shoes, which as he approached the doorknob, stopped at the sound of the knob that he pulled and in the same way he fixed the door. collar of the jacket slightly to step out and slam the door, damaging his ears.

«The one who caused harm has already died. Was it him, or wasn't it? No matter, he wasn't lucky enough to continue. Every word becomes silent with my steps and as I walk I see it, every blind murmur belongs to the hand that I will take and take away, if not more, eliminate from this world.

A gaze that was planted in front of him became crestfallen with his faint breaths and each whisper in his step before the concrete that hit his left foot and then the right to take a curve in the street through which his duty made him travel.

«I am the harvester of souls, death itself incarnate and my duty is to take the life of whoever it touches; not out of pity or hatred, but because now each of my words is nothing more than a reprimand that must be heard and silenced before the vivid sigh of someone who is no longer one. And only perhaps in this way, they will have salvation from her death or the calm of herself, from what they suffer and fear, I among all am the one who has the order to end their lives.»

His steps and gaze were reflected in the light of a post, leaving to advance along the pavement. Out where the dark trail comes with itself.

Chapter 2

END.