I’m surprised by my own physique in the mirror. I was used to wearing my black hoodie which covered most of me in baggy fabric, but all the training in the last few months had paid off. I was not exactly used to the physical labor, but my sculpted muscles were forming and I was quite pleased with myself. I flexed a bit and scoped out the defined parts of my body in the mirror.

  I moved away and glided to my desk. Reaching inside the drawer, I wrapped my hand around the compass Siobhan gave me before we parted ways. After the fiasco in Greece, we had teleported outta there with the angel lady so fast, that I never got a chance to say goodbye. But I guess she had felt something too; Siobhan came all the way here to see me, albeit briefly. Because of the curse of the Flying Dutchman, she was only allotted twenty four hours on dry land, once a year.

  We stayed at the Royal York Hotel and had an amazing night, but she had to get back to the sea, and I had to come back here…to do whatever it is that I do here.

  Come to think of it, I wasn't sure what good I actually did for the team here at the Cathedral. Every time we went on a mission, I just got hurt, crippled or killed (temporarily, of course) and ended up out of commission. I hadn't actually fought anyone or used the Scythe more than the time I tried to control the undead on Siobhan’s ship and with Ethan's soul.

  I sighed, missing her bushy red hair in my face, and the smell of the sea on her flesh.

  Then there was Amelia. She and I had both agreed to take things slow and steady; she was coming off the trauma of Erik being a predatory creep, and I was still getting over Erin, my ex who had her new boyfriend stab me to death. Honestly, I enjoyed her company when we were both stable enough to give it. We'd got see movies and concerts downtown, go for dinner and coffee dates and hang out in the rec room here. But we tried not to do anything in a room with just the two of us. She was still scared, and honestly, I didn't blame her. I found we had a lot more in common then just music though, so that kinda worked out.

  But I have such a hard time shaking the feelings that well up inside me when I'm alone. I used to climb up to the bell tower, but Orion and the others knew I hid up there. So I've started finding other tall buildings to stand on, looking out over the night life of Toronto. This particular night, the cars rushed by, the lights blurring together, creating art in my mind. The noise was all tuned out by my new noise cancelling headphones, making it easy to just zone out. Despite Siobhan and Amelia in my life, I still found myself thinking about Erin. Something still pulled me back there, and it only made my heart ache more.

  I pulled out my phone, and scrolled through social media. She hadn't posted anything in a while, which was weird; Erin was the kind of girl that had to document everything in her life and show it off to the rest of the world. Like when we broke up and she dragged me through the coals to our mutual friends until they all hated me. Mind you, most of the things she said about me were true. I was a burnout stoner with no ambition. I chuckled to myself, comparing where I was now, to who I was back then.

  A flitter of white catches my eye, and I turn to regard the albino crow staring at me with its six blood red eyes.

  "I didn't think I'd see you again." I told her. Alma shifted from her crow form to her normal appearance; a small girl in a white wispy gown. Her red eyes persisted and stared at me, unblinking.

  "I had some time to think, about us." She said softly. Her voice floated on the wind, drifting around and then through me.

  "Us?" I asked skeptically.

  "Our situation is unique. You are the wielder of my Master's Scythe. You have become one with the force which I am made of. Instead of trying to control and limit you, I should have been helping you learn, and for that, I'm sorry." She stared at me, but I could see the edges of her eyes soften.

  "Well, I'm sorry for trying to control you but I'm not sorry for saving Ethan." I said, swinging my legs back over the edge of the rooftop ledge. Alma floated to come sit beside me, and I turned to face her.

  "I understand." She said, emotionlessly. We sat in silence for a long time before I spoke again.

  "Do you ever miss being human?" I asked. She tilted her head to the side, confused.

  "I've never been human. This is just one of the forms I take. I'm sorry if you were looking for me to sympathize with your own emotion distress. Do you ever miss being human?" She said it all so matter-of-factly that I couldn't help but shake my head and smile.

  "I don't feel like much has changed about me. I'm still the same ol' Dyson." I told her, kicking my legs back and forth over the edge of the building.

  "Are you though? Have you not grown from your experiences?" She asked, sincerely puzzled. I opened my mouth to speak, about to tell her I was much the same as I'd always been, but it just wasn't true anymore.

  "Yea, I guess you're right." I nodded absently as I pulled a joint from my pocket, tried to uncrumple it, and light it. But the wind up here, especially during the winter, was bad. If it weren't for the smog barrier in Toronto, it would probably be snowing.

  "I came here for a reason other than to make up with you." Alma said, watching me struggle. A breeze caught my joint and it flew out and down the side of the building. I sighed heavily and climbed back onto the roof, stretching.

  "Oh yea, what reason is that?" I asked, walking away, expecting her to follow. When I turned back to look at her, she was gone. I stared at the space she had been, then shrugged. When I turned back to the staircase door, she was floating in front of me.

  "You scared the shit out of me." I groaned. Alma tittered, an airy sound of laughter.

  "I came to tell you someone you care about has been on the precipice of death for a while now. I thought you'd like to know." She told me, floating around me in circle as I entered the stairwell.

  "Who exactly? Everyone at the Cathedral seems fine to me." I asked, only half listening.

  "Erin, the woman partially responsible for your current state." Alma whispered to me, before disappearing entirely. I froze in place on the stairs. I had been having strange feelings about missing Erin for months. Had I been able to sense that she was in trouble. I wanted to ask more questions, but I guess Alma knew that, and she had fucked off.

  "Damn it." I grumbled, as I moved a little faster down the stairs. I was only a few floors down before I moved into one of the hallways, making my way to the elevator instead.

  ~*~

  I stood outside of our old apartment longer than I would ever like to admit. If you asked any of the guys back at the Cathedral, I was totally over this part of my life. But I all too often hid behind sarcastic comments and witty jokes. Don't get me wrong, everyone loves that about me, I'm a riot. But this part...this isn't the part that I normally let people see. When I finally knocked on the door, I heard "Oh shit!" and a mad scramble across the apartment. Then someone pressed their head against the door, listening. This part of the ghetto, we didn't have peepholes on a lot of the doors. But it's not like anyone here was in the habit of opening their door to strangers, unless it was to sell drugs.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "He doesn't live here anymore." I heard her say. My heart fluttered a bit, and I found myself standing their speechless.

  "Erin, it's me. Can I come in?" I finally said, mustering some form of courage. I hear the deadbolt unlatch, and she opened the door a crack, the chain lock still on.

  "Dyson?" She asked, her voice lower, confusion on the part of her face that I could actually see.

  "Yea, let me in." I said, grimacing and looking around, hoping none of the neighbors decided to poke their head out. Erin stood there for a long time, heavy lidded eyes staring at me. Her vibrant emerald eyes had lost some of their luster and were just...green. Plain old green. I cringed. When I looked back, she had unlatched the chain and was holding the door open, so I entered. She quickly locked the door behind us.

  The apartment was more barren then when I had left. We used to have a combined collection of nerdy paraphernalia, Funko Pops, trading cards and anime statues. Now, there was just a mattress in the living room, with her computer set up on the coffee table in front of it. The dining room set we bought when we moved in together was gone. The small kitchen to the left of the door was also empty, except for a microwave, a kettle and the standard stove and fridge. I could smell the stacked, unwashed dishes in the sink from the door. The large tv that I had brought when we moved in was also gone, the empty wall mount hanging loosely.

  "What are you doing here?" She asked, crossing her arms across her chest. She looked at the ground, her head tilted to the side, avoiding eye contact. Looking at her fully now, I understood what Alma was talking about. Her fire orange hair was messy, but there was some attempt to brush it. She had days-old make up caked to her face, giving her the appearance of a raccoon hooker. She hadn't even bothered to change out of her pajamas; Minions bottoms and a bright pink tank top that said 'Fuck Off' in glitter.

  "Someone told me you weren't doing so hot, so I thought I'd check on you." I told her honestly. It didn't matter that a Reaper was the one that had told me, and I wasn't about to get into the whole 'Hidden World of the Order of Vigilance' thing with her.

  "I'm fine." She said quickly, making a poor effort to hide her arms, still not looking at me.

  "Yea, I can see that." I said, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. Not only had she been cutting, she had track marks from injections. Her arms were covered in bruises and scars. Some of which had gotten infected and wept puss. Erin pulled her hand away and I shook my head.

  "I don't need your help, I'm fine." She said again, this time meeting my eyes, defiance painted on her tired face.

  "Where is Max?" I asked, referring to her lumbering brute of a boyfriend, the one who had disemboweled me not so long ago. Great dude.

  "He...left." She hesitated, like there was more to the story. I was inclined to push, due to the state of her. Or maybe my own morbid curiosity.

  "Are you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to sit here and ask a hundred questions?" I put my hands on my hips and gave her the most disappointed look I could muster. She stared at me, like she was zoning out, but then her eyes focused.

  "Yea okay." She said, defeated. I followed her to go sit down on the mattress, but the closer I could get, the more I could smell it. I decided I'd just stand next to it. She moved aside the blankets and pillows and a pile of weirdly shaped sex toys. That was when I noticed the computer set up, and the three webcams pointed at the mattress.

  "Jesus H. Christ Erin." I groaned. She glared at me put then just threw her arms up in the air.

  "Whatever." She groaned.

  "So you wanna pick somewhere and start telling me what's going on?" I said, leaning against the wall, taking my headphones off completely and letting them slip around my neck.

  "Why don't you tell me huh? I thought you were dead. You never reached out." She said defensively. I stared at her, mouth agape. Bitch please!

  "You stood by and watched your boyfriend stab me to death. I was pretty sure that was the end of things between you and I." I snarked back. She rolled her eyes.

  "Clearly you aren't dead." She shot back. I chuckled to myself. If she only knew what I had gone through. What it had done to me.

  "Clearly. We're here to talk about you, Erin." I pushed. I wasn't sure if she was deflecting or not, because this was how it normally went between us. After years of being together, she knew how to push all of my buttons.

  "Max got me hooked on heroin and when we couldn't afford to chase the high, he started selling my stuff. And when we ran out of stuff to sell, he'd get angry. Then he tried to pimp me out to his friends for drugs and I kicked him out and called the cops." She said it so fast, that I had to replay the words in my head, which made me sick to my stomach.

  "What the fuck." I mumbled, looking her over. She wouldn't meet my eyes again.

  "I couldn't shake the habit though. I tried. My parents paid for rehab. They think I'm clean." She said, tears starting to form in her eyes, returning the crystal-like quality to the green. "I started camming to fuel it. Made an webpage like those other girls on social media. But I don't really know what I'm doing. And people say really hurtful things online." She looked down at her arms with disgust and shame. So many scars. More than even my accident prone ass.

  "I'm sorry I didn't call, or text." I said quietly. The room was still for a long time, except for the hum of her computer. "What about your parents?"

  "What about them? If I told them I fell off the wagon again and what I was doing for money, they'd disown me. It was already a hassle the first time to get rehab." She shot back.

  "But at least you wouldn't be alone. You could move back in with them. Start over." I suggested, but she was rolling her eyes before I even finished.

  "Oh, you think it's just that easy do you? Just pick up and start over? When did you become a master of self-help?" Her eyes showed me pain, but her mouth just kept shooting barbs. Our whole relationship was like this.

  "I'm not, by any means. But I got off my ass and took a chance, and I was able to turn my life around." I told her, putting my back to the wall. "I just don't like seeing you like this Erin. You're gonna die if you keep this up."

  "That would be better than living like this every day." She said, almost with pride.

  "No, it wouldn't. Trust me. Listen, if I, of all people, can turn my life around, then you can too. You just gotta reach out and take some help." I told her.

  "What did you even do, get a job at McDonalds or something?" She scoffed. I deflated. I had loved this woman, more than anything, since we were practically kids, and even now, this is what she thought me.

  "Or something. The point is, that I'm doing okay now, and you can be too." I turned to look at her again, but she was shaking her head.

  "You just don't get it." She snapped. "You think that all this is going to just get better if I ask for help?" She gestured to the room, which had been a clear indication that something was wrong.

  "It would be a start Erin. The alternative isn't much better." I told her, trying not to get frustrated with her. "I'd give you some money to help, but I know you'd just put it in your arm."

  Oops, that wasn't nice.

  "You have money? Like how much?" That was not the reaction I'd expect. Suddenly it was like she was seeing me for the first time. She looked me over; the expensive headphones, new phone, fresh running shoes, no holes in my hoodie.

  "Erin, I'm not gonna fuel your drug addiction." I said with finality. It was almost laughable how excited she had gotten at the prospect of me having money.

  "I promise I won't use it for drugs. I need groceries and like hygiene stuff." She said excitedly, scratching at her arm.

  "Erin, no." I told her, shaking my head. "If you actually need those things, put together a list and I'll go out and get what you need."

  "But I need like, woman products, tampons and stuff. I can get that myself." She seemed to be grasping at straws.

  "I don't mind grabbing that stuff Erin, I used to do it all the time. I'm not your other boyfriend." I told her, my face flat. It was clearly a ploy. She stared at me, panic setting in, as she thought I was getting ready to abandon her.

  "Trust me, please Dyson. I need the money. Not for drugs." She walked forward on her knees across the disgusting mattress. She begged in front of me, which was how I knew she was broken. The Erin I knew, the one I had loved, would never beg for a goddamn thing. "Dyson please."

  "Erin..." I threw my hands up and looked up at the roof. By the time I looked back down she had gone for the waistband on my sweatpants. I tried to back up and stumbled, as she pulled them down around my ankles.

  "I'll make you feel good. Remember how good the sex we had was. I'll do anything you want if you just help me out." She purred, taking on a different demeanor entirely. I scrambled across the dirty floor, backwards, on my hands. I quickly pulled my pants up and stood, my back against the door.

  "What the hell Erin?" I gasped.

  "What? Suddenly I'm not hot anymore? You used to beg me for sex all the time and now I'm not good enough?" She snarled, her personalities flipping again. And I saw her for what she was and had always been since before we even broke up. She had always been about what she could get out of me.

  "I'm not playing this game Erin. I came here to help you because you're gonna die living like this! I'm worried about you." I shouted, which probably didn't help.

  "You don't care about anyone other than yourself." She shot back. Months ago, I would have been inclined to believe her. I hadn't cared about anyone other than me, and even that was a stretch. But now, I had so many people that I cared about. Even stupid Erik.

  "You don't even know who I am anymore." I said quietly, before slamming the door behind me.