Ever stood in the cramped hospital ward. He carried the scythe in the crook of his arm. Did it feel heavier than usual today?

  A severe looking doctor in a stiff, white coat stood to the side. Ever walked up to him. He was young, maybe five years older than Taylor was. The pressure of saving lives wasn’t strong enough to line his face… yet. He wasn’t saying anything; the conversations had been had weeks prior with the others in the room.

  Ever stepped carefully, looking at each person. Mother, sitting on the chair pulled up against the bed, sheets clenched in white-knuckled fists. Father, hands behind his back, looking out the window, watching a plane flying in the distance. Lastly, grandmother, sitting on the other side of the bed. She hugged something close to her chest, wrapped up in a checkered cloth.

  Lying in the bed was Celeste, eyes closed. Her monitor’s slow, regular beep was punctuated by the mother’s sobbing.

  “Mrs Fontana, I can come back if you’d like,” the young doctor said quietly.

  “No,” Mr Fontana said. “It’s time.” He turned away from the window, coming to his wife’s side. He lay his hands on her shoulders.

  “She would still be with us if you’d spent more time at home!” Celeste’s mother shrieked, jolting away from him.

  “Maria, please,” her father said, reaching towards her again imploringly. “You know that this is not what I wanted. Please don’t leave, Doctor.” The young doctor had mumbled something about visiting other patients, but Celeste’s father’s request rooted him to the spot. “We shouldn’t put this off any longer.”

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  All the while, Celeste’s grandmother hugged the wrapped up item to her chest tighter, also gripping a cross in her fingers. She was rocking slightly, eyes closed, muttering a prayer under her breath.

  Humans love praying for things they can’t get, Death said. Ever could practically see him shaking his head. The gods have enough on their plate, they’re not there to grant wishes like some sort of sky genies.

  Ever was only half listening to his mentor. He watched Celeste and felt desperately helpless. The girl he saw was the same one that everyone in the room could see. Her body still protected her soul.

  “I’m sorry, I really do have to stop her life support now. I’m happy to come back -”

  “Celeste my darling,” the grandmother said. She had let go of the crucifix around her neck and was now holding her granddaughter’s hand. “Nonna’s made you your favorite meal. Tomatoes from the tree we planted when you were bambina, remember?” She pulled the knot at the top of the bundle she had been holding, revealing a container of spaghetti bolognaise.

  “Do it now, doctor,” her father ordered.

  “Peter, no!” Maria screamed. “You’re going to kill her!”

  “She’s gone!” Peter shouted. “The moment she took the drug, she was gone!”

  Nonna had pushed the spaghetti towards her granddaughter, wrapping Celeste’s arm around it.

  “Come home, darling,” she croaked, bowing her head.

  The doctor wordlessly flicked some switches, hesitated, then pressed a final button.