I had never seen his face. It was always hidden underneath the hood of his long black cloak. He was a tall dark figure, always hiding in the dark alleys. I knew he watched me all the time. In my mind, I called him Trauma.
I never saw his expressions, but I could feel his emotions. His scythe was enough to convince anyone to run away from him; but not me. Instead of fear, it brought comfort to my mind. As I walked home from work I could feel Trauma following me. He followed me everywhere. He never walked, instead, he floated around, the scythe held firmly in his hand. Sometimes, I’d look back and smile at him. I didn’t know what was on his mind but I knew he would never harm me.
He could pass through walls. I didn’t have to open the door for him or welcome him into my house. He simply passed through the wall. Every time I went to bed at night he would watch over me. Every morning when I woke up I would see him watching me. Somehow, it didn’t creep me out. Instead, I felt safe.
In the back of my mind, I knew Trauma was a deadly creature. He was the angel of death. He was a reaper. I had often wondered why I was the only human who could see him. Was my time almost up? If I was called tonight, how would I want to leave? What would be the last thing on my mind?
Each day I made sure that I didn’t leave any unfinished business for tomorrow. I spent it as it was the last day of my life, but Trauma never called out to me.
I went through three near-death experiences and it became clear. Trauma was not trying to take me but instead, he was watching out for me. I was glad I had him around. No matter how scary a reaper was for a normal person, it was never the same for me. He treated me with care and respect but I always knew at some point he will have to stop protecting me and call me to rest. On that day I will be ready. I will be ready because Trauma is my friend and it would be an honour to hold his hand.