Here is a small fact: You are going to die.

In all truthfulness, I'm not going to try and depress you with this topic. Although the story I am going to tell is surrounded by death, there is a small pearl of happiness to it. Fear death all you want, but you cannot shake the inevitability. Even the strongest will falter. I will be as cheerful as possible, no matter what you choose to think. Just trust me. You don't trust me? Contrary to what most people think, I can be agreeable and affable. Amiable. And those are just the A's. Let's not dwell on the point that I do not have a heart.

Oh, yes, I guess I should begin with an introduction. Where are my manners? I could go through the whole lecture, but that would bore you to tears. Literally. My advice is to read on, or just look deeper as it is not hard to figure out my identity. You know enough. Soon, before most would know it, we will meet, as I take you in my arms while you are lying down, or in some cases, freezing. That's when the introductions begin.

As I continue this drabble, getting farther and farther from the point at hand, you are probably wondering why I am writing this. And why would you care to read it? A fair question. The simple answer?

To distract myself.

Distraction is the one thing that keeps me sane. I'm not one of those people that can just give everything up and head for the horizon. I cannot leave my job, ever; immortally chained to a post. That's the real depressing part. Did I really just call myself a person?

I guess the original draw to them was their ability to take life in their own hands. To do something for them. Something I could never do. Something I wish I could do. Always. Anyways, who would ever do something for a guy like me? Not a human at least. No, no, their hearts have turned to lead, except the handful of exceptions.

Fine, continue with these questions. I do not mind. The big question, who is them? You will find out.

Why do you stay with this job? The fact is, there is no one to replace me. No one can step in and let me take a break in your typical vacation spot. As much as I would like a tropical paradise or a snow strewn countryside, those are two of the many things I cannot have. And what if no one did the job? Well then, who would hold you in their arms?

And the final question: Why do I need a vacation? What do I need a distraction from? Who am I?

Which brings me to my next point. It's the leftover humans. The survivors. They're the ones I can't stand to look at. I try to distract myself, but it's the few I witness who were left behind, left with their hearts falling apart like a broken jigsaw puzzle of despair, haunting, and memories. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.

Which in turn brings me to the story I am going to tell you. Stop with the questions. Let's just get to it. I'm quite sure you are familiar with the tale, so I will not fill you with the background. Come, grab some popcorn, make yourself comfortable. Don't look so dismal. I will now tell the story of the one I took by the hand.

*****

How should I begin?

That was the last time Titanic ever saw daylight. No, that's too early for this story and much too optimistic. I've got it.

The screams could be heard from all directions, albeit the worst had not started. I was running around frantically, yet gracefully, picking up the weak and throwing them over my shoulder. Sometimes, even the strong collapsed. So much for that break. The pain and worry was etched on all of their faces. Even the survivors would be forever scarred with the feeling.

I stood next to the few men who were playing music. The slow, melodic notes penetrated inside of me. Their bravery lifted my spirits until it was crunched by the next atmosphere I saw.

The cruelness of some really hit me. The fact is rather amusing, considering I do not have a heart, but nonetheless I felt a pang of guilt as I gently picked up the small, powerless girl. She had a life to live, and could not have been more than seven. I had to pry her tightly clenched hands from the bars that had separated her from hope. Her sodden dress clung to her body like a baby on a mother's leg.

This fact just increased my fear for humans. If they were willing to sacrifice the life of a small child, I do not want to know the bounds of their capabilities. I found out years later that humanity barely existed any longer. But that is another story.

Back to the matter at hand, while looking down at the limp brown curls of the little girl, I came to the conclusion that I am scared of humans. Fine, you caught me. It's not like it was an unknown theory. Who wouldn't be scared of them? I guess it's just not expected from the one who takes them away, the one thought to murder without question.

Dwelling on the innocent would never make my job easier. I do my best not to think of what I am doing as I do it. It's the only way that I keep my sanity, if at all. As I guided her, I gave her my best and set her free to the angels. It was where she belonged.

I tried to ignore the others I took. Each was a soul that could have accomplished something great. All right. No more what if's. What happened, happened, and I have absolutely nothing in my power to stop it. Well, minus one small deed, but that could only be done once an eon or so. You never want to mess with fate too much.

The night seemed endless. If you want me to be specific, the morning seemed endless. Through the hours, the screams got louder. The stars shone above, beckoning to those still alive. A shooting star flashed across the sky. A soul going to heaven, if, of course, you believe that kind of stuff.

I do.

And now you are wondering when I will actually start the story you have been waiting for. I know that I tend to rant, and I am really working on it. Let's flash forward to the ship's final moments.

Catching my breath, I hovered by the water, the wind blowing through my cloak; a new sensation. As the ship continued its descent into the Atlantic, I swiftly dove after each fallen body, leading them on the path. I started to wonder when the job would end, even though the ship hadn't completely submerged yet.

The seconds dragged on and the people left on the ship reached into the two digit numbers. The seconds came to an almost standstill until finally, the great unsinkable ship could no longer be seen.

Time stopped, and the screaming subsided for the smallest moment. The freezing beings in the lifeboats, wrapped up in their blankets, watched in horror as their loved ones disappeared, never to be seen again. Even the few floating in the water quieted their cries for the boats to come back.

Finally, a small number of those left broke the surface, and all hell broke loose again. The constant cries for help, the pain-morphed faces returned. I knew I had to continue with my job. The cold took over most of them as the morning wore on. They tried to hold on. Seeing their hope drained straight from their soul was not something I would wish to see again.

The ocean started quieting down. The deaths became less frequent and farther between. This was not due to their rescue. It was simply because most had already perished.

And then, silence. Most were dead, and the cries for the boats had completely discontinued. I floated over to perch on a small piece of driftwood, watching the aftermath. It was not something usually done. Most times I leave a tragedy right after the job was done, but the whole spectacle both intrigued and frightened me. A few short minutes passed, and I heard a noise. It sounded human, like talking. It was barely audible, but I heard the noise just fine.

I feel very self-indulgent right now, telling you about me, me, me. My travels, what I saw in 1912. On the other hand, you are a human. You should understand self-obsession. Even you are not innocent.

I turned my head towards the voice I had heard. I saw two humans, both alive, but barely. One was lying on a door, clutching the hands of the other, who was submerged in the water.

Then I heard the three words that have always been my worst enemy. "I love you." The words that were uttered before death, and they always haunt me.

My job went on hold as curiosity got the better of me. By the looks of it, they were two lovers, torn apart by, to some extent, me. Death.

For the first time in my life (if you could call it that), I felt a twinge of guilt for tearing them apart. But there was nothing I could do. I do not cause them to die. I only carry their souls beyond. I stayed there, trying to ignore them, but my fatal flaw, curiosity, got the better of me. I floated over to the door.

I knew that neither of the two could see me watching, but I felt that they had maybe noticed my presence, for their conversation stopped, if you could call it a conversation. They seemed to sense my presence. You ever get that random shiver feeling? That would be me. I cannot be seen, but I can be felt at certain times.

But then the talking started again, and my fear subsided. Their exchange of words returned my feeling of guilt. I knew one had to die. I floated, waiting for the inevitable.

I listened dejectedly as the boy, the one in the water, spoke. He knew that he was going to die, yet he was still not thinking of himself. Maybe humanity did have a chance from crumbling away. "You must do me this honor...promise me you will survive...that you will never give up...no matter what happens...no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise."

She stared deep into his eyes, letting him know that what she said was meant with true sincerity. "I promise."

"Never let go." He barely croaked out the words. The cold was beginning to dominate over love.

"I promise. I will never let go, Jack. I'll never let go." The promise was made. She was going to live.

I stared at the spectacle before me as I lost track of time. I occasionally had to leave to pick up another soul, but something kept drawing me back to the star-crossed lovers.

I heard another noise in the distance, someone shouting. A blinding light flashed by. The boats, or should I say boat, had come back. I glanced over at the couple who were still clinging on to each other. Neither had yet to let go of life, but I could tell the boy, Jack, was close. He was unconscious.

The girl opened her eyes and looked straight up at the sky. Trying to hold onto life, she started singing a soft lullaby. It seemed as if the song held a special meaning to her, and probably the boy, too. I closed my eyes and listened.

"Come Josephine, in my flying machine..." She turned her head towards the flashing lights, illuminating in the darkness. To her it sounded like the call for survivors was a whisper in the distance. Her senses were dulled, the cold almost completely numbing her body. Absentmindedly, she stared at the boat that had come back, as if she didn't realize that she had a chance to live.

And so did Jack. His body had gone into shock, but he was a survivor. I kept waiting for the moment when I would have to deliver him, as much as I dreaded it, but the moment never came. He, however, was in a deep state of unconsciousness and it would take more than shaking his arm to wake him.

Exactly the same mistake that Rose made. No one could really blame her. The cold does strange things that make people have a hard time thinking clearly. She tried calling his name. She tried shaking his hand, but he wouldn't awaken. The severity of what might be true set in on her so quickly that she didn't think to check his pulse or something of that variety. Then she would have instantaneously known that there was hope.

She laid her head down on the wood, set on staying there to die. I don't know what went through her head, but it must have had something to do with the promise that she had made earlier, for she softly whispered into the night. "Come back." It was barely a croak.

And then she found a store of newfound energy. Using the strength of her promise, she sat up, and tried to yell louder at the boat getting consistently farther away. It was a valiant effort, but just not enough to catch the officer's attention.

I wanted to yell out for the boat to come back, and the fact that I am not human came back to bite me yet again. I can only be heard by the dead.

Rose, still believing Jack to be dead, came to a spontaneous decision. It was either break her promise and stay with him, or live out her promise and let him go. She did exactly what I thought she would do. Let him go. Not at all am I saying that this was the wrong decision. Quite the contrary. If I was in her place, as awkward as that would be, I would do the same thing. But I would have had the presence of mind to check for a pulse.

Jack was still clinging to life, something I admired. He wasn't doing it consciously, but there was a spirit that he seemed to possess, a…how should i put it? He was a natural born survivor? No. I can't seem to place it.

But that small essence of life that he grasped would not last for long if he was plummeting down to the icy bottoms of the North Atlantic Ocean. With a "I will never let go," Rose tentatively dropped him to sink into the depths.

Oh, shit! Don't cry! Don't cry! Crap, I did it. I did the unthinkable. Death, thought to be the ominous scary grim reaper, just cried. Obviously, there is punishment.

The life left his body, and the emotion from the whole night just crashed down around me. I am literally a heartless person, but not in the emotional sense. A single teardrop started to fall down my face.

A whistle blew, no doubt due to Rose. I dived down into the depths to pick up the body. Even though I could not feel cold, the ice-etched features on his face gave away that hypothermia was probably the main cause for his demise. The body was limp.

The tear was about to leave my face, and I knew what was about to happen. Death's tears are the single thing that can revive a person from the dead. Sure, I will be tortured. I'm not supposed to do anything like that. It's not like that stops me, though.

By now the boat had come back, and Rose was being helped into it. I admired her perseverance.

The tear landed on Jack's frozen face just as I floated to the boat's location. We were both invisible, at least at that moment. In another few, Jack's body would materialize to the human eye. I set him down in the back, an area where the people were not currently watching. It would be hard enough for him to explain how he got there, let alone why he seemed to be materializing from nothing.

Just briefly before I left to pick up the last remaining bodies, he made eye contact with me. Those piercing blue eyes—even I was intimidated. But they were not scary. Rather, they were curious. Enough of me had been revealed. I disappeared.

*****

There weren't any more souls to visit, and yet I was again drawn to the two lovers that afternoon.

She waited for something, anything to go right for her. Cal had come and gone, and she was continuing to worry that something would prevent her from living the life she wanted. Having the love of her life and her freedom both taken away might be too much.

Her eyes were playing tricks on her. Yes, that was it. She did not see the blond-haired man that had changed her life smoking next to the rail. There wasn't just one third class man who had blond hair and a handcuff on each wrist.

Oh, wait...there was only one. Taking a deep breath, she blinked once to make sure it was not a figment of her imagination. No, he was still there. Shakily, she got up and took the slowest steps possible towards the man.

"Mind if I take a drag?" Rose didn't want to make the mistake of thinking it was a different person, although unlikely, so she took the polite conversation approach.

"Sure," replied the too familiar tone. Rose turned her head and was met by the blue eyes that she had fallen in love with all those days before.

She didn't say a word. Jack was the first one to even acknowledge the contact. "Rose?" Shyly, she nodded her head. "Rose!" Catapulting her into an enormous hug, he thanked all above that he had found her. He thanked...me.

I was standing there awkwardly behind Rose. I swear that Jack caught my gaze as I looked at the joyful reunion. Ever so slightly, he smiled, tears streaming from his eyes.

I had forgotten that those I revive can still see me when they are brought back to life. Someone appreciated me. Someone actually was grateful for something I did.

Those moments. Those small moments are the reasons why I still have emotions.

I will be tortured. I will be punished. It was worth it.

The End.

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