PART 8

J-JOE feared every second, anxiously waiting for his enemy to show himself. The longer J-JOE waited, the more likely he was to make a mistake, and this was not a situation he enjoyed. He tried to calm his nerves. The Reaper was coming, and this would not be the first time he had come to show people their makers. There would be no mistakes, nothing he missed by accident, nothing he had to explain away. There was no point in being alive if he did not go down fighting.

The Scar-Face Reaper could be there at any moment, and J-JOE would be a sitting duck.

J-JOE ran. He couldn't stay still in his house; it wasn't safe. Not since that monster was coming after him. He was the one. He was going to be the one to survive an encounter, one way or another. His foot hit the door. He didn't know if he meant to open it or push it, but he opened it. His foot stopped on the step, and the door creaked behind him.

Sprinting, half-running, the first few steps he had never taken that fast before. It didn't hurt, but it was fast and he was glad. His muscles were tight, and his muscles hurt, but he was thankful for that too. It told him he was moving. It showed he was alive. It was that thing that could kill him. He hoped his heart was beating faster than the thing's. He hoped that it wouldn't take more than a few minutes for it to reach him. He was breathing harder now, and that too, was normal, so he was moving. He was alive. It was that thing he had seen on the screen. That was the one that was looking for him.

The ground below him was moving, it was moving like it was trying to look for him. It looked at him, as if it was calling to him. He stopped, looking up at it, his head on a swivel. His eyes widened in fear. A sudden feeling of dizziness came over him, a sense of disorientation, but not a bad one, just an old-man feeling, like the sun had been in your eyes for so long you'd forgotten what it was like to have it off. He ran so hard it hurt to breathe, every breath like knives slicing his lungs.

He was getting tired. His legs ached, and it was so cold out. It was like an ice-slide he felt inside his gut. His breath had turned to ice. He was slowing. The sound of an engine in his head. He ran past the road, a thicket of trees, and turned a circle, trying to get out of its way, but there was nowhere else to go. J-JOE couldn't see very well, but he thought the thing had stopped. It stopped moving and he was safe. He felt safe. He was breathing normally again. It had taken him back to that place. He wanted to be safe, safe from what had chased him, but in his head, it had already taken him to his death.

He wanted to die not because he was suicidal, but because this was the furthest he pushed his body physically. J-JOE felt anxious, as if something was watching him; stalking him like a wolf to sheep. That thing had never left him alone. It had followed him here. It followed him everywhere, at all times, it wanted him to stop moving. He wanted to stay that way forever. He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be warm. He wanted to stay the way he had been before. He stopped, looking up at that thing that would take him from the world forever. He had never wanted to die before. He was so afraid he had never wanted to die before, but he wanted to now, so bad.

It was too far. It was too cold, he had to get out of there. The ground was moving. The cold was getting colder, as was the wind that was blowing. J-JOE knew he couldn't wait. He looked around, scanning the ground for anything that could help him. He stopped when he saw what he needed, a stick. His fingers were almost too stiff to hold it, but he pulled it from the air with a strength he did not know he had. He grabbed it, holding it in his hands like a weapon. He turned and ran. He was going to need it. His legs felt like fire, his breath felt like knives. J-JOE's eyes were wide, he couldn't stop looking. His heart was pounding in his ears, he could hear it, it was loud. His heart was beating, maybe it had never beat that fast before. He was running. It was as if he was trying to outrun death itself. Maybe if he could outrun it, he could outrun what was chasing him, maybe. If he ran faster than it could reach him.

Eventually he came across signs of life, cars stuck in traffic, people enjoying a night out on the town, and J-JOE was thrilled. The night air was cool as J-JOE ran, but it felt good on his skin. He took his camera and began to capture pictures of people walking the streets, laughing as they enjoyed the night. He kept a watchful eye, making sure to stay close to large crowds of people whenever he could. The closer to any sort of person he was, the better. J-JOE enjoyed seeing people in situations that other people didn't usually find themselves in. J-JOE wanted to see the best parts of humanity, and this was one of those parts. The best way to see things is through the eyes of another, and J-JOE was going to take in the people of the city from the unique perspective of a young journalist.

He came across a couple. J-JOE stopped to listen in on their conversation. They didn't notice J-JOE, but they should have. They were deep in each other's arms, laughing and kissing and touching each other's bodies. J-JOE felt like he was in the right place. He listened as they talked of promises and love. He heard it all, and it made him think of his own life. Would he ever feel the way that they did? Could he ever love? These two seemed to know what love was, and J-JOE could never imagine knowing that. For the life of him, J-JOE could not figure out what love was.

It made him sad to think that he was a stranger to this, but he was a stranger to so many things. He thought of the faces he had seen before, the places he had been, the people he had met and left behind. Even after all the places he had been, even after all the things he had seen, J-JOE had never felt anything. J-JOE wondered how he could feel something, but not know what it was. He wondered what it meant to him, and he wondered why he could not make himself care.

It made him sad to think that it was so easy to understand the feelings of those around him, but not his own. Why was it so hard for him to think like other people? Why did he feel like he had to be so different? It was such a strange feeling, and he did not know what to do with it. J-JOE did his best to remain distant from it, from those who felt differently than he. He would listen, he would find out the answers, but he would only hear what they wanted him to hear. He would watch and he would listen, and that was all.

Eventually, the couple moved away. J-JOE continued to take photos of people going about their business. However, J-JOE started to notice a growing sense of danger. When he reviewed his last photo, he noticed something that sent chills through his system. The Reaper was there. He was close to J-JOE, close enough to scare him, but J-JOE did not feel afraid. As he looked around, he saw other faces watching him. Some of them had been scared of him when he was running, but now they looked at him differently. They watched as he took pictures of them, the way he watched the other humans on the streets.

J-JOE felt no fear as he looked around. He knew that this was a trap, and he knew the moment that it was set. His camera clicked, and he watched as the Reaper stood, watching the crowd around him. It was a good camera. It clicked again. The Reaper moved in closer, so close that J-JOE could see him. J-JOE could see his eyes, see the fear in them. He wanted to go home, but he was a journalist. He was in the right place, and J-JOE's camera clicked again, and he had no clue that the Reaper had moved closer. His heart stopped beating for a moment, and he was frozen, unable to move. His camera was still on the person in front of him.

It was as if the Reaper only moved when J-JOE took a photo. "I'll find you, James," the Reaper said as he took a step toward J-JOE.

"I'm not going anywhere, you fucking sick fuck," J-JOE said, as he snapped off more shots.

"You're on the front page, child," the Reaper said, and J-JOE heard the click of the other cameras. He could see everything, hear everything, as the Reaper stalked J-JOE. He could smell the fear, taste the fear. The Reaper was in the air, so close J-JOE could feel his cold breath on his face.

"You will pay for taking my photo," the Reaper said as he looked down at J-JOE, and then into his eyes.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you, you fucking idiot?" J-JOE said, as he snapped another shot.

"You disrespectful little shit! Mind your manners." The Reaper smiled and moved closer. He raised his knife, and he made a show of it. "I should cut you," the Reaper said, as he moved closer, and even closer.

"Go ahead," J-JOE said, as he moved to the side. He could see the Reaper from different angles, and he knew that this was a lie. This was all a trap. He wasn't going to run, he wasn't going to leave. He was a journalist. He would stay.

"That's the spirit," the Reaper said as he moved closer. "You're in my world now. This is the price you're going to pay for being disrespectful." The Reaper started to smile, as his eyes glowed, and he laughed. "I am the fucking Reaper."

"Yeah, you are the fucking Reaper, you Ghostface looking asshole!" J-JOE said, as he stood up straight and looked the Reaper in the eyes. "But I'm here to make history! I'm here to put you behind bars." J-JOE snapped the final shot, and the Reaper raised his knife high in the air.

"I'll give you your chance, James, and I'm going to take a few liberties with you. We'll see how you like it."

The Reaper lunged at J-JOE, and then it happened. There was a moment of total silence, a total silence in which time seemed to stop, and in which no one could speak. Time stopped, and there was silence in the moment that the Reaper made contact. He was at the top of his lunge, and he took J-JOE right across his belly. J-JOE didn't feel a thing, didn't even know that it had happened. The knife came down and into him. He was a journalist, and he would do whatever it took to get the story. He stood there as the knife made contact, and then he felt it.

The knife didn't even make a sound as it made contact with his body. J-JOE felt no pain as he fell back, his body made up of more than his bones, his body made up of memories, of experiences, of emotions. J-JOE saw his mom. He saw his dad. He saw his dog. He saw a woman with two kids. He was standing there, feeling his body being pulled in many directions, until the knife made contact with his body. He had been there in the past, feeling the knife and the pain, feeling his body being torn apart and cut in many different directions. He was torn in two and his heart shattered into a million pieces. He felt the knife make contact, and it cut through him. He felt his body, and it stopped, and he felt his blood flow and stop, but it made no noise, and it made no sound. He felt his body, and it slowed, but it didn't stop, until the Reaper was finished with his work, and his job was done. He cut through his heart. He felt the pain, the pain that made him cry, that made him scream. It was the pain of love and the pain of pain. J-JOE felt the pain, and it felt so good. He stood there as he heard the Reaper cry out and then the knife went deep into J-JOE's throat. He heard the blood splatter on the table as the knife came out, but that wasn't the end of it.

He had been cut open in so many different ways, and the Reaper used all of those, and more. He felt like his organs were being pulled out of him as the Reaper tore him apart and then pulled the organs out of his body, one after the other, and he bled and bled, but it made no noise. J-JOE had survived every single moment, he had survived every step, but it was the most painful and agonizing thing that J-JOE had ever felt. He was cut open, but he wasn't dead. J-JOE felt every single moment that he had ever experienced, and it felt so good. It felt good to be alive, and it felt good to be back in the world.

He was standing there, feeling everything that he had ever felt and he couldn't say a word, he couldn't even scream or call for help. He wanted to scream out for someone to help, but he didn't know who to call. He wanted to scream and cry, but he knew that there was no one to help him, there was no one that could save him, and he knew that. He was alone. He was there, the moment was happening, and there was no one there to stop it.

But then J-JOE had his savior moment, the moment when things changed, and everything changed. A lady wearing a hoodie came and helped him. He was so glad that someone had come to help, and that someone was there to help him. He felt so much gratitude to that woman, and that woman was there, he knew it was her, but he could not see her face. Cautiously, she approached the Reaper from behind: he was still standing there, standing with his knife, with his bloody knife. She moved closer and closer. She moved in, picking up a rock from the rubble on the ground, readying herself to give the Reaper a final blow. The Reaper knew that she was there, and that she was ready to give him what he deserved. After he was attacked from behind last time, he learned to be more aware of his surroundings.

The Scar-Face Reaper was ready to die, but not to face judgment, he knew he would not have gone to heaven when he passed. He stood there, knife in hand. He was ready to die, but he wasn't ready to face his maker. He was ready to face God, he wasn't ready to face the Reaper. He waited, he was almost excited for it. The woman lifted the rock overhead, delivering a loud thunk to The Scar-Face Reaper's cranium. He fell over and then he went down, down, down, down. He hit the ground with a crack, and then he couldn't move. He could not do anything. He didn't move, he didn't speak, he was so happy, so relieved.

The woman immediately rushed towards J-JOE, to help him. She wrapped his neck in a neck brace and said "You're going to be okay, buddy, I've got you." J-JOE opened his eyes, and he was home.