Grim was once a boy. Once. Now he is the right hand of Death himself. He has no name, no past. None he can remember. None he cares to remember. Until one day he meets a girl. A girl who changes everything.
Maybe writing all of this down was a mistake. But someone had to know. Someone living, because you know, people only write these things for one reason. One reason only. You read them and wonder what happened. But you know. You always know. The endings the same, even if there is no ending. When the words cut off mid-story. When the story grinds to a halt. You sit there and read their life story and you wonder, what got them?
And your sitting here and you're wondering, what got him?
Now here's where things get tricky.
You could have guessed that. In fact, I'm sure you did. But the fantastic, magnificent, sick thing is I was already dead before. I've been dead for a long time.
Now that I have your attention, you may be wondering who I am. What my name is. Well, the thing is, I don't know my name. I lost it a long time ago. Forgotten like so much mental debris. I guess, it wasn't important back then, back when....back when I barely knew what human felt like.
I don't know who I am. I only know what I was. So you can call me Grim.