God of Death by Mr. Peanut

As I walk into the hallway,

my eyes wander to the innocent faces of my classmates—so calm, so joyful. Safe… for today. 

I tell myself that I’m doing the right thing. That these powers are meant to be used for good, not evil. That’s something my master has always insisted upon, something I can't let myself forget. Sometimes it’s unbearable, excruciating—bottling up this dark energy within me. I can feel it poking at the edges, trying to escape. I glance to my left and see Jenna, smiling and waving at me. Pathetic. If only she knew what she was up against, she wouldn’t be so eager to greet me. If only she knew how hard I’m retraining myself from releasing the energy and—

Bump

I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the proximity of the locker room door to my face. Ouch. That’ll definitely leave a bump. Damn it, Jenna. I knew there was something off about her. Nobody just waves and smiles at the God of Death. She must be a part of the Dark Coalition. I knew it! 

I will have to take care of that later… for now I have other pressing matters, like my P.E class. Entering the locker room, I’m immediately surrounded by obnoxious laughter and pointless conversations. I huff. How mundane, how unimaginative… I wish I could be like these idiots: chat about nothing and worry about my homework instead of the inevitable doom of the world. I try to keep a straight face but in my mind I’m always battling, always trying to appease my evil nature without letting it break out. And even if I can restrain myself— I need to always be on active lookout for the Dark Coalition. But right now the biggest challenge is changing in a room full of these innocent boys— I can’t let them see my muscular body and battle scars. I don’t need to draw more attention than necessary. I surreptitiously check to see if anyone is watching and change into my gym shorts with the speed of light. Phew. Time for volleyball. 

While most people might be excited by the prospect of playing a ball game, I, as a God of Death, can’t let myself enjoy it. I’m just too powerful for such amusements. I constantly have to keep my strength in check. If I don’t control myself, the ball might injure the fragile bodies of my classmates, and that's the best case scenario. 

—Fokker! Catch!

The room fills up with laughter upon hearing my last name. Seriously? They still can’t get used to that? I don’t find it funny at all, as it has nothing to do with profanity. Mommy says that Fokker means “breeder” in Dutch. Which… I probably shouldn’t tell anyone. It doesn’t matter in any case; my real name is God of Death after all. These human nicknames mean nothing to me.

Before I can react, the ball flies right into my face, and the boys erupt with renewed laughter. I can feel blood dripping down my face and a new bruise forming. That can only mean one thing… The guy who threw the ball is part of the Dark Coalition. There’s no other explanation! This whole time I was so preoccupied with protecting them from myself and the evil organization that I hadn't considered that the enemy might be closer than I thought! 

I will make him pay. I will show him what it’s like to mess with the God of Death. 

But first I need to see the nurse about the nosebleed and call my mommy. And then I’ll show him…