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A knock on the door, a check-up, they didn't even bother to bring him a little water or food. It's been days since anyone entered or left that room. The door is jammed, there's a corpse blocking it.
The kid...
The kid died.
It's been days since he died, it's impossible to know exactly how many days. Plagg doesn't know how. He doesn't know how he died. He doesn't know if it was hunger, dehydration, or the blow he received.
The thing is...
He died.
And it's been days since he died.
It's impossible to say how long, not even the Kwami would know. He hasn't stopped looking at the boys body since it stopped moving, since he stopped breathing and his heart stopped beating.
He knew he would die after a certain point. He stared into his eyes and made him watch as he let himself die.
He knew his father wanted to take away the little freedom he had. He preferred to die. And he let himself die!
He could be alive, he could be far from this place! But he chose to die? What did he die for?
Now the body has been taken over by maggots, flies...
RATS.
The stench reeked from the room.
Plagg didn't take his eyes off that body as if enchanted by the morbid scene. The maggots tearing the skin, tasting the cold flesh. It sickened him. It wasn't dignified, his remains shouldn't be treated this way after having died so... So dirty, so painfully. It wasn't fair to him.
Adrien was a good boy, he was good enough that he should at least have been buried. But he wasn't and apparently won't be. His body is untouchable to anyone but the maggots. The maggots seem to mock Plagg as they eat.
"I couldn't do anything. But I would have if you had asked me. You just had to ask, I was here the whole time. I would have helped you. Help me help you. Ask me for help. Beg for my help.
You stupid bo–"
— It stinks.
— You should throw it away.
A thick voice from behind him. Plagg doesn't stop staring at the corpse in front of him, he feels he can't do that. This must be so hilarious, so pathetic. So futile. His mind has been so focused on this body for nothing, but he feels it is his duty to witness this horror. It's the least he can do.
But that speech.
It's so disrespectful that it makes him want to tear the throat of whoever dared to utter it. He would. He would if he could. He can't.
The owner of that voice takes a few more steps to place herself between Plagg and the corpse. She stares at him with such irreverence, the way she moves is so relaxed and lazy that it makes him question how someone with such a youthful appearance could inspire so much dread in human hearts and minds.
She mocks the situation, finds everything hilarious. She walks from side to side to see if there's any way for this scene to become more pathetic. That's when the figure finally took the trouble to recognize the body, she knelt down to the level of the remains and started touching it as if it were a dead animal on the side of a road. Plagg doesn't care about that.
— Do you want to know what killed him?
That phrase made the Kwami finally deign to look at something more than that body.
The figure had dark skin, so delicate it looked like a newborn's. She had short, curly hair in a shade of white like moonlight, a face so angelic it seemed a sin to look at such a beautiful face. But despite these details, she had pink eyes that from a distance could be seen as blood-red, eyes that announced her arrogance to the world. She wore white clothes similar to those used in Umbanda religious events.
This was none other than Death herself.
Until then, Death doesn't seem to care about the bodies or the fire rats that appear due to the bad smell.
She could put an end to all this if she wanted to.
— Come here. Come closer, let me show you.
Death calls him close to the body.
Plagg hesitates to go, but decides it makes no difference. He remains in the same place still half-incredulous. He finally realized that he simply couldn't move, he hadn't noticed before.
Plagg was in a state of shock for days now.
Noticing this, Death just gets up and goes to Plagg with the grace of a newborn fawn, even seeing his state she does not let go of the blatant presumption on her face. She picks him up in her arms just like a cub, stroking his ears, his fur. None of this seems to pull him out of his trance. Despite the lack of a vocal reaction, Death continues stroking him.
A small purr coming from Plagg makes her think he is paying attention to what he is about to hear.
— See the vomit scattered on the floor, he didn't stop vomiting before he died, did he?
-Well, vomiting nonstop certainly made him dehydrated, but that was just a consequence of the vomiting. What do you think made him vomit?
There was no response from Plagg.
Death lifts him in her arms making him see her from above, finally looking into her eyes.
— That's right, it was the blow he received to the head. He could have gotten out alive if he had told his father. With some after-effects, yes, but I believe it's better to die than to live life as a sick person.
Plagg's eyes widen.
— Maybe he thought that before he died, or maybe he just died to have a small victory against his dad.
-Your friend is a very resentful one isn't it? But what's the use of that?
No one but himself will remember his death. Not even his body will be there to prove otherwise, the rats will have already taken it.
Death brings Plagg closer to her face. Her expression is unreadable, you can't tell if it's disgust, pleasure, or arrogance. She moves him in her hands as if he were nothing more than an animal.
— The boy will come back, and everything will be as if nothing had happened.
— Do you know why?
— You did this, kitty.
— You can stop th-
— I won't!
The power of Death can overcome any entity, any being.
Compared to her, the Kwamis are just a small fraction of power, weak enough to be handled by beings as weak as the humans she hates so much. Even knowing Plagg's inability, she still denies him help. Even so, she refuses to perform a single, meager act of kindness, not even just this once.
— You don't want me to stop.
"Wretch
This damned woman.
I hope you disappear, vanish.
Scum.
Leech.
Damned plague!
Be gone!
She is still stroking him while they both watch the corpse being consumed. He still continues to purr, Plagg wanted to be able to growl and scratch the hands with which she strokes him, maybe that would hurt that ego. But those caresses on his ears bring him calm, no matter how humiliating it is he doesn't want to lose that warmth.
— Plagg.
She called him by name for the first time since she got here.
— I can't stop thinking how tiring it is for him sometimes. Dying is not a form of liberation, it is not a punishment.
— It's just a certainty.
— And now he doesn't have that certainty, Plagg, he shouldn't have died here now, or before.
— He doesn't mind feeling pain.
— I'll let this continue.
She knelt down again in front of the body with Plagg in her arms and sat on the hard floor, from up close you could feel the stench of the corpse that was already in a state of decomposition, the stench didn't seem to bother either of them.
They watched the rats do their work.
— How long?
— What do you mean?
— How long has he been dead?
Death stared at him for a moment with a look from above, this time less arrogant. One could say there was a little genuine confusion, you could tell she had a question on the tip of her tongue
"How you don't know?" is what she was going to say.
but she didn't say what she had to say.
Ignoring all the implications of this question, she decides to just answer this time.
— It will be five days today.
Death answered him while placing one of her fingers under his forehead and making circular movements.
Even with the stench that the body gave off, no one came to see him and the corpse remains motionless. Visible only to the two of them and any other stray cat that was attracted by the smell of rotten meat.
— He will die one day.
— I promise he will.
— I will not allow a corpse to continue walking on earth when it should be buried below it.
These words do not bring any comfort.