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Summary
Matthew always knew that humans were creatures of worship. Gods, deities, anything. They craved knowing a higher power would reward them for good, and punish sin accordingly. However, he never thought that he would ever be on the other side, be worshipped himself.
The Grim Reaper, the personification of death. Ready to claim the soul of whoever was unfortunate enough.
Matthew was sickeningly lucky to be unfortunate. Surely enough, he knew his soul would be going to Hell.
He had cemented it the moment he found Death itself lapping at the side of his neck, a hunger so foreign, so desperate from anything that Matthew had experienced in his mortal life. That night, he became Death’s very own God.
Or, Matthew dies and a grim reaper comes to collect his soul. Life had fucked him over, but he was hoping Death would fuck him harder.