A/N: I came up with this idea while doing a project for world history and a book report at the same time (three guesses what the projects were on). I was saddened and inspired by the Atomic Shadows and wondered what Death thought about them. I am sorry for the short length, and I hope you enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: Is my name Markus Zuzak? Well, it wasn't five minutes ago, so I kind of doubt it is now.

"Worse than Heaven"

I went about the next few years thinking that there was nothing worse than Himmel Street. Nothing worse than hearing Leisel scream for her Papa and her Mama and her Rudy. Nothing worse than knowing that I held everything that gave her life meaning in my arms.

I cared - and still do care - very much about the Book Thief.

And then, It happened. I felt It like a thousand strings, a thousand souls, pulling my being to them. So I went. And I did something that I had never done before, in all the billions of years I had existed.

I stopped.

I stopped and I looked at the utter waste that was left of Hiroshima. The buildings were rubble on the ground, lying in chalky peices. I could feel the lingering heat from the blast, and the radiation pinching at my skin.

But the worst was the people.

Sometimes I hate humans. This was one of those times.

The people were charred and blackened stiff, screams forever burned onto their faces. Some were shadows, souls without any body to cling to because it had been vaporized by the bomb.

There were some that were still alive, torured, screaming, living in misery. I wanted to rip their unwilling souls from their bodies to save them from their own nerves. But that would break rules that are eons old, and I can't do that.

I walked around slinging the adults over my shoulder and cradling the children in my fingers. Both the alive and dead were screaming in sorrow and pain. An icy hand squeezed my heart until it bled blood laced with pity and anger. But the dead did not inspire my rare emotion, no; my sympathy went to the living. The mothers with no babies to nurse, the daughters with no father to walk them down the aisle, or threaten their first boyfriend, the children with no friends left to play with.

The humans who had nothing left but the scraps of their own humanity.

Your humanity is the most terrifying thing in the world.

I spent days sorting through the dead and coming back for the injured. Many were sitting up, eager to leave their world, newly filled with pain and suffering. But even with them calling to me, reaching for me, throwing themselves into my arms, there were always more.

Just as I was lifting a charred girl, still beautiful in spirit, if not in body, into the crook of my elbow, the thousand strings pulled again. I was jerked to Nagasaki, now Hiroshima's twin in destruction and death.

I stopped and did something new.

***WHAT I DID***
I cried.

My wails echoed, silent, through the streets. Their immortal sound of pain mixed with the cries of the dying and mourning. My tears fell alongside those of the abandoned survivors, hissing on the poisoned soil.

I cried for the innocent and the guilty, the young and the old, the good and the evil, because they are all the same to me once they're dead: lost, scared, and relying on me to guide them.

I had told myself that there was nothing worse than Himmel Street. I was wrong.

This was worse than Heaven.

A/N: I hope you ejoyed (and if you cried I am very happy, but not in a mean way). Please review, I would like to become a better writer, but I only can if I'm told where I'm lacking. Thank you so much.