The Dead Man

18

As Sarah continued her web search, Darius lay beside her, his head resting on her leg while he happily indulged in the candy she had offered. His intense red eyes followed her every move, a constant presence that both intrigued and unnerved her.
Curiously, she held up the phone to show Darius a color swatch. "Do you like this color?" she asked, seeking the hound's silent approval. In response, Darius licked her hand, causing her to hiss as his rough tongue grazed her skin. Sarah took it as a sign of affirmation and added the chosen color to her online shopping basket.
Moving on to the next task at hand, she turned her attention to the living room. With a fondness growing between them, she confided in Darius, rubbing the space between his ears. "The brown leather couch is beautiful, but those two old and dusty chairs need to be replaced," she remarked, voicing her thoughts aloud. Darius, resembling a giant puppy, offered his companionship and a sense of trust.
Giggling, Sarah playfully scolded the hound. "Azrael won't be pleased if he discovers how easily you're won over by candy," she teased, finding solace in the lighthearted moment they shared.
Resuming her search, Sarah contemplated the practicality of purchasing everything at once. "If I can find some suitable chairs, I'll pause for now. It's too overwhelming to buy everything in one go," she concluded, silently organizing her thoughts.
Suddenly, a chilling creaking sound resonated through the dark room, alerting both Sarah and Darius. The hellhound immediately stood before her, his growl taking on a dangerous tone. Sarah's heart raced as her eyes darted around the room, a sense of impending danger lingering in the air. Visions of lurking threats flashed before her, causing her to almost retch with anxiety.
In the midst of her panic, a ghastly sight unfolded. A white hand emerged from the shadows, followed by the haggard figure of an old man. Though his face was void of features, the mere outlines of his visage were visible. Bound by chains that constricted his crippled form, he hobbled forward, emitting muffled screams through his silent mouth.
Sarah's own scream erupted from her, a raw, primal sound of terror. She scrambled frantically, desperately clawing her way out of the room, driven by sheer instinct and the need to escape the haunting presence that had invaded their space.
She ran threw the halls. Darius right behind her. She stumbled around the corner trying to catch her breath.
She sprinted through the echoing halls, her heart pounding in her chest as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Darius, a relentless pursuer, trailed closely behind, his heavy footsteps reverberating in the tense atmosphere. Desperate for respite, she stumbled around the corner, her lungs gasping for precious breath.
Meanwhile, Azrael, engrossed in training the others outside, suddenly froze upon hearing her blood-curdling scream. His instincts kicked in, and he swiftly abandoned the ongoing lesson, his mind racing to assess the situation. Azrael had never intended to incite fear in her; this unexpected turn of events heightened his concern.
Ascending the stairs with purpose, he skipped two steps at a time, driven by an urgency to reach her side. In his hurried ascent, he encountered the wildly energetic figure of Crazy Anna.
Finally, he located her, huddled in a corner, clutching his loyal hellhound tightly against her trembling body. Her tear-streaked face and stifled sobs tugged at his heartstrings, aching with an inexplicable pain. This time, he wasn't the source of her anguish, but the sight of her distress fueled his determination to eradicate whatever or whoever had caused her to shed tears.
Fury welled up within Azrael, an ominous fire burning in his eyes as he vowed silently to obliterate the entity responsible for Sarah's sorrow. His mind brimmed with a righteous wrath, unyielding in its determination to shield her from harm. No force, no malevolence would be allowed to encroach upon her fragile spirit. He alone possessed the power to break her, and it would be an ill-fated endeavor for anything to even attempt it.
"Darling," he whispered softly, crouching down before her with a mixture of concern and apprehension in his eyes. His hands moved cautiously, reaching out to touch her knee, but her body tensed in response, instinctively seeking solace by burying her head closer to Darius, seeking refuge in the presence of her loyal companion.
"It's me, darling," he continued, his voice filled with a tender plea, trying to bridge the emotional gap that had formed between them. Yet, her tears flowed even more freely, her distress evident in every sob that wracked her fragile frame. He didn't love her and he scared her even though she wasn't in a good mood. Azrael's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger piercing through his normally composed demeanor. 
"Enough with this attitude," he snarled, his grip tightening on her knee with a force that bordered on cruelty. Her whimper of pain pierced the air, her fear intensifying as she worried that her knee might shatter under his unyielding grasp. In that moment, she felt trapped and vulnerable, yearning for a reprieve from the torment that had consumed her.
"You scared me and you don't even love me." She cried trying to pull her leg away from his touch. She pushed herself deeper in the corner.
The weight of her words settled heavily upon Azrael's shoulders, piercing through the anger.
"I didn't say I didn't love you," he replied, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Her tearful sobs continued, her hands trembling as they covered her face.
"No, but you didn't say you did," she managed to choke out amidst her tears, her voice filled with anguish.
"You caught me off guard, darling," he reassured her, his head gently resting against her cheek. "But you caught yourself off guard too, I saw it in your eyes. You ran before I even had a chance, didn't you?"
Guilt washed over her, and she looked down, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "Sorry."
"It's alright, darling," he whispered, his lips tenderly kissing her forehead. "I love you, darling," he murmured, his words creating a comforting warmth that enveloped her.
Her heart fluttered at his confession, and her eyes met his with a sparkle of joy, mirroring the twinkle in his gaze.
"Now, what did you pick out?" he asked, his attention shifting to the phone in her hands.
"I chose this paint and these chairs. The others I want to buy later," she explained, revealing the items in her online shopping basket.
he inquired, "What scared you?"
"The A-archives," she revealed, her voice filled with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.
"Ah, the keeper of the archives. That is John. He isn't harmful; he's just there to scare anyone who doesn't belong in the archives," he explained, his voice laced with a hint of familiarity and reassurance.
Sarah's tears began to subside as his words sank in, her fear gradually dissipating. She listened attentively, grateful for his calming presence and the insights he provided.
"He's meant to protect the knowledge within those walls," he continued, his tone soothing. "John takes his role seriously."
A glimmer of intrigue replaced Sarah's previous apprehension as she absorbed his explanation. The mysteries held within the archives beckoned to her, whispering secrets and possibilities.
"I see," she replied, her voice steadier now.