A Black Butler FanFic by DIDDUMS

Sebby

I was little when I started dreaming strange dreams. I dreamt that in the night, a demon visited me. She had long, inky, flowing hair and pallid skin. She wore a black suit and hundreds of bracelets on one thin wrist.

She came to my window and watched me as I slept.

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[5 YEARS LATER--SEBBY IS 14]

"Sebby! Come in for breakfast, dear!" my mum shouted in her thick cockney accent. 

I groaned and pulled my sheets off myself. My back ached from sleeping on the floor again. We lived in a run-down flat in the East End, me and my mum. Light filtered in through the broken window at my side. I pulled myself into some ripped trousers and a ratty, knitted jumper that my mum had knitted. I felt itchy. I scratched my head, messing up my long, scraggy hair. 

Then I walked, rubbing my eyes, into the kitchen.

Mum must have been up for hours. She had dark circles under her eyes again. Her dress was creased and ripped. She was standing barefoot with a small bowl of dry oats in her hand, smiling.

Thankfully and hungrily, I grabbed the bowl off her and began devouring the oats with my bare hands. Mum laughed.

"You little greedy pig!" she cried.

"Mmmfmfmf," I said, smiling a cheeky smile.

When I'd finished, I left to find some lunch on the streets.

It was dirty and noisy in this end of town. Boys like me swarmed everywhere, hungry and desperate. Grown-ups shouted for people to buy their wares. And we snuck behind people and took their wallets from their back pockets. 

I went to the market after about an hour, with a good amount of money in my pocket. I bought sweet fruit and salty nuts and fluffy bread. Then I ran home and barged in through our rickety door.

"Mum, I'm home!" I shouted.

A croak came from the next room.

"Sebby..."

I ran in. 

And my mum was on the floor, blood seeping out of her chest. 

I had no time to think. I ripped my jumper off and balled it up onto her chest. Then I went to the bucket of water in the kitchen and carried it over to her. 

"Okay mum, it's okay, you'll be fine. Can you drink?"

She shook her head weakly, her eyes half closed. 

That was how my mother died.

I sat with her for hours, too shocked and sad to cry. Everything was numb. I couldn't think. I just sat with her, because that felt like the only thing to do.