My Dirty Little Secret

Secret Seventy: Fury

The Undertaker kicked the door to the Phantomhive manor down. Vincent wasn't responding to any of his messages, nothing. Needless to say he was rather annoyed. Where was that jerk hiding? Didn't they agree Vincent's life belonged to him? They'd made a pact, a promise. Ciel was no where to be found either, like the two had never existed in the first place.

The silver-haired male attacked every piece of furniture he could find, trying to find some clue as to what happened. Nothing was making itself known. Frustrated, confused, angry, he continued his search. There had to be something. Vincent had to have left some clue. 

Drawer after drawer, piece by piece, still nothing. The Undertaker wasn't even finding out any juicy information on Vincent in his search. The only thing he had managed to find was a little black box, in the kitchen. There was nothing else in the entire drawer, just this box. Opening it he saw a ring, nothing fancy just a band. The Undertaker wanted to barf, destroy it, burn it. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the band from Vincent and Rachel's wedding. 

He took the ring out from the box and examined it. It didn't seem like Vincent's size...was this actually Rachel's old ring? Why would he hold on to this piece of trash? The Undertaker wanted even more to destroy it now, until he noticed an inscription on the inside.

For Uny <3

The Undertaker gasped and dropped it, cursing himself silently for being so stupid. The ring fell and rolled underneath the nearby oven. The Undertaker laid on the floor, cursing himself more. How was he going to get his only clue back? He tried to poke his fingers underneath the oven but they weren't long enough to reach it. He could almost hear the laughter of Vincent, or at least he would have, had the guy not disappeared without a trace.

"This is absolutely the worst day of my life," he muttered, still attempting to reach the ring. He couldn't do it, but he found a paper clip. Unfolding the clip he just barely brushed the ring, groaning he tried once more. It took some time to convince the little guy to actually come out of hiding, but The Undertaker had successfully done it.

The silver-haired man decided perhaps he should wear the ring, considering it was only going to collect dust or get lost again somehow. He tried to put it on but it wouldn't fit on any of his fingers, except one. 

"What the fuck," The Undertaker stared in awe. Vincent had intended to propose. Naturally, why else would he have this boring ring?! The Undertaker facepalmed, how could he be so stupid? His concern for Vincent had made him lose sight of the obvious, naturally, it's all his fault! Vincent should have just told him what was wrong! He wished he could ask Vincent all of these questions he had, but he couldn't, just another painful reminder that Vincent wasn't here.

How could he have had this ring but disappear? Not exactly the most romantic of proposals...

The Undertaker understood the man even less now, which only made him smile. In the very least, Vincent never ceased to surprise. He looked inside the ringbox, wondering if there was any other sort of hidden secrets inside. He found a slip of paper, with the single word 'matchbox.'

Matchbox? What does that mean? 

The Undertaker thought long and hard about the meaning behind this word.

The only conclusion he came up with was Vincent's suicide attempt. The Undertaker remembered it clearly, was Vincent trying to die again? No, that wasn't allowed. Slamming his fist down on the table, The Undertaker glared at the air. He wanted to yell, to scream, to destroy something, but he didn't. He heard footsteps of someone in the house. Someone that wasn't Vincent, Ciel, or even Sebastian for that matter. He rushed out of the kitchen and followed them.

"You," he spat, the silver-haired male ran towards the woman, wrapping his hands around her neck he pinned her against the wall. The Undertaker glared down at her shaking self. She coughed, gagged, tried to claw his hands off of her. The Undertaker didn't care if she died but he needed the information.

"What are you doing here, Rachel?" he demanded to have the answers he was looking for.

"I'm here to get a few things, for Ciel, to make his stay more comfortable," she forced out, her words breaking up. It was difficult to breathe with an angry person's hands around your neck.

"Ciel? What have you done to him? Where is Vincent?" he asked. She didn't answer, or she couldn't anyway, since she was so concentrated on breathing.

"He....didn't...tell...you?" her eyes widened a bit, she thought for sure The Undertaker would have known. No, thinking about it now, it was just like Vincent to keep things to himself.

The Undertaker was so focused on the person in front of him, that he didn't realize the second one behind him. Grabbing him from behind, a male's arm wrapped around his neck, holding him at an awkward angle. The Undertaker was now in his own uncomfortable situation. Gasping for air and struggling to get away, he was stuck there, in the arms of someone he couldn't see. 

Rachel gagged and caught her breath, she rubbed her neck, trying to get the feeling of hands off of it. She looked towards The Undertaker, in a state of complete panic, not for herself, but for him.

"No, don't, don't do it!" she called stretching her arm out. Her body wouldn't move fast enough to save him. 

The Undertaker didn't know why Rachel called, but he suddenly felt a pinch in his neck, a needle? The Undertaker's vision blurred and his mind slipped away as the foreign object injected its liquids into his bloodstream.

The Undertaker lost consciousness to the sound of a woman sobbing.

Rachel, crying, for him.

What a strange feeling.