Your feet slip outwards on the wet autumn leaves as you round the corner, the cold evening air shocking your throat and lungs as you inhale deeper, faster. With each footfall a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee, ankle to knee. Perhaps jumping that wall onto stairs wasn't so smart. Your heart beats frantically, all or nothing. Fail and your whole body will pay the price, run and the damage is limited mostly to your shins and knees. You know this estate better than they do, those pigs are just pretty boys in uniform, shipped in from the nicer end of town. They're weighed down with guns and daggers, all of them useless unless they get a clear shot, which they won't.
As you turn the next corner you see a shop with a caption that says 'Undertaker ', decorated with coffins at the entrance.
'Must be a funeral shop, very fitting since if I don't get there in time I might as well be their next patient' you think to yourself while running towards your only shelter in sight.
You bursted in, making the bell above the door ring and a long silver haired individual in baggy clothes raise their head up in curiosity. You didn't have time to explain so you just hopped in the closest coffin and closed it on yourself.
As soon as you did, the doorbell rang again. You could hear the heavy footsteps and the panting of those who were after you.
There was no more running from here, your only hope was planted in the stranger that wields the shop.
'Where is that bitch? She hid in here, innit?' spat one of them in anger.
'Hehehe..' giggled the mortician. 'Only the dead come in here. Perhaps I could introduce you to some of my.. patients' he tapped his long, black nails on the coffins nearby.
'Leave the lunatic. Let's go boys, we can still catch up.' said another while rushing out the door, followed by the other two.
They were gone, you could hardly believe your ears.
You expected the stranger to drag you out by your hair angrily for the troubles you caused him but nothing happened.
You heard him sit back to his desk, continuing to write some paperwork.
Slowly, you opened the coffin and stepped out carefully. You had a (f/c) dress on and a black cloak, completely soaked at the bottom from the chase on the rainy streets. Your (h/c) hair was beautifully braided and your (e/c) eyes shone warmly in the candle lit room.
You were still trying to calm your breathing, unable to speak.
'Take a seat, darling. You can rest now.' he pointed at the chair on the other side of the desk he was sitting at.
You sat down, a bit surprised by how calm he is about this. 'Um.. I'm sorry about-' you started but were cut off by his unusual voice, he sounded like he was just toying with you.
'No need to apologize, dear. Now tell me.. Where do I take you back?' he asked politely.
In the meantime, you recovered from the so called survival mode and your senses came back to you in no time.
Only then did you realize how cold and tired you were. Your skin was way too pale and your soft lips had a tint of blue from the wind.
His question just echoed in your head.
You opened your mouth but the words didn't come out.
He was looking at you in slight confusion, though you couldn't see his eyes because of his bangs. You noticed a scar across his face but before you could make out further details about his appearance, the picture became blurry and soon everything went completely blank.
The mortician put his hand out as he saw your head drop so it wouldn't hit the desk.
'What do I do with you now?' he sighed as your forehead rested in his palm.
He gently placed you in one of his padded coffins and covered you with a soft blanket to keep you warm for the night.
After he had closed the shop he checked on you once again. You were asleep but looked like you were dead. Pale as marble and cold like a frozen chaos.
'My my.. if it weren't for that fragile little heartbeat, I could've sworn you were dead, dear.' he whispered as he ran his matte black nails across your porcelain skin.
