You couldn't fall asleep knowing he's still down there. You waited for hours in complete silence to hear him coming up the stairs and finally enter his room, but he didn't, which made you feel strangely uneasy.
What the bloody hell is he still doing down there?
That was it, you are going after him, you thought as you threw off the soft blanket that kept you warm.
You rushed downstairs only to find the place dark and empty.
'Undertaker?' you called out his name, hoping he would answer from somewhere but he didn't. Only your desperate voice echoed through the place and found it's way back to the hole you called a heart.
Without thinking, in the next moment you stripped out of your nightgown, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you naked, soul and body.
Now the coldness inside matched the coldness outside.
You rushed back upstairs to look for an outfit more suitable than a nightgown or even a dress, since you were planning to go out. Was it to find him?
You didn't know exactly.. but you couldn't stay here that was for sure.
You didn't find any pants, only dresses and work attire but you were a creative thinker so you took a black pantyhose that was thick enough not to be see-through and borrowed one of Undertaker's white shirts, tying it at your waistline with one of his belts so it looked more like a dress. You hopped into your black boots and decided to wear your charcoal black cloak on top of it all. You checked on the shop one more time to be sure of his absence and with that you stepped out and locked the door behind you.
Nighttime twists back around again, children are tucked in, gangsters walk. Darkness brings the primal nature to the fore, a heady trance for these men who crave dominance and power. They stalk among the thrill seekers, the party goers, faces set to a underscored snarl. After sunset each person is either a player or a nobody. The sensible pray to stay without a name, because once a person gets one it's only a matter of time before it's called.
At every corner, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You were afraid, but being outside knowing anything could happen also filled you up with sweet adrenaline, your favorite poison.
As you stopped to look around something red caught your attention on a rooftop but before you could figure out what it was, it was out of sight. The next minute a wicked laugh came from the same area and you started to follow it from god knows what reason.
By the time you got there it was quiet with a man on the ground with a deadly wound. You stared, unable to move, as blood gushed from his stomach. Then you came back to life and ran to his side. 'Hold on for little longer, sir. I might be able to help you.' you whispered, feeling the blood soak Undertaker's white shirt on you.
'Don't bother, little lady. His time has come.' said a sharp voice from behind you.
You turned to face the individual, your hand still on the poor man's wound, pressing it down.
The man had long, dark-red hair, shark-like teeth, and red-framed glasses, but he looked rather womanly, almost attractively feminine.
'I'm sorry but who are you to decide that for him?' you asked in slight disbelief that he was still just standing there and watching him die instead of helping.
'I am not the one to decide, but it is my job to collect his soul.' he grinned while flashing his chartreuse phosphorescent eyes. Eyes that were familiar from somewhere but your mind was occupied by his words for the moment.
'Excuse me? Collect his soul?' you said, almost on a laughing tone.
'You heard me well, dear. Now if you don't move, I'll have to reap yours too.' he said while lifting a highly destructive, roaming machine in the air and landing it in the wounded man, pushing you aside.
Movie records flew up in the air as you just sat there, shocked to the bone. He stood next to the body, observing the restlessly rolling records then with one swoop cutting them off and putting them away from my sight.
Okay, what just happened. You finally managed to gather yourself up from the cold, wet pavement and continued to stare at the stranger in the red coat.
'Don't misunderstand me, sweetie. It's nothing personal. His death was written in the book, can't change that.' he shrugged.
'R-Right..' you tried to process. 'Just what are you?'
'I'm a grim reaper, dear.' he said indifferently, like it was something normal. '..but you look like bloody mess.' he scanned you over with his flamboyant eyes. 'Wait a second, are you even wearing pants?' he gasped as your cloak was no longer covering your frame. It fell off in the mud as you rushed to the man but you didn't notice back then.
Your face flushed pink as you realized your were wearing nothing more but a black pantyhose now torn apart at your knees and a white shirt, now red, tied at your waist. 'You weren't supposed to notice..' you said in embarrassment.
'What can I say, I have a real good eye for women's clothing. Although I must admit, dressed like that, you look ravishing my dear. Red suits you.' he complimented you to your surprise.
'It suits you better.' you complemented right back, red sure was his color.
'Oh honey, I know.' he smiled confidently. 'Though I'm afraid if I leave you alone, I'll find you destroyed in the next alleyway and I don't want any overtime so let me walk you home.'
You just nodded in agreement and showed him the way. Amazed by the fact he was willing to do so.
You were only a few houses away when he suddenly stooped.
'Where do you live exactly, love?'
