Kill Grell

Chapter 3: Four Years Later

"I cant believe he's still alive after all this time, he's a truly remarkable fellow."

"Very handsome too, I wouldnt mind crawling in that bed with him."

"Mary! Really now! Dont be so leacherous!" The nurse slapped her co-worker with the clipboard and the two left, leaving the window open behind them by accident.

The silence of the room was suddenly broken by the soft mewl of a black cat, who jumped down from the window ledge to explore its surroundings, it seemed most interested in the man who lay like a beautiful statue in the bed.

The cat jumped on the bed and began pawing at the mans face, which was completely perfect, not even a scar. The cat was happily nuzzling away at this dark angel...but got the fright of its life when the man sat bolt upright, his eyes flashing purple.

"This is me at my most masochistic...and deadly efficient."

The death scythe came screaming down onto his face, he could feel it slicing through his skull... Then everything went black and he could feel nothing at all

 

 

Suddenly, his eyes shut open and he shot upwards.

"Grell, where's my Boccha-"

He stopped, he looked around, he was most suprised to find he was no longer in the blood-splattered chapel, the face of his enemy smiling above him.

He was in a grey,drab hospitol room sitting in a small bed. He wasn't wearing his bullet-ridden butler uniform instead he wore a white hospitol gown.

His hands went to his face, his features had returned to their smooth sharpness instead of being swollen, bleeding and broken from numerous beatings from his assailants.

His head was suprisingly intact having been sliced open in such a gruesome manner, but his hair had grown out of its normal length down too his shoulders, come to think of it his black nails had grown to jagged points.

Ugh, he was disgusted at himself, what would his young master say at him looking so unsightly.

Young Master

Of course, he was an idiot! A absolute damned bloody idio- that is to say imbecile! Here he was worrying about his appearence when his Young master could be in serious trouble. He looked around the room.

"Young master?" His voice came out as dry as autumn leaves.

He couldnt see the young lord, he hadnt seen his body at the chapel either. Good lord, how long had he been out? A few hours? A day maybe?

He had to get going, God only knew what they were doing to his young master now, he would be so angry at him.

As Sebastian was about to get up, thinking of what dish he could prepare his Lord to make up for his tardiness when he stopped dead in his tracks.

His hand, which usually had the mark of his contract emblazoned boldly across the back of it, now only had a thin stencil of the pentacle which could have been drawn on. His contract was fading.

Slowly, he brought his hand closer to him. This...this was impossible. The faustian contract did fade over time but only when the contract was complete or if the human...

Sebastian could feel a lot of emotions he'd never felt before; fear, panic but most of all desperation.

He snatched the clipboard off of the side table. His eyes darted across the words; Gender, male, caucasian, badly beaten, shattered ribs etc.