He Heard The Clock Tick

ONE

Damien Carridge woke up that morning expecting a routine day at the cemetery where he worked. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his overgrown, messy brown hair falling just above his eyebrows, giving him a slightly dishevelled, yet cool appearance. His enormous, melancholic eyes held a quiet sadness that seemed to linger behind his gaze.

He licked his thin, pale lips, then took a slow sip of water, trying to shake off the lingering sleep. Afterward, he slipped into his black suit and navy tie, the fabric fitting loosely over his thin, bony frame. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and steadied himself before stepping out the door, ready to face the day.

He arrived at the cemetery where he worked just as a new grave was being dug. The fresh earth, damp and dark, seemed to pulse with quiet life. Intrigued, Damien approached the gravedigger, who was busy with his task.

"Greetings, Marcus," Damien called softly.

The gravedigger looked up, wiping sweat from his brow. "Hello, Damien."

Damien's eyes flicked to the freshly turned soil. "Another new grave?"

"Mhm," Marcus replied, nodding.

Damien hesitated, then asked, "Do you know who it's for?"

"Female, thirty-six. Martha Wilson," Marcus said, his voice even but somehow heavy.

Damien didn't quite understand why he felt so captivated. Graves appeared daily, yet this one called to something deeper within him. A strange pull kept him rooted to the spot. "I'm sure I've just had too much wine." He mutters to himself.

But deep down he knew something was up. He wouldn't admit it, but he knew.

authors' note: AAAAAAAAAA ok first chapter, i hope u like it so far, ik its boring but it gets good trust, also (idek if this is a thing on here, i've come from ao3) this WILL NOT have any regular posting schedule!! ok bye now!