**Author's Note: Hi! So... I sort of wrote this for a creative writing assignment, then ended up liking it enough to continue it a bit. I got the idea from someone who commented on another story of mine, suggesting I write an Undertaker story!

My sister read it for me, and said that she could sort of see where I was going, and that the concept was a bit cliche, and I realised that, but I liked it anyhow! And I tried really hard to put my own spin on things!

So please comment and let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading! PS I don't own Kuroshitsuji or any characters besides my own OC! ^_^ **

There was chaos, creating a turmoil that seeped into every fibre of everything; in the midst of the chaos, a girl found herself floating.

Her mind was inside of itself, and she knew that she was dead.

Her last memories seemed to replay themselves all around her, like reliving all the horror of her past repeatedly.

And she could see her death occur right before her very eyes, and her worst fears were confirmed.

Deep inside her chest, she felt something heavy. Maybe it was her heart, or possibly an emotion. She knew that sometimes emotions could be heavier than solid objects, but she never got a chance to realise just what the weight was.

As she levitated in the darkness, her legs and arms spread as if to keep her motionless body afloat, she saw the tiniest pinprick of light in the distance.

She couldn't speak, couldn't draw in another breath...

It was as if the luminescence before her started to expand, reaching it's blinding tendrils toward her, making her wish she could close her eyes.

The light hesitated in the darkness, and the girl continued to stare up into the white.

Suddenly, the radiance silently exploded, casting bright spears all around her vision.

And then after, the girl felt the chaos leave her body exhausted, everything around her was blank.

White nothingness.

The girl still couldn't breathe. She willed her chest to move but it was as if her mind was disconnected from her body.

The space around her was so deafeningly silent that the girl was unsettled, and waited for something to happen.

Was this what death was supposed to be like? She wondered. She'd always heard that there was supposed to be a long tunnel that would take her to her eternal rest, but there was no tunnel here.

There was nothing here.

Suddenly, a sound made it's way to her ears: a sound so quiet that at first she wasn't certain she had even heard anything at all.

But as she strained to continue listening, she heard it again.

A voice.

Someone was speaking, but the words were so soft that the girl couldn't understand them. The voice was mixed together as if some transparent wind was pushing it away from her, trying to hide the secrets the voice was fighting to communicate to her.

She forced herself to hear. If her body wasn't able to help her, she would make her mind cooperate.

Straining with every ounce of energy her soul had left, the girl finally made out the words that were being spoken:

"W... Wake up."

...

The girl sat up quickly, feeling her heart pound in her chest like the beating wings of a caged bird.

Everything around her was dark, and shadows covered her body.

Her dry lips were parted, gasping in precious air to her lungs, making her chest rise and fall too rapidly.

Where was she?

She whipped her head from side to side, scanning the room, searching for a sign of inhabitation.

The room was small, with wooden walls and floor. There were tables on each side, with jars stacked everywhere, some sort of liquid colouring the insides of the glasses like trapped oceans of red and blue and yellow.

She was laying on a cot, which seemed to be above the ground for some reason she could not yet interpret, and there was an old lamp sitting on the floor a few feet away from her, casting shadows around the room in strange angles.

There were familiar shining metal knives and long pointed objects on the tables, and the girl eyed them suspiciously before wondering where she had seen them before.

The girl slowly lowered her bare feet to the floor, and realised that the cot she had awakened on was sitting on top of a coffin.

With a start, she noticed that several coffins were stacked about the room, their edges and corners threatening her silently with their symbolism of death and cadavers.

She stood up and backed away from her cot, from the coffins, from the strange jars and weapons.

What sort of place had she been brought to?

What kind of horrific place was this?

She wanted to scream, but her throat was clogged with fear, as if her mind was too surprised to react properly to the situation.

Backed up against the wall, her heart pounding rapidly, the girl stepped on something, making her foot slip off to the side.

Looking down, she squinted her eyes into the darkness, and saw a human skull rolling around, ricocheting from where her foot had kicked it.

She screamed for the first time, the sound echoing off the walls and startling her, and suddenly a door flew open to her right.

The girl looked over at the door. A square of light spilled from the opening, and a man walked through, quickly spotting her backed up against the wall like a cornered animal.

"Well now, dearie, you're awake so soon," he said in a thick accent, and the girl had nowhere to run.

The man was wearing a very tall black hat, and had long silver hair, which a small section of had been braided down his right side. His bangs hung down over his eyes, hiding them from her view, although she could still see stitches running down his cheek and onto his neck, like the footprints of a crow.

She didn't say anything to him, and he gave her a grin that relayed a sense of instability, and the girl gulped.

"I didn't expect you to awake for another hour, I didn't," the man added, putting a hand to his chin and tapping a long, black fingernail against his bottom lip in thought. "But then again, there are some things a man just simply can not understand, no matter how hard he may try!"

His grin returned and he motioned for her to follow him.

She hesitated, unsure if he was going to try to hurt her, but he didn't seem threatening as he heartily skipped through the exit.

The girl decided to momentarily trust him, and walked out the door, as silently requested, and saw that there was another room.

This one was more brightly lit, although there were still coffins strewn about, and propped up against the walls haphazardly.

She blinked back the sudden light, shadowing her face with a hand.

"Who are you?" the girl finally asked, her voice startling her for a moment. She'd been expecting a different voice for an unfathomable reason, but when she had opened her cracked lips, someone else's voice had escaped.

The man turned back around, his grin growing wider at the sound of her words, and put a hand under her chin to raise her face.

She could feel his fingers lightly grip her face as he pulled her gaze up, and his fingernails grazed her cheeks.

"They call me Undertaker, dearie," he replied, as the girl internally debated whether or not to move her face away from him. "And what do they call you?"

The girl opened her mouth to answer, but a realisation hit her deeply, and her eyes widened in shock.

"I... I don't remember," she whispered to him, in surprise.

"Eh," Undertaker mumbled, removing his hand from her chin. "Ya don't remember your name? How very interesting, but at the same time I wonder... Quite a shame, that is."

The girl watched in silence as Undertaker seemed to scoff, then turn around toward the coffins.

She gazed around in curiosity, taking in the strange room.

The dusty shelves, the boxes of some sort of bone-shaped biscuits that didn't actually look very appetising, and the streaky windows that didn't allow in much sunlight.

"What happened to me?" the girl asked, turning back toward Undertaker.

He finally faced her again and grinned, bending his head in a way that suggested he had secrets to tell her. He crossed his arms, and the girl realised that he was wearing a long black robe of some kind, and that he had a black ring on his pinky finger.

She stopped studying him and waited for his answer to her previously asked question.

"That is something you should tell me," Undertaker replied, crossing his long fingers in front of his face.

"What? I don't remember," the girl mumbled to herself, feeling panic flare up inside of her chest like an angry dragon realising that it was chained to the wall for the first time.

"You don't remember," Undertaker repeated, sounding as if he were deep in thought.

"Can you tell me, Undertaker," the girl started, and his gaze snapped up to her own. "How did I get here? The last thing I do remember..."

She trailed off, uncertainly.

"What? And what would be the last thing you do remember, lady?" Undertaker laughed loudly, putting a hand to cover his face, his hair parting a bit, almost allowing the girl to see his eyes.

But he removed his hand quickly as if he'd burnt himself, and continued to grin at her.

"I DO know that I wasn't here before," she stated, a tad defensively. "I was somewhere else... I... died."

Undertaker did seem surprised by her last sentence, and drew back away from her a bit.

"Ya died, did ya, now?" Undertaker asked, his voice low and unamused, as if he were startled but also displeased by her statement.

"I assume so," the girl stuttered, confused by her own answer. "I- I don't understand why I said that."

"Maybe it's true, that's why ya said it!" Undertaker exclaimed.

"But I can't be dead," the girl insisted, putting her hands to her chest. "I'm right here. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Undertaker didn't reply to her almost-rhetorical question, and faced his coffins once again. He seemed to be in deep thought, and the girl realised that he must be a deep thinker, as he was always pausing. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she bet if she could, they would be unfocused as he buried himself in his internal thoughts and questions.

She huffed something like a sigh.

"Your new name is Haven," Undertaker said suddenly, whipping around in her direction. "You'll stay with me now, ya will. Ya can be one of me guests."

The girl tried to come up with some decent way to respond to what he had just told her, but her mind was blank in surprise.

"I- I can't stay here!" she gasped finally.

Undertaker laughed again, his voice growing high and breaking, while he slapped his knee with exuberance.

"If you're not to be staying here, then where exactly will you go, dearie?" Undertaker inquired, amused.

The girl set her jaw in a determined way, and tried to think of an appropriate way to respond.

"Who are your parents?" Undertaker asked. "Do you even have parents, or siblings, for that matter- What about a cousin you could crawl away to?" He sounded as if he already knew that she had no other options. The girl wrapped her arms around herself, knowing she had no answers to any of his demanding questions.

She had no where to go.

She had no memories.

The girl bit her lip, desperately trying to recall anything about her past. Anything!

Her mind was but a blank slate, wiped clean by hurried fingers, leaving nothing behind but smudges and chalky debris.

"Haven, dear," Undertaker said, in a tone of voice that was a bit softer than before. "Ya can go clean up in the washroom over there, ya can. Just make yourself right at home!"

He pointed a thumb toward a door all the way to the wall on the right side of her.

She decided that maybe washing her face, splashing cold water onto her cheeks, could help restore her hidden memories.

She nodded at him, one time, then finally walked over to the door of the washroom, her mind still just as hazy as ever.