A/N: Almost five years ago, I posted a story (SCARED) on my former account here in FF that I basically abandoned because of reasons. It made me cringe because it's a freaking 4 years hiatus and I realized that I wanted to continue the plot but I don't know how to start it. So as a February treat for myself, I decided to just wing it and write a prologue to get it going. So, here is a rendition of SCARED that is hopefully more developed than the last one. Also, not beta-ed and if anyone wants to do it then please leave me a message. I would love you and worship you.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (黒執事) or have any affiliation to its creator.
The burning crimson clouds my vision as the thick smoke climbs its way into my throat. I can feel my lungs struggle to continue breathing while I heave and cough, my vision blurring along with my inability to sustain the air I deeply needed. The smell of the burning flesh continues to assault my nostrils and the knowledge of whose body it is made me sick. I pressed my small hands along the marble wall, trying to distant myself from the fire, and walking into the large dining hall where my parents are.
"Mother! Father!" I yell, as I cover my mouth with my left hand. My feet staggers dangerously among the fallen debris of the once beautiful chandelier as I try to carefully maneuver myself across the room. I felt my right foot slip a little bit and I vaguely felt a sharp pain climbing up to my calves as warm liquid seeps through the soft material of my half-burned socks.
"Where are they?" I ask myself as I wipe away the single tear that made its way down my cheeks. Big boys don't cry and especially not a Phantomhive, that's what Father used to say. I bravely pushed myself further into the burning room when I spotted her. The familiar long blonde hair lying limply next to the broken dining table choked a whimper out of me as I scramble down on the floor, calling out her name. Her body was set in a weird angle, wounds and burn marks all over her. I felt my body tremble as I look into her eyes that were left wide open by the cruel people who killed her.
Oh yes, she died. Along with Father and everyone else within the manor that night. How could I forget the death of my own mother, of my own family? Of the day that they also killed me? Perhaps not in the literal sense, but I died anyway. The innocence of youth and the promises of happiness, all of it disappeared during that tragic night. They murdered Ciel Phantomhive and recreated him in the form of this merciless contractor, a king in a winning chess game.
They killed me, but they also brought me back to life.