She looked around in a haze of red fury and heart wrenching misery. The situation came ripping her apart, stabbing at her like little shards. She watched, as her family members were murdered right before her eyes. They were torn limb from limb, no regard for their humanity, their pain. She threw up upon the blood soaked ground, dirtying it even more with her disgust. Her heart was beating near out of her chest. She was comprised of the misty existence of crimson death and piercing emotions. Of raw uncontrollable pain, a deep, shroud-like furious sadness.
Tears cut through the dirt in her face and everything, everything was just too much. So so much. She felt as if she were to burst from all things she had no way of handling. She was utterly helpless. The monster, it smelled of ash and terror, it's eyes blazing with bloodlust. It turned to her and she stopped. She stopped all she was to see its beautiful terribleness. It was there only to bring pain to others and she just couldn't take it anymore. She felt as if she had slipped into a nightmare. But this wasn't merely some fragment of a fevered mind. This was real. The pounding of her heart, the slick, salty taste of blood upon her tongue. She reeled backwards, seeing the monster in all its deathly glory come towards her. She wasn't able to save her family, she would not be able to save herself. She had absolutely no kind of protection against this unearthly beast. She had seen its eyes, soulless and resolute. It would kill her, and to ever consider otherwise would be the mark of an imbecile. It was obvious she couldn't fight it. But there was one thing she could do.
She could rob it of its murder. She saw the need to kill in its every movement, the haughty, jagged, grace of something made to enforce death. She knew it was murdering them for the fun of it. So what could she do? She scrabbled around in the wet, red dirt, fingers closing on a leather grip. Her shivering hands brought it closer. She had to do it quick, before it noticed. So with tired hands, as weak and as strong as they had ever been, she stabbed the blade into her neck. As the world turned black and the pain shot through her, the last thing she saw was a smirk from the beast. As if it were amused by her efforts. Her vision caught a delicate feather, black as her own fate. It brushed her numb face. The crow-like beast had flown away.
She swam towards the light. A great softness enveloped her, brushing away the pain, the dark shards of memory. Then there was nothing.
She was swimming through time, she didn't understand what was happening, it was a jumble of concepts and shapes. Nothing made sense and nothing needed to. She didn't know who she was, it was fluttering away from her, and she no longer cared. There was no control here and she wanted none. It was a sharp, floaty sort of feeling. There was something, a something she needed. What did she need? She ached for it, and knew nothing of it. Then it began to slow, the whirlwind of spiralling colours and ideas twisted to a stop.
A jolting, abrupt halt. Her head fell forward and life returned to her. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to be anywhere anymore. The thoughts came back, the memories came back. She was surprised about her current state, which was to say, not dead. But she was dead, she must have been. Her eyes stayed closed, she didn't want to accept the reality of the situation she was in. Her family was gone, and she should have been. She could feel her heart jump in pain. It was as if it were partially crippled, leaping with stunted despair. Her eyes were hot, waves of terrible drenching sadness. No, she couldn't do this, she didn't know where she was. She had to stop, to take it all in. Crying could wait for another time. Then she did something that would alter her destiny to a degree she did not yet know.
She opened her eyes.
The world was blurry and pale, shivering like a great glass orb. She could sense uneasiness of others. But where were those others? She couldn't see anything. She grabbed her head, pulling her short brown hair, assuring herself of her own existence. Fuzzy, crackling voices beat at her eardrums. Her inner nostrils felt tender and raw, and the pit of her stomach resounded with anxiety. Then a pressing against her nose, a hooking around her ears. A pair of glasses clicked into place, and the world was clear.
She was in a white room, smelling of sanitizer. She looked down, seeing that she was in a straitjacket. Turning her head to the side she saw that it was not a room, but more of a hallway. It stretched past what her eye could see. She turned her head the other way and saw the same. There was a line of people like her, in straitjackets. One side was comprised only of people wearing glasses, and the other had a person walking down and putting glasses on people, so only the ones nearest to her donned them.
This entire experience was so incredibly strange, she had never felt so out of control. With all the previous events and this too she had just lost everything and knew not where this would take her. She was bewildered, with a strong urge to run into the woods and never return. If that made any sense in this situation. She sort of wanted to struggle in her straitjacket, like many around her. But she saw no point, whatever happened happened and she would wait until her chance to get away from it if it ever came. Even if the escape came in the form of death.
Because obviously she wasn't actually dead. She had died, but she was not dead, it seemed. It was a struggle to form coherent thought, she watched the writhing masses of people around her, the white that was everything contrasted deeply with her own dark thoughts and stretching heartstrings. There was a tautness, a tightness within. Something strange and angry that was ready to snap. A burst of fear and rage that would hurt other people. She hated the straitjacket but at the same time was grateful for it. She wanted to lash out at everyone, but hidden beneath the burning layers of unpleasantness there was nugget of rational thought.
She stayed this way for a while, giving up on pushing aside the memories. The tears flowed from her face, thick and bloody. The sharp metallic smell stung her sensitive nostrils. She relived each moment in horror and revulsion, remembering the petrified look upon her younger sisters face as she was ripped apart. Bile rose in her throat, sour and unforgiving.
Her sister, only two years old, a curly blonde Angel, golden locks that should never have been matted with blood, a pure white throat that should have never been torn. Her limbs should have stayed where they belonged. But that purity was gone, and she would never see the innocent smile again.
Her tears were blood for some reason, thick and warm. Horror flashed behind her eyes every time she blinked. The silence, only interrupted by the ruffling of clothes around ear was calming. Everybody was gagged so there were no screams. After the living hell she had just escaped, the monotony of time was welcomed. It tumbled on, she didn't know how much time had passed, staring at the white walls, vividly recalled her worst nightmare. Perhaps it had never happened. Perhaps she was crazy.
That would explain the current getup sort of. Except for the hallways stretching out to seemingly infinity. Maybe, she thought with a slither of hope, it was a dream. Maybe she would wake up, go to school, live her life. It felt real though. Time continued on, not caring about her musings. It could have been hours or days. She didn't know, time was just a concept that became difficult to keep track of without timepieces to guide her.
She had started to feel hungry after a little while, but now it had reached a frightening degree and her throat was a barren wasteland, without water in sight. This led her to believe a fair amount of time had passed, perhaps a day, perhaps even two. It was hard to say.
Nonetheless, the people around her had all stopped their struggling. They had given up, and their eyes stared out at the wall. Glassy, dazed. Was she the same? Another thing she had noticed was that every straitjacket clad person surrounding her appeared to be male.
She had craned her neck as much as possible with a strange device attached to it, and she could see no one who looked female. Curious. A long time passed, a hollow time, without meaning to it. She watched as the faces of people around became more and more stricken, before finally dropping to despair.
Many of them just fell asleep, some of them becoming very pale. She thought they might be dead.
She was very hungry now and her throat stung with drought. This distracted her from the terrifying imagery that ran rampant through her mind. It dulled the screaming of her family, numbing her slightly.
Then something changed. She looked up, her eyes were as glassed over and as afraid as everybody else's. She saw someone come in, footsteps clacking against the white floor. His hair was purple and voluminous, and his eyes were acidic green. He took the shoulders of someone a few meters away from her, and pulled the boy to their feet, leading him away. He came back after a while, it could have been seconds or minutes, she didn't know. And he pulled another away. This went on for a while.
Then he came to her. He stared down at her, looming and emotionless. His strangely coloured eyes judged her with precise blinking. How was his blinking precise? She didn't know, everything about him just seemed so in place, so perfect. He pulled her up, as he had done with all the others, and led her away. The hallway no longer seemed to stretch out forever, maybe it was just an illusion. She wondered where she would go. Another white room? To while away the hours again? No, not that at all, something unexpected. She left the simple, yet somehow futuristic atmosphere of that place, and came to a sprawling library. It was musty, and colourful. It felt so so homely and the books, there were so many books. She looked closer, all the books seemed to be the same colour. She joined a line of others wearing straitjackets. They all seemed like frightened deer, confused and twitching with an urge to run, but a rational thought telling them that it would not be wise. Another man, -this one with hair long and flowing like cornsilk- stood in front of them. He cleared his throat and spoke.
"I know you must all be very confused, but before I get to explaining this situation. I would like to formally welcome all of you to the Shinigami Soul Dispatch Society."
Dun dun duuuuun. Yeah, first chapter. Sorry about lots of things not making sense, I was trying to get the feeling of barely coherent thought across. Cause she was so scared and confused. Usually my similes and such actually make sense. I also apologise for the very slight amount of kuroshitsujiness in this. There will be more mention of the actual thing this is about later. Also I know since I'm writing about something not explained in very much depth in the manga or anime, I will have to make a lot of stuff up. If we later learn more about the Shinigami Soul Dispatch Society, and things I have here are wrong, then oops. Oh well. This story seems like something interesting to write, and I hope you guys like it.
-Anencephalouswriter