I am pleased to present the second chapter to 'The Forgotten One'. I'd like to again thank my two reviewers/followers, Phantom Ou and Esmeralda Wolfsbane, for your wonderful and supportive reviews. I am very grateful you took the time to respond and follow, it is most encouraging! I'd also like to mention that I may prove myself rather dreadful at keeping constant chapter posts, though I shall try to post them as consistently as possible!
A final ado: It is my greatest regret that I do not own Kuroshitsuji...
Please enjoy!
CHAPTER TWO
Dawn was approaching. The inky blackness of the night was fading into a murky gray dimness. Far in the distance, the bells of a church broke through the misty air, echoing through the city. And then the world was silent.
But not for long.
The scream, the bloody and horrific scream, pierced the peaceful air. Shrill, terrified shrieks; so high that the panes of glass on the nearby shops vibrated with tension. Someone had died. Or was dying. No other circumstances could produce such shrill and head-splitting results.
And so the serenity of the morning was gone.
"Mmm… mm-hm. Yes."
Muttering.
"Yes. I understand. Thank you."
Against all odds, my sense of consciousness seemed to be returning. Along with it, an unpleasant and unusual sensation in the pit of my stomach. I was not forgetful, previous events had not eluded my notice. So...
How?
My lips formed the word, but I couldn't bring myself to produce sound. The unease grew. Why could I still sense myself? The cobble was cold and hard against my back. My hands were clasped. I calculated. This was not Heaven. Neither was it the contrary. I was stuck in between, sandwiched on Earth. This was absolute.
"Name… unknown… found… six o'clock, was it?"
"As far as I can tell. Girl's still in complete shock, won't stop sobbing and wailing about it. Women, honestly."
The gruff and official sound of men conversing was loudest and closest above all the commotion. Beneath their voices, I could just make out others murmuring excitedly.
"How awful!"
"Do you see how he positioned her? Right cruel of the murderer, must've been a morbid fellow…"
"So young, so young…"
I felt my teeth clench. I wished they would silence themselves. My body was still aching and I desired rest. Unfortunately, their words interested me. Gears turned in my head. Again, my lips moved, and this time barely a whisper escaped.
"Murder. How unfortunate."
I did not want to open my eyes. I was not as excited as the observers over a dead body, and I deemed the corpse quite unnecessary to examine. If only they would silence themselves, perhaps I could be at peace again. Or at least, I could devote some time to deciphering why I was not dead yet.
"…if Jack the Ripper..."
"Nonsense!"
One of the bureaucratic-sounding men, a speaker who seemed quite nearby, addressed the jumble of voices that I assumed was a crowd.
"Jack the Ripper, as has been assured, is no longer a threat. It is in everyone's best interests that you return to your homes now."
The crowd, on the contrary, erupted. I felt my mouth twitch.
"Oi! How do you know that for sure? We haven't been told anything!"
Voiced agreement.
"Quiet, quiet, all of you! Look, the victim has been attacked with bullets. This is clearly not in the Ripper's manner! However, I would advise you to stay in your homes until this ordeal is sorted out. The current situation is quite dangerous."
That got them moving. I heard muttering and a clamour of footfalls as the crowd meandered towards safety. I pondered, briefly, my own security. Lying about on the street must certainly be inviting to any potential threats, and as I was clearly not dying or dead…
"Perhaps I should value my life."
As that spark entered my head, I slowly opened my eyes to greet a sickeningly bright gray sky. Unfazed, I blinked once. If I were to protect myself, I would need to move. Therefore, slowly and automatically, I sat up.
And I was met with a screech so primitive it had to be non-human.
Scanning the area for the source, I found my assumptions had proved correct. A sizeable crowd was gathered in the alley. Spaced evenly about the area, authoritative looking men in trench coats seemed to be restraining the masses. Others were scribbling in notebooks. Rather, they were doing so before the scream. Now, every head was turned towards me.
I found and locked eyes with the culprit as she shrieked again. The situation was rather perplexing.
"Strange, did they only just notice I was here? Why does the ugly woman scream?"
No one was moving, and my head began to churn painfully with the thoughts that were clouding it. What was happening? I tilted my head to the side questioningly. Click. My movement seemed to initiate new passion in the authorities in trench coats, for they began to shoo the startled crowd off with fresh vigour. One of them approached me; I stared at him directly in the eyes.
"Miss..."
So I am female.
"Miss, are you able to stand?" His hand extended tentatively towards me. For such a respectable looking man, he seemed a bit afraid.
"I wonder why..." I muttered.
"Hmm?"
I didn't reply, but I allowed him to take my hand and help me to my feet. My wounds didn't hurt, in fact, finding the courage to look down, I discovered there wasn't even any blood at all. Unusual. Someone had cleansed me.
The man's face flooded with relief when I let his hand go, but only for an instant as he quickly recomposed himself. Two others approached me, making silly, stupid remarks about blood pressure and such. They all made such a fuss that I began to get a picture of what was going on. The screaming lady, the nearby crowd, and the comments people had made settled into the bigger picture.
"It's all so obvious..."
My words were too quiet for the men surrounding me to hear, but I said them anyway. Even if they had heard, I don't think they would pay much notice, because their minds were crowded with unexplainable questions, just like mine was.
For until a few moments ago, I was the victim.
Swip.
The room sparked to life as the match did, and as the lamp was lit the area brightened even more. It was a very plain space, no windows or openings except for a metal door ominously blocking the exit. The walls were an unidentifiable material, gray and texture-less. I didn't bother to observe the floor. I was too busy keeping my eyes firmly trained on the man sitting on the bench in front of me.
He was not unlike the room, plain and insipid in both his features and mannerisms. Beardless, with slicked gray hair and a face which might have been chiselled out of stone, he was not pretty and not ugly. Simply bland. Of course, the flickering golden lamp added an interesting effect to his characteristics. All I could see of his eyes were two glittering orbs, not unlike a beetle's. It was ominous, but I was not intimidated.
And neither was he.
"May I have your name, miss?"
Silence.
"Miss?"
I was not being childish. I was simply contemplating. I could not remember ever having a name. Should I give him a fake one? And who was this man anyways, to ask me such questions?
"Miss!"
"I do not know."
"You can't remember, eh?" My eyes stared blankly him as he took something down in a little book. Yet my mind buzzed tensely.
"Door."
"Hmm?"
"My name is Door."
"Last name?"
Silence.
"Last Name?"
"Seat."
Scribbling. What was he writing in his little book? I hoped it wasn't the ugly, plain name. In truth, I had simply picked out the most prominent aspects of the room to create my pseudonym. But putting it in writing would make it an official title.
"Miss Seat, are you aware of the circumstances you were found in?"
I crooked my head.
"I was sleeping, was I not?"
"You were not breathing, for sure. Miracles are known to happen, but you had been gone for hours."
"I was not dead."
He scratched a few notes down before changing the subject, seemingly bored with my redundant answers.
"Do you know who shot you?"
"Two men in a manor."
"Which manor?"
"I do not know."
"Which men?"
"I do not know."
I knew I was trying his patience, but I did not quite care. The constant scratching of the pen in the book was beginning to irk me. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
"How am I to answer questions if the man who asks them has not yet given his identity?" I verbalized quietly. He gave me a look I couldn't read and did not answer. Scratch.
"He's ugly, isn't he? Quite ugly. Not handsome at all..." I observed.
"Miss Seat. Please stick to the topic at hand."
"I wish he would go. He's clouding the atmosphere. So ugly..."
"Miss Seat, I'm warning you, I'll call in assistance..."
"...mangled, brute face..."
"She's mad!" he cried in desperation.
CRUNCH.
My fingers closed around his neck.
I stared at him blankly.
He was so annoying.
He must go.
He was scrambling.
Why did he wriggle so?
He would last longer if he saved his energy.
Could he possibly be so dense that he'd want to die sooner?
I watched as the beetle eyes slowly lost their lustre. Almost done, almost done. He would be gone, and I, no longer burdened with a silly, stupid name like 'Door Seat', would be free. Free.
The silence, however, was interrupted. The big, heavy metal postern burst open with a bang. Men swarmed around us, their sheer number forcing me to release the beetle man and stumble back towards the exit. My body grew heavy as their warm figures pressed against me from all sides, pinning down my arms and legs. As they herded me into a dark hall, I caught a glimpse of the beetle man lying on the floor, surrounded by medics.
He was not moving.
"Morning tea, Your Majesty."
"Thank you, Ash."
It was a brilliantly sunny morning in the royal chambers. The French windows were ajar, allowing warm breezes and fresh sunlight to stream into the room. Birds were singing cheerily; the window boxes were flooded with geraniums and blue-stars. It was beautiful.
The chief resident of the home, Queen Victoria, was currently being served tea. Shrouded in black, face hidden by a thick veil, she contrasted greatly with the atmosphere. She certainly wasn't enjoying the day; in fact, she seemed rather preoccupied.
"Anything else you would like, Your Majesty?"
"One moment, Ash."
Her Majesty's gloved hands fingered the words on the paper she was reading, concern mounting in her thoughts. After tracing through the whole article, she turned to her butler in a manner of upmost anxiety.
"Look here, Ash, at this article. It speaks of a murder."
"Oh?"
"Yes, but read on. The victim, who had been most definitely dead, sat up during the investigation. Completely unharmed."
"I see..."
"She had been pelted with bullets, but there was no blood. They say she's in questioning now."
"Perhaps the attacker had cleaned any wounds,"
Her Majesty paused and regarded him seriously.
"You know what this means, Ash, you know what she must be. I order you to destroy her. If anyone were to find out what she was—"
"Excuse me for interrupting, Your Majesty, but that may not be the best course of action. If I may say so, miracles are prone to happening. She may just be an ordinary being. And besides, if she were to disappear, I'm afraid the consequences would be very, shall we say, unhelpful. The public would be in panic."
"What do you suggest?"
"If I may say so, I think the best course of action would be to let the investigation continue. If she is found out, I will carry out your orders and have her destroyed at once."
"I would agree with you; however I'm afraid even the police should not be made aware of her existence. We'll have to send her to someone who has tampered with them before. He should be able to identify her. And he must make certain not to let the media in."
"Your Majesty?"
The Queen paused to think.
"Ash, fetch me some parchment. I need to write a letter to Ciel Phantomhive."