The man held the half-dead girl in his arms and ran. He ran until his lungs hurt every time he breathed in, and his legs felt numb. And just when he couldn't run anymore, he arrived at the very place that could help him.
It was a rundown factory on the outskirts of London, and a man who made human-like dolls ran it. Or I suppose you could say they were dolls who used to be human. Some people believed it was to preserve their lives, and others just wanted a person to be with them forever; these people were usually not in their right minds.
The man was instructed to lay her on an unused table, and he was told to come back in a few days to retrieve her, like she was just some object that he had taken to be repaired.
The factory owner got to work and soon, he had created the perfect doll. Her skin looked as though it was made of porcelain, and her hair flowed down to her waist. Green eyes, framed by long black eyelashes, shone brightly, yet they never blinked.
She was beautiful.
The owner waited the recommended days, and he waited some more. But the man who had brought the girl there never returned. Maybe he had gone completely mad and got himself killed. Or maybe it was he who had dealt the finishing blow.
Nobody knew.
So the 'doll' was left there. They put her on display and was never moved again. That was until Ciel and Sebastian had encountered her, and handed her over to a particular silver-haired man.
The very man who was watching from afar and smiling in glee. You see, the story wasn't something that one should smile about; there was nothing joyous about the whole affair, but Undertaker found it amusing.
Now, he had a troublesome task on hand, and that was awakening the doll before him. There was only one way he could think of to do it, and that was to add new memories to the ending of the film.
The film that was now reeling out of her body. The memories included events that should've occurred in her life; she was far too young when she died. There were also memories that Undertaker added himself into. Hopefully, this would work.
Undertaker carefully pulled out his scythe from her chest and then assisted the girl into a sitting position. There was nothing noticeably different about her, except the twinkle that was now in her eye, and her skin looked less pale.
Undertaker twirled a strand of hair around his finger and bought it to his lips. "Now my dear, what is your name?"
"My name is Amalie, Undertaker."
