When an untimely death hits your soul, your husband is one to take it harshly.

Brian Richardson, was the name he went by, and was his. He took your old last name. A lovely man with a beautiful heart.

However, when you died and he had to take his speech at your funeral, something inside of him hit.

You won’t be here anymore. The same realization as when he first heard the news, repeating in his mind again now a week after. He grieved heavily.

Depression hit him hard. He couldn’t bring himself to get out of the house, or simply greet the neighbors.

After all, you were his will to live. And now that you’re gone, what could he do? His life was miserable before, and it’s miserable now.

Not being able to take the sorrow any longer, he cut his life short as well. The letters to his loved ones on the table as he placed a chair in the middle of the bedroom.

Stepping onto it, he grasped the rope he bought in his hands.

—————————✦—————————

You find yourself reborn as a new person, fresh, and young, and in your late-twenties. A new universe, a new soul.

Although you had no memory of your past life, you didn’t need it. It was human nature for a reincarnation to not know who they were before they were brought back from the dead.

However, when fates twist and it feels as if someone’s gutted you in the stomach with a knife and twisted it around, you find yourself miserable in a cult you didn’t wish to be in.

Creepypasta. A stupid name, I know! Slendermansion, magic, folklore.. bleh!

Atleast you were promoted to a proxy as soon as you joined. But even then, proxies don’t get any special treatment.

Unless you count more missions as special treatment.

Still, you were getting used to your surroundings.

As of right now, here you are. Finding yourself in front of a man your age— named Brian Thomas. At a fricking gas station. Smoking right behind it, with the night tinted a blue shade.

“It’s been a whole month since you’ve got here, you still haven’t loosen up?” He asked.