((The art above is mine, yes. I meant to use it last chapter but didn't do so. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. ))

April 3rd,1936

Current time- two twenty in the early morning.

I have never been like this before.

Never, never once have I been this stupid, this reckless. I hadn't been thinking, and I let my actions speak before I even opened my mouth.

While Father slept in his room and Muffet in her own, I lit a candle and slowly tracked down the stairs. I occasionally let my toes creak the floorboards, uncomfortable with the silence. All was far too still. Too quiet considering the commotion hours before.

With every move I made, I feared to shake the entire building. Even though I am weightless, I distinctly remember my body feeling as heavy as an elephant walking on a thin tightrope thread. It was the feeling and dread of toppling over the side any second, and if my movements weren't precise, I'd wake everyone in earshot with a loud crash.

I hadn't thought to bring a candle with me due to the notion of being seen, so I ventured my way out the back doors blindly. My only source of light was that of a single, luminescent moon. Its soft radiance shone on the snow wading just below my ankles.

What was I doing? I was going to the shed. But why? I don't know. I think... I think my reasoning was to make sure whoever that person was was okay and not too terribly injured. I'm still not sure.

Was all of it worth it?

I wondered if I should knock on the shed door before entering. Perhaps I should have.

I slowly creaked open the rotting boards with splintered fingers, my feet meeting the dusty, dirty floorboards inside. I chocked on the fogs of smoke, suddenly acting to jam my airways. I began waving my hands to hopefully rid of it.

At the end of the woodshed, I could make out a small red-orange light, burning similar to that of a fading ember. It seemed warm compared to all else.

Before I could make out anything else, an adumbration rushed at me. I let out a final breath, feeling the slippery snow in my nightgown and garments,wind-beaten out of me. Someone big straddled over me, their forearm on my neck and forcing its way further down, attempting to strangle me breathless. It worked well in their favor.

I panicked and gripped onto their arm tightly, clawing it and trying to shove it away at the same time. But the more energy I used, the more the world began to crush me. I felt the last bit of air in my chest drift away into the atmosphere, leaving me with nothing. Nothing but the deathly burning of my throat and the need for new breaths that I couldn't take in.

Slowly, I was losing the strength to struggle, my vision blurring and my limbs not doing what I required them to do. Everything buzzed around my ears, and the longer I squirmed, the more helpless I became.

Why was I here? What purpose did I have to come out here? Why? Why. Why. Why.

It's the only thing I continued to ask myself; Why did I still try? Whatever was the point? Exactly what was it I was trying to gain?

Perhaps.

Perhaps I just wanted to understand.

I craved the meaning behind what he'd said earlier; Who had he come here for? Why had he not known what he was getting himself into? Or was he simply so deluded by his need for this person that he didn't think orderly before showing up?

Those weren't the questions I ended my life with, thank God. To my fortune, I was suddenly able to breathe freely again- Or at least, as freely as I regularly would.

Through relentless coughing and wheezing, I could see the light and color returning to my line of sight.

It took me a few minutes of breathing and sobbing to finally raise up from the snow, spotting my attacker sitting against the outside of the shed, his cigarette burnt out in the finely shredded ice.

I clutch my neck as though it'd let more air flow in, only making me seen dramatic.

I'll never forget the look on his face. Despite it being beaten up, cracked to hell and back and being covered in dry blood, it looked almost shocked as though I was the one my father had beaten.

With semi-widened sockets and small white pin-prick pupils, he looked at me, not grinning like he was last time.

"The hell are ya doing out here when it's this late, Pip?"

I didn't answer, trying to focus on his appearance rather than wonder-

"How are you bleeding?"

"What?"

"You are made of bone, so how are you bleeding this badly?"

The buff skeleton howled in laughter, though he didn't show it too well I could tell how much it hurt him. His gaze moved back to me and then to my nightgown. He wasn't seeming to size me up, only looking and taking in my appearance as I had his. He clears his throat, speaking again with his low and husky voice.

"Get out of here, kid. It's not my place to be talkin' to you right now. Don't want your Pa to bust out his whip on me, right?"

"No, but I-"

"Then get." He demanded, sounding exactly like the man we were both afraid of.

I did as I was told, shivering all the way back inside with a new bruise around my neck, and a newfound curiosity that kept me up all night like a hunger.