The Corpse Bride

Falling In Love

Natasha hurried through the halls, padding softly across the linoleum floor. She had already found where Lincoln was located, but she felt like she had spent an eternity looking for him. The halls felt like a maze, the turns making no sense whatsoever. She kept an eye out for his cell, running the numbers through her head. 56, 57, 58....59! She hurried over to the cell, slowing when she got near. Peering in, she could see a figure hunched over the bed. The walls inside were a bright, glaring white, a stark contrast to the pastel blues of the hallway. She pushed the key into the door, unlocking it slowly. The figure looked up quickly, making a move to stand. She shut the door behind her quickly, and slowly moved closer.
           "Natasha?" Lincoln stood up slowly, "I...how?" He moved closer, and she resisted the urge to step back. He went silent. She stepped forward and slowly opened her mouth to speak. She flinched back violently as he suddenly dropped to his knees, begging for forgiveness. His words were intelligible, but she could make out garbled apologies and jumbled explanations. She slowly helped him up, wiping the tears as best as she could.
"It's ok! Really, I'm fine." Natasha comforted him, hoping to get him up and answering her questions, "I just had some questions to ask you." Lincoln still wasn't calming down. Worried, she moved him to the bed. It was a good hour before he was able to form eligible sentences. He, of course, asked how she came back to life. She explained everything, wanting answers as to who that woman was and what his pov looked like.
           "It's a long story...but I do owe you tremendously," Lincoln rattled on about the events as Natasha slowly pieced together the mystery that was her murder.
    Lincoln had prepared to take his meds that day, not wanting to ruin anything for his sister. But he couldn't find them. He panicked, and decided to go find someone to inform them that he couldn't go to the wedding, as he didn't want to cause a disturbance or make a mess. But that woman appeared. He didn't remember much, but he remembered her reassuring him of something. Next thing he knew, he was being charged for the murder of Natasha. Natasha sat at the edge of the bed in disbelief. If this was true...then Samantha was in danger. Then it was like everything became a blur. She vaguely remembered thanking Lincoln, finding her way out, running through neighborhoods, running back to Samantha. Her mind was a muddled mess, unsure what to do. She knew there wasn't much time. The wedding was soon.

Guess who forgot about this again??
  Really short, but I'm still suffering from writers block and the flu.