Am I Dead? Part 2 (M.Occult Freak x F.Reader)

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A dirty hand sifted through your ragged hair as a grumble left through your mouth. You wanted to kill him...You wanted revenge, but you were so tired. All you could manage to do was lift a single hand. A glance behind you revealed your dug up grave. Perhaps to the you of the past this would've seemed poetic in some way. The you of now however, felt only the urge to rip the man who did this limb from limb.

If your heart could still beat it would've been thundering at the moment. You, (Name) L/n, were dead at the hands of your long time friend and recent ex lover Malcom Endsworth. The bastard believed you to be a glory among people and wanted you to be "represented" as nothing but a glory. Of course that prick Richard decided to help him too, the homicidal asshole he was. You cracked your neck, a slight pain lingering in it. This whole being undead thing would've been a lot better if you actually had benefits, but no! You were just like a regular human without a heartbeat. God, you were pissed. Pain, hunger, and emotion, you felt them all so vividly. What was the point of being undead if you didn't even get to move around like somebody from the evil dead or shamble about like a regular zombie. Hell, you didn't even hunger for human flesh.

Sitting up you started to use your limbs to move your strained body. Being dead inside the ground for such a long time did do a number on your muscles and bones. One stretch....Two....and you were ready to leave the god forsaken graveyard behind.

A flash light hit you.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing here?! You damn kids aren't supposed to be in these places at night!" A voice yelled out, gruff and raspy.

A man in black overalls appeared over the hill, his hair shaggy, and a bit of a limp in his gait. The groundskeeper you surmised as you looked him up and down. He waved his shovel angrily in your direction as you stepped back from the light he had shown in and around you.

It burned your eyes.

His greenish gaze landed on your now empty grave as a furious tone took over his voice.

"You bastard! That was just a little girl, not even dead for a week and your lots already thought of desecrating her grave! People like you are the ones who eventually go to hell!"

You flinched.

Hell.....Perhaps you had already been there.

The man pulled out a phone, an obvious go to for the police, but he found himself dropping it when you started to run.

"Hey! You damn bitch! Get back here!" He shouted after you as you tired to get away.

You didn't look back. You just kept running and running. You didn't want to deal with this nasty old man anymore and you didn't feel like getting trapped in some prison overnight. You cursed out Malcom loudly within your head. Whilst running away from the man, who had now picked up his phone and was dialing the number, a light bulb went off in your head.

A red bulb, and a dark idea.

Malcom....

You stopped running at random, the streets now looking familiar to you. Your old neighborhood. The one you had grown up with Malcom in. A fist was balled against your leg. House passed by house, and the sound of police cars alerted you to what the old man had done.

You'd have to do this quickly.

Entering through the window of a certain home it seemed like your job was made too easy. Upon the kitchen counter top laid a knife, a little dirty from the juices of whatever fruit the family had cut earlier. Guilt entered your non beating heart when you thought of what the family would have to deal with in the morning. It would be a gruesome sight.

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