( 2 Hours Ago: Midnight )

(A/N: Two hours before where the prologue started begins, sorry if it's confusing)

. . .

"But that brought you to where you were now. Four years later."

You'd had a hard day. Your third day straight without food and you were running dangerously low on water.

Although your only desire was currently sleep, you knew your body would quit on you if you didn't find food.

It was night, so it was your only opportunity unless you wanted to wait another day.

You climb up from the ruble you'd been resting in, an immediate pain striking your back from such uncomfortable conditions. You stretch out your almost functioning limbs and throw on your black jacket, and tie your scarf around your face.

As soon as you exit the building you had been in, the smell of burning wood and smoke fills your lungs. You let out a longing sigh and shove your hands in your pockets.

The weather had been getting chillier by the day. Fall was right around the corner and you had yet to find warmer clothing.

So much to do and so little time to do it.

Your pace quickens a little, realizing you only have a good four hours to scavenge until you have to return back to hiding.

An hour passes by.

Nothing.

Your stomach hits you with waves of hunger and your head throbs from exhaustion.

You force yourself to continue.

And as luck would have it, your determination rewarded you.

Right across the street, you spot a bar. "Grillby's"? What a strange name.

The windows are broken but you spot some bottles, maybe there'd been water too.

With caution, you stay low to the ground and cross the street.

You enter through one of the broken windows with ease, making sure to not make a sound. Avoiding the shattered glass on the ground, you make your way towards the cabinet of beers.

Your eyes grow wide as you find a small bag of pretzels and a can of tomato soup. No water, but at least the soup would quench your thirst for a little longer.

You shove the two items into your small backpack and continue to scavenge.

After searching every nook and cranny, you find no other valuable resources. What you do find is another level to the house, a basement.

You creep down the stairs, pulling out your flashlight along with your knife just in case.

The light that your flashlight gives off isn't strong, but gives off just enough so you can see your surroundings.

It's a bedroom.

It's already been cleaned out.

You grunt in disappointment before searching around to see if anything was left behind.

On top of an empty dresser, you find a crowbar. A peculiar place for such an item, but quite the helpful find. It granted a longer reach than your knife and a harder hit.

You keep the item clutched in your hand before continuing on.

The closet is filled with nothing but suits- too heavy and difficult to maneuver easily in. Perhaps you could steel one of the jackets of the suits as a blanket?

Just as your about to unhook one of the suits from a hanger, you hear the sound of glass cracking from the upper level, the glass that you had avoided which was all over the floor.

Someone was up there.

You quietly sneak over to the closet and crawl inside, hugging the wall. The sound from above you stops for a second, you could tell they may be onto your presence.

You stifle your breathing and remain still, clutching the crowbar to your chest.

They continue on, signified by the sound of more shattering glass.

Reaching towards the door of the closet, you attempt to shut it so your chances of getting seen weren't as severe.

Creak.

The closet door gave away your position.

You might as well have kissed your life goodbye.

The person above stops immediately at the sound and you hear their steps start down the stairs.

"Hello?" The person's voice is deep, yet soothing. If you weren't scared for your life, maybe you'd actually be calmed by it.

You hold your breath and prepare to attack with your new crowbar.

Their steps become soft, almost non-existent. You can no longer tell what their position is within the room.

You hear them inhale and drag out an exhale, followed by the smell of smoke.

It reminds you about something you don't want to remember.

You flinch as your hear something hit the closet door.

"You can't hide. I know you're in there... human." His once sweet voice turns into poison as you process what he's just said.

You slowly crawl to your feet, knowing that you can't deny your fate any longer.

But you still had some fight in you.

The door opens, but not by your hand. You take a minute to observe the monster.

He towers over you within a grimacing smirk.

A skeleton.

He has two cracks in his skull, on from his right eye to the top of his skull; and another that connects his left eye and mouth.

The black jacket he's wearing with a fluffy, white hood shows off his spine and ribs but also gives him a more fierce look.

His grey jeans hug his boney hips and his black combat boots only making him look taller.

The skeleton looks you over too, taking one last inhale of his cigarette before carelessly throwing it to the ground and stepping it out.

He begins to reach towards you, showing off the strange holes which are in the center of each of his hands.

Unaware of what he intends to do to you, you use the opportunity to escape.

You duck beneath his grasp and center your eyes on the back of his skull.

Raising your crowbar, you slam it down on his head.

A deafening crack comes from the impact and a black substance begins to ooze out.

He curses under his breath and hold his hand against the mark you left.

When he turns to look for you, you're already gone.