#pbwc

This was probably a nightmare, or so Griffith thought.

Logically, why would the corpse of his wife stand in front of his desk right now? First of all, a corpse. How could a corpse walk and "breathe"? Shouldn't she belong to the grave? Shouldn't it be an eternal sleep?

But thank goodness, for him being the first living person she visited on the first day as a walking corpse, probably. That was love, loyalty, and devotion of a lover. Even at her "worst". Griffith had no words to describe this reunion perfectly, especially since he had just woken up from his sleep. He would most likely refused to stay late for the rest of his life, if his late wife continued to do something like this again tomorrow -- a jumpscare.

Griffith was an ambitious, honest, and determined man. If he wanted something, he would work for it in the best, clean, and effective way. He didn't like playing around, betting his luck into something vague. They said his business was a weak-start, saw his intolerance for illegal shortcut as naivety and innocence, while of course they believed Griffith wasn't that kind of man. The main reason why he was able to achieve a life this successful was his own loyal colleague. The one who stayed with him every night to finish the blueprint and reports. What seemed heavy became lighter. His business rose high, just like the buildings he used to sketch. At last, the best "Thank You" he could give to Amy was an offer for marriage. And a castle. And a family.

Oh, that last one. Was that the reason Amy here didn't seem to visit for joy? Because he never give her that family? Wait, he technically had given it, right? They had a son. They had those "Family Hangout" days back when she was still alive. See, the gift, the "Thank You", was already given. So when she died, it should no longer be relevant, right? Because what was the point of keeping them if the said owner was no longer there?

'What, Amy? Are you implying that I missed your death letter? You never wrote one.' his defense mechanism said inside his head.

The creepy part of this reunion was that she didn't even move a single bit since the minute he woke up. He could only hear her breathing through the rotten skin (How did that even make sense, again?). Not a single word out yet. Not even a greetings. Griffith would like to conclude that this corpse version of his wife was unable to do speeches, most likely what they called "Zombie", but an educated one. Though if she did end up going to stand there until the night ended, then she should've done something that wouldn't bore him.

There was this tiny, coward, idea of Griffith to escape from this nightmare. The other idea, surprisingly the strongest one, was to ask her "The weather". He was not a fan of horror, but he knew the worst possible outcomes of both choices, probably if this corpse was not really Amy he had known. So, what should he say for now? A compliment for her beauty? Nah, he had done the same kind of compliments years before. The results were absolute rejections and three days of emotional ignorance. Worst could be now that she was a creature from horror movies. So nope he would not like to deal with it.

Fine, then he should asked straight to the point. No matter how weird this may sound.

"Good night..Amy. Can I..help you?"

There. He asked it. To the corpse. He waited for twenty seconds before the corpse eerily lifted her head. Her gaze now aimed directly a him. She wasn't breathing. Why would a dead person breathe anyway. But as she opened her rotten mouth, Griffith could hear the tiny groan inside. That was abnormal.

"Why..aren't you with Kai now?" she asked hoarsely.

He blinked. "Why..why am I not with Kai now?" He looked away, thinking before replying. "I'm working-" "That is not an excuse." Oh, the tension rose. "..Amy, darling. I am indeed working right now. Okay, I might got a little sleepy before. But you know why what these papers in my desk mean." Griffith said, looking for an excuse. Unfortunately, Amy knew him well. Him..back in the past. "How important, Griffith?" "Very important, darling." "The due is in three months." She slightly snapped. Griffith's calm demeanor vanished.

The "Zombie" could read.

He fixed his posture. "Amy, look, I'm quite busy-" "How busy, Griffith?" She asked firmly again. Griffith was left speechless for a few seconds. Though his fear for this creepy creature slowly receeded, replaced with the image of real Amy. Still, the adrenaline didn't disappear. Yet now, his brain had decided that he was not going to escape this ghost. He's going into arguments with his wife. Classic couple things. He could do it. He had been doing it. He was an expert (Really, man?).

"Amy, look. Our company is growing. It is no longer the small one we have been struggling to maintain. It is an achievement, darling. I made it. You made it. And I'll keep it strong. For you." He softly explained. Amy turned her head a bit, sighing in disappointment. Sensing the lies. "If being big means no longer hard to maintain, I'm pretty sure you have more spare time to spend." Before she could continue, he already cut her off. "Yes, and that's the key, Amy. Use the spare time to make sure our company keeps standing strong. Ever heard about champion, darling? It is a good thing to win once. It is greater if you win twice, three times, four, five, for eternity! Yet, that's not an easy task, Amy. That's why.." He said, raising his eyebrows in a prideful way. Amy paused, her fingers curled into the papers he had spent "signing" all night (What a waste of papers! He should've learned Microsoft Word). Words seemed to stuck inside her mouth. "It seems to be the other way around, shouldn't it?" She muttered. "And I think I prefer back when you're not this 'busy'." Griffith frowned at the commentary. He looked away, laying his back on the chair. He chose to not add another argument. Her answers, to him, started to get.."illogical".

"Griffith," She called out his name at last, firmly. "Why aren't you with Kai?" She repeated the question, much to his annoyance. "Amy, he's no longer our little boy." He quickly retorted. "He is." She stated. "Amy, I mean-" "What? You think I didn't see through the way you refer to your life now? Years have passed. And I can't believe the first thing you bring up to me is your business." She walked closer to him. "Ours, Amy." "No. Yours. Do not involve me in your attempts to escape our family." She snapped. Griffith paused, before lowering his eyebrows. "If you care so much about our family, maybe you shouldn't take the bullet."

"..what?!"

The air slowly turned cold. "..Griffith, are you saying-" "He's just a son." Her breath hitched upon hearing his sentence. "Griffith, that is your son." She raised her voice slightly. "No, Amy. He's yours. You're asking for a family. And I give it to you. Wish granted." Griffith coldly explain. "..wish granted?" she muttered, looking down. "You're..referring to your son as a..gift?" "Your gift, Amy." He corrected. "Then..tell me, Griff, if the owner of the gift is no longer here, what will you do to him?" She asked hoarsely. Griffith paused. "I-..I'll see what can I get from it." He hesitantly answered. "And if there's none?" Griffith didn't answer. But then, Amy smiled. As if his expression now gave her an already clear answer.

"You'll throw him away."

Griffith flinched a bit. "No. Amy-" "Oh it is. I know you so well, Griffith." Suddenly, the image of his late gorgeous wife spiraled, twisted into the former corpse that had been standing in front of him. She was far closer now. Her throat let out an eerie groan. His eyes widened. His instinct told him to escape. But her fingers already pulled his white shirt forward into her face. He couldn't move, but it's not because the corpse was stronger than him. He was simply frozen. "Amy, darling, listen to me just once!" He shouted. "Darling? You said you're never part of my family." She shouted, as her voice went corrupted with a monstrous distortion. Griffith tried to convince himself that this was not truly Amy. She would never be this violent, scary, intimidating, or most likely…

She would never walk out of her grave.

"..Dad?" Griffith's eyes fluttered open. "Are you feeling well?" The voice of his son snapped him out of the nightmare. He glanced around what turned out to be his bedroom. He glanced back at his son. "What happened?" "We found you laying on the floor this morning. I have contacted a doctor to check up on you few minutes ago. He had just left. He said you're dehydrated." Kai explained. "Oh..yeah. I see." Griffith looked sideways, convincing himself that his encounter with the boy's mother last night was really just a nightmare. "Rest, Dad. I'll take over some of your projects." "Good. Please do." Griffith closed his eyes. There were silence for a few seconds. He did not hear Kai walking out of the room yet. Not even a single voice. He opened his eyes again, only to meet with a blank stare out of Kai's eyes. "..Kai?" He anxiously asked. "..no. It's nothing." "What? What is it? Tell me." Kai took a breath, glancing deep into his father's eyes.

"Did mom say something?"

--

Wow that's long. And yeah, I don't think I need to write who is who regarding the names I gave to Kai's parents (Because writing them as "The Dad" and "The Mom" felt weird). Oh yea, for the context, in my fic, Kai's mom Amy is implied to get sh0t to death by a mafia or smth.