Damned (Alastor x OC)

Ch 42

This is the lullaby Aria sings in this chapter...you can listen now, or wait for when the part comes.

Alastor's POV

Where am I.

Looking around, I feel like this place should be familiar.

Forest surrounded me, but I couldn't see anything other than trees.

Slowly I started to walk, my steps taking me towards an unknown destination.

Suddenly the trees cleared, and my eyes widened.

My old house...

I thought I burned that down...

My pace stayed steady, approaching cautiously but quickly. Then the house seemed to change, morphing into a bigger mansion.

Wait...the king's vacation home...

That's right...I was out hunting.

Finally I reached the front door, reaching to open it. However, when the door was already cracked, leisurely drifting open as my hand neared it, a heavy feeling weighed in my chest.

I shoved the door open and stumbled in, worry setting in.

I left her here alone.

All alone.

"Aria!" I called out, my voice echoing through the large house.

My steps clicked as I walked, and I was frantically searching for her. Calling her name.

"My love! Where are you, answer me, please!" I called out, on the verge of tearing the house apart.

I just need to find her.

Finally, after looking through the entire house, I made it to our bedroom.

The door was cracked.

My throat felt tight.

I took slow steps towards it, my hands beginning to shake.

"Aria..." my voice quivered and I slowly reached forward and touched the knob.

I pushed the door open, stepping in the room.

But waiting for me on the other side wasn't the bedroom at all...my eyes widened, the worried grin on my face completely dropping as the tightness in my throat increased suffocatingly.

My attic.

It wasn't empty...standing near the middle was a...child.

I stepped in, and the door closed behind me, making me jump and turn.

It was just a wall now.

Turning back towards the child, I approached him.

"Hey, kid...what're you doing up here, where's your mama?" I said, crouching slightly so I didn't hit my head on the ceiling.

The child seemed to be crying, and I reached out to touch him. When my fingers made contact with his shoulder, he didn't react.

Gently, I turned him to face me, and immediately I gasped and my hand went over my mouth.

He was covered in cuts and bruises, tears streaking his face. His black hair was unruly and stuck to his forehead.

My brows knit together as I looked down at him.

One blue eye was visible to me. The other eye was badly injured.

What was the most unsettling about this image in front of me was the severity of the injured left eye...it looked like he'd been beaten badly.