Time Warp (Alastor x OC)

Ch 8

Oh my.

Look at this handsome devil.

Fawn's POV

When we eventually made it home, it was around mid afternoon. Having to walk from place to place took ages.

But it wasn't awful.

The weather was nice, and...Alastor actually isn't that bad of a guy when he's not trying to murder you.

Anywhere we went, he held the door for me. When we walked, he made sure I was on the inside of the sidewalk away from the street. He was patient, and overall just a sweet person.

You'd hardly recognize him had you met the same version of him I met last night.

It makes me wonder why and or what makes him kill. Did something happen to him? Was he abused? Does he just have that itch?

I'd love to know, but at the same time I don't want to know.

Once again, he walked around my side of the car, opening the door for me. On one arm he held all the bags we'd accumulated over the course of the day, and with the other he offered me his hand.

"Careful..." he hummed softly as he helped me out of the vehicle.

My feet were aching and I was itching to take these damn shoes off. I was also beginning to feel really hungry.

When I was out of the car, door shut behind me, I reached for some of my bags to help him carry them inside.

He pulled away from me, cocking an eyebrow before giving me a confused look.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm trying to help? I don't want to make you carry all that stuff," I explained like it wasn't obvious.

He simply chuckled and held the bags up above my head where I couldn't reach them.

"No worries, darling," he said with a teasing smile on his lips as he looked down at me. My eyelids lowered and I sighed heavily, turning away from him.

"Whatever," I mumbled as I walked towards the house.

He was quiet before I heard the gravel crunch as he began walking to catch up with me, which didn't take him long. Our steps stopped crunching as the gravel turned to grass, but a slight nudge on my arm made me turn to him.

Then I paused when I saw he was holding a smaller bag towards me. I wanted to tell him he doesn't have to treat me like I'm weak, but then I caught myself and thought for a second.

He's not doing any of this to be condescending.

He's doing it because I'm a lady, and whoever raised him must have raised him to treat women with respect, which is nice. He's being chivalrous and sweet, not withholding these things from me because he thinks I'm weak but because he thinks I shouldn't have to do it for myself.

I took the bag and gave him a tiny smile before turning forward again.

In all, this situation could've been a lot worse for me...I could've gotten a murderer who also thinks women are objects, not people.

It's just weird for me to feel grateful to him, because he's housing me and feeding me and making sure I have clothes to wear...but then I know he could snap on me at any second and slit my throat.

He walks a very, very fine line.

Once again he opened the door for me, letting me into the house first. Back inside this warm, cozy space...that belongs to one of the most violent killers in Louisiana history.