*New Orleans Oct. 31, 1933*
Alastor's POV
This was not how I had hoped this night would go. I was getting sloppier with my kills I knew that, but I wasn't expecting them to figure it out so fast. Them detectives are smarter than they look, I'll give them that.
A gunshot rings out in the silence scaring away the crows. Wood chips fly off a nearby tree as the bullet whistles by my ear.
I turn quickly to the left attempting to lose the cops and dogs. It doesn't work nearly as well as I had hoped. I hear dogs growling at my feet. I trip and fall as one of the dogs bites my pant leg. I try to kick the thing off but it doesn't work well. I try to punch the mutt but another one bites my hand, shattering my wrist. I scream in pain.
With my none injured hand, I scratch at the dog's eyes and it drops my wrist. I notice a sharp stick laying nearby. I reach for it as I hear footsteps approaching. I grab the stick and stab the dog's neck with it causing the damn thing to let go of my leg. I stumble to my feet as the dog lay whimpering.
(Y/n) would hate me for what I did. She loved animals, always told me not to harm them and I never did, until now. She always told me they were like us, innocent souls tortured by the wicked.
I hear the shot of a gun and pain fills my senses. I look down to see blood soaking my shirt at my side. I place my hand on the wound and apply pressure to slow the bleeding, not that it would do much good since the police are gaining on me.
I limp run through the forest as the voices get louder and closer. I recognize the woods and realize I've come full circle and am now back home. In the distance, I see the tree I buried (y/n) under. Its dark branches reach for me. Its shadow looms as if to say 'you'll be safe here.'
I hobble over and take cover under the branches. I know I've left a bloody trail. I know the dogs will find me easily but I can't find it in me to run anymore. Blood drips through my fingers as I hold my hand to my side. My other hand scrapes through the dirt as if (y/n) was going to reach through the ground taking my hand. I imagine her pulling me down with her beneath the soil and stroking my hair whispering about how it would all be okay. A rare tear slips down my cheek, from emotional or physical pain, I do not know.
Ever since her death, I've felt a presence as if (y/n) was watching over me. It calmed me at night when I would have nightmares. It felt nice to know she hadn't abandoned me. However, now I don't feel anything. Maybe this time she did leave me. I wouldn't blame her. It is after all my fault she's gone. She could have lived a happy life, had a family. What would she have thought if she met me now? Would she scream? Run? Would she turn me in? Would I kill her if she tried?
Would she still love me?
The snapping of branches pulls me from my thoughts. I look to the side and see a single officer walking towards me. His boots muddy from the race through the woods and stomping through lakes of mud.
"After everything you're still smiling?" He asks.
"Mother always said you're never fully dressed without a smile," I reply. I widen my smile as more pain shoots up my side. Blood is pooled next to me in the dirt.
The officer looks around and notices (y/n)'s name carved into the tree. I remember carving those letters, my hands still covered in dirt from burying her. "(y/n). I remember her. She used to hang out by the river or in the radio station. I listened to her voice every night on the radio until she disappeared. I was gonna ask her to the dance before that night. Everyone thought she had run away sick of her father. Some thought he took her to the river and they both drowned. But that's not what it looks like now." The officer looks from me to the tree again. "You killed her didn't you."
YOU ARE READING
Twisted
Fanfiction⚠️warning; this story will contain language, gore, and some sensitive topics. ⚠️ Words- 69,681 A family of murders, what could go wrong? Growing up in New Orleans was fun for the most part. Well except for having to go home to a cruel father. (Y/n)...