Dangerous Desires (Book 2)

Alastor

~ WARNING: So this chapter is short, but it is sad and dark. It tells of why Alastor ran and about his childhood. Of how he got those scars all over his body. ~

                          ~~~~~~~

"You are worthless."

The heels of my shoes click on the pavement, heart thundering in my ears, and Father's words ringing crystal clear in my mind.

"Sissy piece of shit. You are a failure as a boy and you'll be a failure as a man. I pity whatever woman you knock up."

Slow steps quicken into a full out sprint, faces and buildings blur by in a confusing and jumbled mass.

"He is such a disappointment, Tracy. How could you raise such a heathen?"

Tears blur my vision and it's a fight to keep my smile in place. I must look wild and unkept to onlookers, but I'm not focused on them. I'm focused on the jaw dropping, heart stopping, and gut wrenching news I just received.

I'm going to be a father.

A big part of me is terrified of being a dad. Another smaller part is... excited?

That's new.

Before, I never wanted to be a father. Not even while holding the small child belonging to Molly, although I did feel a strange twinge of... longing. Never has the idea of being a father been so... appealing. I swore to myself I'd never be one. Ever.

Only so I wouldn't chance becoming like him. Like...

Coming to a staggering stop, leaning against the side of a building, I suck in a deep breath of the foul smelling air around me. Tears track fresh down my cheeks and my hands won't stop shaking.

"Tree hugging sissy boy!"

I can't do this.

Flashes of memories from my childhood crash over me like a tidal wave. Beatings. Sharp kitchen knives. Pale skin drenched in blood. Mother doing her best to nurse me back to health with wounds of her own, inflicted by father. Cigar burns on my legs and pale white scars covering my body from father's impatience. Every scar, a sick reminder of what he did to me.

"Disgusting."

Stop...

"Vile."

Stop.

"Won't amount to anything!"

Stop!

"You are no son of mine."

"STOP!" A scream of pure rage tears from my throat as glowing symbols retract from my body, limbs lengthening. "Je ne suis pas comme toi!!"

I am not you Father!

"Sniveling little whelp."

"Tu n'as plus de contrôle sur moi..." I whisper, eyes glued to the ground, hands going up to tug at my hair in duress. "Je me suis libéré de toi."

Arms curling around my torso, I slide down the wall, ears flattening as a sob rises in my throat, threatening to wipe away my smile.

He can't hurt me. He can't hurt me. He can't hurt me.

Not anymore.

I bury my face in my knees, uncaring of who sees me like this or what other's think.

I just... need to be alone right now.