Infernal Rivalry - The Clash Of Vox And Alastor

Chapter 45: Collecting Belongings

(Vox's POV)

I receive a message from Rosie, informing me that Alastor is out of the house for the day, providing me with the opportunity to retrieve my belongings. With no one else home, I gather my resolve and head towards the house, bracing myself for the solitude that awaits me within those walls. As I approach the familiar doorstep, a sense of unease washes over me, accompanied by a pang of nostalgia for the times when this place felt like home. Now, it stands as a stark reminder of the fractured relationship between Alastor and me, the echoes of our heated exchange still lingering in the air. With a heavy heart, I unlock the door and step inside, the silence of the empty house engulfing me like a suffocating shroud. Every corner holds memories of happier times, now tainted by the bitterness of our recent conflict. I steel myself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm me and make my way to the bedroom to gather my belongings.

As I step into the bedroom, a rush of memories floods my mind, each one carrying the weight of the emotions tied to this place. The room remains untouched, frozen in time since the day I last left it. My belongings sit exactly where I left them, as if waiting patiently for my return. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I lower my screen into my hands, overcome by a whirlwind of intense emotions. The memories of Alastor's kindness flood back to me, reminding me of the day he found me in that dark alley, offering me refuge and a sense of belonging I had never known. I close my eyes, allowing the memories to wash over me, each one etched into the fabric of this room. I recall the moment I first saw my reflection in the mirror, the disbelief and wonder that filled me as I stared at the unfamiliar face staring back at me. It was a defining moment, marking the beginning of a journey of self-discovery and acceptance. But now, as I sit here amidst the remnants of our fractured relationship, those memories serve as bittersweet reminders of what once was and what could have been. The weight of it all threatens to crush me, leaving me grappling with a sense of loss and longing for the bond we once shared.

Standing up, I approach the mirror and gaze at the reflection staring back at me. It's not a typical sight—a face comprised of a sleek, television screen, displaying vibrant blue colours, framed by a sleek black frame. The red eyes embedded within the screen seem to hold a hint of sadness, reflecting the turmoil swirling within me. As I study my unusual features, a sense of disconnection washes over me. This face, this form—it's not who I used to be. It's a constant reminder of the changes I've undergone, both physically and emotionally. The memories flood back—the way I looked that day. But now, as I stand before this mirror, I no longer recognize the man I've become. The person staring back at me seems like a stranger, someone I can't quite grasp or understand. It's a jarring realization, one that leaves me feeling adrift and unsettled. I reach out tentatively, as if trying to touch the image in the mirror, to bridge the gap between who I was and who I've become. But the reflection remains unchanged, a stark reminder of the journey I've undertaken, the choices I've made, and the person I've ultimately become.

As I empty out the contents of the wardrobe into a bag, memories of shopping trips with Alastor flood my mind. I recall the times we spent browsing through stores, his keen eye for fashion guiding me as I tried to emulate his style. There was a certain allure to his aesthetic, a confidence in the way he carried himself that I longed to possess. I remember the excitement of trying on new clothes, the thrill of discovering pieces that mirrored Alastor's distinctive look. Each item I chose was a reflection of my desire to fit in, to be accepted, to be like him in every way possible. But now, as I pack away these clothes, I can't help but feel a sense of loss. The garments that once held so much significance, that served as symbols of my aspiration to be like Alastor, now seem like empty shells, devoid of meaning. With each item I fold and place into the bag, I'm reminded of the distance that has grown between us, the fracture in our relationship that I fear may never fully heal. And yet, even as I pack away these reminders of what once was, a part of me still clings to the hope that one day, things might be different, that we might find a way back to each other. But for now, all I can do is gather my belongings and try to move forward, uncertain of what the future holds.