So It's A Deal Then? | Alastor × Reader |

Chapter 15: •| Serial Reaper |•

Warning: This chapter contains: blood, violence, murder, and gore. So I'll warn you before you begin. This chapter might be disturbing for the others so Trigger Warning. ⚠️

1917
New Orleans

Narrator's Pov

The moment Alastor witnessed it all, he was not in his usual self. He began to take a step, slow and steady before kneeling down and grabs a shard of glass from the floor.

His father kept beating his mother's unmoving body, grunting and slurred cursing, showing no mercy. By the bottle glass shards everywhere, his bloodshot eyes, and the scent of alcohol was enough proof that he was drunk.

"You bitch! Die you whore!" his father yelled out, before lifting his arm for a last blow. Until someone screamed and tackled him down, caughting him off guard. Greg grunted and faces who was behind this, and their eyes met. Alastor's eyes were filled with hatred and murderous content. His smile was no longer plastered on his lips.

"You.. you Monster!" Alastor yelled out as he raised the glass shard he's been holding.

Greg's eyes went in horror, the scene making him immediately sober. "W-wait! Al-" but it was too late. Alastor stabbed his chest without even thinking it over. His mind.. was made up. His father chokes from his own blood, grabbing his son's arm instinctively. "A-alastor!"

But Alastor wasn't done.

"This is for Mama." he says, his tone deep and laced with venom.

He pulled out the glass shard and stabbed him again.

Again.

And again.

And again.. and again.

Alastor didn't show any remorse, as he stabbed him mercilessly. He poured all his hatred from every stab. Greg's screams caused Alastor to grin, ear to ear. He started to laugh like a maniac would.

In that moment, Greg learned something new.. fear. He saw his son's cruel eyes, his sinister smile, and his sadistic laughter filled his ear drums in his final moments. His breathing ragged while coughing out blood. When Alastor calmed down a bit, he leaned closer, eyeing his father in disgust.

"Any last words, Father?" he inquired, his voice cold and menacing.

Greg couldn't speak nor move. Alastor watched his father struggled for breath, his once dominating figure now reduced to a helpless, bloodied mess. The sinister grin on Alastor's face twisted further as he gripped the bloodied glass shard in his hand.

"Pathetic," Alastor muttered under his breath. "All your life, you controlled us with fear. Now, look at you. Helpless. Weak."

Greg's eyes fluttered, his body trembling as his strength ebbed away. Alastor leaned in closer, his voice a venomous whisper.

"This is for her. For all the pain you caused."

With that, Alastor plunged the glass shard one final time, aiming directly at his father's chest. Greg's body convulsed before going limp. The room fell into a chilling silence, broken only by Alastor's ragged breathing.

As the adrenaline ebbed away, the gravity of what he had done began to sink in. He turned to the corner of the room where his mother lay dead, her whole body bruised and her face pale.

"Ma..." Alastor whispered, his voice breaking. Dropping the weapon, he crawled over to her, his hands trembling. He gently cradled her body, tears spilling freely from his eyes.