Aux Champs- Despite Everything, Its still you

Chapter 1

Alastor sat in his study, the jazz from the radio echoing quietly throughout the room. The fire crackled ever so slightly and provided him with a comfortable warmth, making him relax further into the soft couch. The tea he was sipping on was warm, even hot. It was always the best mix to go with a newspaper or book, which he had in his hand as he read calmly with a blanket situated across his lap. Rain outside sprinkled onto the roof, the thunder of the sound echoing throughout the home. It was calming; it helped Alastor take his mind off his career.

He loved his job more than anything; it took up most of his life. He was young—twenty-three to be exact. He had already hit number one on the radio two years in a row, making headlines on the front cover of the New York Times. He was intensely proud, knowing his mother would have been proud.

Alastor's breath slowed at the thought of his mother. He had grown up in a mixed family, with his mother being black and his father being white. It was hard, especially growing up under such circumstances at the time. Hell, even when he first revealed his face to the public, many people ridiculed him, upset about the fact he was dark-skinned. Of course, all but that mattered to him. His mother was a beautiful soul; he couldn't think of anyone else who was as caring and sweet. She had supported him through his beginnings, even providing him with financial help when Alastor decided it would be best to move to New Orleans for his career. He was about 18 at the time, or, as he would say, a stupid child. When he got to New Orleans, he found himself—a different part of himself he never knew was there.

He began to build a name for himself, frequently visiting pubs to sit at the bar and have drinks with the locals. People immediately liked him, most describing him as a charming young man. He kept meeting more people, creating more connections. One day, he met an older man; he had to be in his 50's or older, pushing even 65. He drank and laughed with Alastor, talking the night away. Before they parted ways, he gave Alastor a small card, on the front of which was a phone number with "LUMMINGHAM STUDIOS." . The very next day, he decided to call.

His first broadcast was a hit, sweeping the people of Orleans off their feet. His listeners grew fast, soon beginning to reach the rest of Louisiana. It has been only about 8 months since he left home, and more importantly, his mother.

The first few weeks, Alastor insisted on writing a letter to his mother every day, going so far as to try to convince her to call him once a week now that he was in the big city. But, as time went on, the letters slowly stopped. By month 4, all contact with his mother had stopped, and he was too deep into his new-found belonging to even realize it. He came home one evening to see a note that had been slipped under the door. The front of the letter had cursive writing, with the address planted in the right corner. It was the day he found out his mother had died.

Suddenly, Alastor was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the muffled whining coming from behind him. He turned around to look at the man on the floor. He was old and dirty, around 40. His skin was stained with blood, both dry and wet. He lay on the floor bound by rope, which wrapped his arms and legs, slowly going up to his throat, where it tightened and went behind his head and over his mouth, effectively choking him.

Alastor had almost forgotten about the bastard, too focused on his own head to even acknowledge the bloodied man he had in his study. He signed before standing up, turning around, and looking at the man. He almost felt bad for the guy. Almost.

The man continued to cry and whine as Alastor walked near, trying to back up against the wall to no avail. Alastor chuckled, crouching down to be more level with the man.

"I don't bite! Calm down." He hummed; it would have almost sounded sweet if he wasn't talking to his soon-to-be latest victim. The man continued to thrash, desperately trying to escape his bounds. Alastor giggled a bit before reaching down to move the rope, allowing the man to speak.