Strings of Fate

Chapter 11: Misunderstood

Alastor's POV:

 

-Y/n, before you go...

I hesitated for a few seconds if I should talk to Y/n about this. I knew this will change numerous aspects of our friendship together, but I can't let it go further without getting them in greater danger.

Those eyes should had never saw how horrible Hell is.

-I think we need to talk.

Their eyes blinked a few times before their lips replied to my words.

-Yes? What is to talk about Alastor?

-What happened in Arabelle's bistro. Your performance on stage.

Now that I had said it, I can't go back in time.

-I do appreciate your talent for singing and what you implied with that song.

I need to say this, there's nothing else that I can do. A relationship with them will only put me vulnerable and in danger. I need to keep my place as an Overlord. See their eyes full of pain is the last thing I want, from anyone and me included, but they need to stay as happy as possible. In a relationship with me, they probably wouldn't

-But that won't work for me.

Y/n's POV:

-But that won't work for me.

At this moment, it was like a familiar feeling ran through my veins. However, it wasn't exactly the same as that past feeling. Sure, I felt like my heart shattered and that time decided to stop his clock's tics and tacs. But still, it didn't shattered the same way and the clock didn't stop for the same reason.

Because this time, I was alone in this. And it isn't the church's bell that will ring with sorrow.

-Sure. I understand, don't worry about this Alastor.

I faked a smile, hiding how my heart was bleeding and crying from this harsh rejection. Maybe I should had known a man like him won't love me the same way I do. I should had expected this.

We decided to part ways, me back to my house and him back to his Radio Tower, which I still am not aware of where it is. I only let my heart cry, I do not want to worry the other cannibals and Rosie for now. Even though, I have to admit, only Rosie would actually know how to calm me down.

I continued to put on an act as I waved to the meat-lovers sinners of this small town, all joyous and eating fresh meat from the Emporium. But when the doors are close, people can finally drop the act and be themselves. Like I do now that my house's door is closed, my heart isn't alone to cry anymore.

My arms and wings all wrapped around myself: one held my waist, the other arm put the hand on my mouth, even though it was useless since no one could hear me, and my wings wrapped around me like a warm cage trying to protect me from emotions that were already hurting me badly.

I know I couldn't stop the water coming in my eyes. I accepted and understand why he refused and rejected me, but why does it hurts so much?

Walking through my sweet home, every color on the walls were not as deep and bright, my piano wasn't as melodious and the furnitures not as comfortable. Even the carpet that hid the horrible burnt wood was a hatred memory of this same church's upsetting bell ringing. An awful memory of how the cage that took my freedom got smaller and abominably harder to breathe through.

 

 

 

 

-Death hour: 6:53 am. I'm sorry for your loss, miss.

We all were there, listening to the doctor declaring the death of our second oldest as my mother fell down her knees, bawling her eyes out the news. My brothers, the four of them, were all around her, trying to comfort her the best they could.

Micheal, the oldest of us all, knelt in front of her and held her hands.

William, the third, was to her left and had his hands on her shoulders.

The twins, Elias and Oliver, were to her right. Oliver tried to soothe her by rubbing gently her back. Elias was hugging her at her waist and rest his head on hers.

All not crying, even if I knew they really wanted to.

I can also remember how my eyes froze on her completely burnt body. How the deep red blood stained the grass full of dew, how her body laid there while the doctor started to check me for my burnt skin. I couldn't feel the stinging feeling when he touched them. I was too shocked to feel it. So shocked that I couldn't cry, even if I wanted to as bad as my brothers.

-It's your fault Y/n... Everything's your fault, do you hear me!

That was the first and only thing she told me that day and when we got out the church after the funeral. I wanted to tell her how sorry I am, that I know it is all my fault, but no words passed my throat. Tears never felt down my eyes. And again, the cage around me became smaller and umbearable everyday. I lost this fake freedom I had before, I had none at this point.

And to say I only was 15...

 

 

How many times I wished that I could just freeze the picture and act like it never happened, in vain.

I was only 15, but I would still be her killer. The one who took the days she should had passed with us happily and the one who made her an unrecognizable charcoal body.

At least Heaven probably accepted her.

If you just knew how sorry I am for this accident Vic... I just hope you can forgive me.