Cradles | Alastor Angst

4

Hi. It has been a week. I am so sorry bro!! writers block is a bitch.

TW:

- SH
- AU/HC
- Gore
- Fluff lmao
- fourth wall glue required pls
- Very OOC characters
- No ships(yet;)) dw
- Mom vaggie
- Niffty is a snitch

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Nobody's POV

Alastor shut her door behind her, quickly walking into the bathroom. She dropped her blanket, stripped off her hoodie, binder and bandages, and leaned over the sink. Her cut was a bloody mess, rivulets of ruby liquid running down her fur. The pain was excruciating, fire coursing through her veins.

Her whole torso looked like a mess, her chest fluff matted with blood and her slash wound oozing redbull mixed with food colouring. The black veins branching out had thickened and spread, turning her chest into a ribbed spiderweb. She cursed, squeezing her eyes shut.

How could she have let this happen to herself? How could she let this happen to the hotel? She groaned, rubbing her forehead with a bloody hand. Her eyes drifted downward, landing on the bloody box cutter on the corner of the counter. She shifted nervously. She had promised... But again, promises were made to be broken.

She sighed, picking up the knife and holding it to her dark forearms. Gritting her teeth, she applied a little bit of pressure before shaking her head and putting it down.

She wrapped her torso tightly, angrily tucking the bandages properly. Throwing on a shirt, she balled her hands into fists, flexing her fingers, frustrated. Tears stung her eyes as she smiled wider and wider, her hands shaking. Scratching her arms, angry red lines began to crisscross her upper arms. Tears began to slide down her cheeks as her breathing came in short gasps.

She grabbed the box cutter again, barely hesitating before she dug it into her arm. Blood spurted out as she dragged it downwards. She did the same to the second arm, mouth opening in a silent cry of pain as tears rolled down her face. 

The box cutter slipped from her bloody grasp as she fell to the floor, biting her fingers to avoid screaming. The fine fur on her arms was thick with blood and small pieces of shredded flesh. She balled her legs to her chest, biting her knees, making small pinpricks as she began to feel woozy from the blood loss.

She weakly crawled to the cabinet. Reaching up for the bandages, her hand brushed her pill bottle and it fell to the bloody floor, cracking open. She tried to scoop them up, putting them on the counter and grabbing the bandages, tightly wrapping each arm.

Choked sobs escaped her mouth as she shook on the floor. What was happening? Why was it happening?

She fell into the mixture of blood and tears, staining her face and hair, the cold tiles pressed into her side uncomfortably. Shutting her eyes, she curled up, head woozy from the blood loss, and fell into darkness.
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Nobody's POV

Vaggie walked through the red-carpeted hallway, stalling at the smell of blood. Narrowing her eyes, her gaze flicked to Alastor's room. Of course. Of course it would be him.

She shifted, then pushed open the door, physically stepping back at the smell of iron so potent she could taste it. Wincing, she stepped into the room. It was pretty basic, white and grey and red and black. Nothing too fancy.

The door to what she assumed to be the bathroom was open just a crack, reeking of blood. She walked closer, placing a hand on the door. She paused.

'Al? You decent?'