Strings of Fate

Chapter 22: Uncanny Dream

Alastor's POV:

All of this started in a pitch black place I never saw. My shadow wasn't next to me, I was completely alone. At least, that's what I thought for the first minutes.

I walked some time in this empty place. Only for, a few seconds later, hear faint laughter from somewhere out of my view. I turned to the side, where I could see a young adult with loose hair, a violin in their hands, old notes from a past melody could be heard. It was like we could see every note played from their hands, like a endless white thread of them that was moving in a small invisible breeze. The youthful had their back faced to me, blocking the view to make them as someone faceless. 

And in a blink, a sudden small white house was in the background of two people, which seemed to be a father and their child. The child was amazed by the stars up our heads, and the blink showed them singing accompagned by an old guitar that made it's time. Nevertheless, they both looked happy and loved that time together. 

The next blink made this empty and bizzare world full of light, blurry houses and an old road full of small bumps. Four boys, each looking like an older or younger version of the other. Well, with a few differences. All of them were running around, one chasing the others as a game. What seemed to be the mother, a quite short woman with long hair, was accompanied by her daughter, her exact person, to plant new flowers of bright colors and appearances. But there was one child taking my attention, one seeming familiar in this calm chaos.

That child was coming outside, a small, simple crimson spring dress on them and their short hair braided to not let any hair strands in their face. Nothing that I would recognize only from this. But something in the way their smile stretched their juvenile visage, something in the way they talk. Even their voice, however a little more high-pitched, sounded like someone I know. How their eyes smiled while trying to run with their brothers, who let them play with them four. How, behind this small group, the mother stop gardening to walk ladylike to the head of the family, like we would say before.

-We had let that go for too long now. They have to act more ladylike. We can let that go on longer, they are 10 already!

-Adella, let them being themselves. They are already wearing a dress just like you ask them to wear more often instead of trousers and shirts.

-Don't you care about the looks of people Henry! They listens to you more than me. You have to tell them to stop, or I'll do it!

-Adella, please, not in front of the kids...

Everything were spinning from every corner as the feeling of falling in the unknown was the first thing I could notice. Next was the realization why the youngest seemed so familiar.

They are Y/n.

No wonder they were feeling so similar.

But I'm sure I saw them somewhere else. The question is: when?

When the feeling stopped for good, all I could see is a burned house. The white victorian building was now showed to be ravaged by a past fire as the sun was only up for a short time period. But, except the house, many things seemed different. The oldest son wearing a ring on his finger. The firefighters around them all and checking them for injuries. Them all wearing black. The father and the eldest daughter missing in the picture. Well, if the old man was right, only he should be missing. 

But the most different was how the mother and brothers seemed to react now with the youngest of the pack. Hatred for some, pity from others. But mostly, pain.

They didn't seemed hurt in any way. Well, except for Y/n.

Their body were covered with a blanket, gently accompanied to an ambulance while their gaze were stuck in a shock, traumatized one. And while the mother was cursing at them, something I couldn't hear for the life out of me, a coal colored body was disappearing in those bags for deceased on the crime scenes. 

Did they done that?

As I turned around, the next memory was showing Y/n all growned up, seeming only in their early 20'. But their voice was singing, calmly dancing in the night to get back to sleep a small baby. One that seemed to be born only a month or two ago. Their voice was quiet, but the short sounds coming from the newborn showed how it appreciated it, how it loved them.

Next blink was a total different scene. Like a memory I lived. Me hiding in a forest, gun in one hand. Trying to have my victim in my sights while the cold air, which didn't bothered me that much, was envelopping my skin.

I remember how I waited hours for this. It was when I started my second life, the one being a murderer behind closed doors. One that the police didn't suspected a thing yet of, they didn't expect me to be a killer. Probably because I know how to lure them enough. But this time, this memory coming like this, that was suspicious.

What could possibly be the thread that joins those memories that aren't mine to this one?

-Well? What did you saw?

The old man asked me, sat on my radio chair as his hand left my wrist.

After Y/n got took by Andrew, I was the one who had to take care of him. And the closest place I knew would be fine for the moment was my Radio Tower. I had to take care of everything on him.

Sad thing that they forgot he'll only respawn after some time if it was to the heart.

And while they would recover, their hand had grabbed my wrist and those visions appeared.

-Not much. A few things here and there. But I can confirm you: the reason they gone to Hell was an accident.

-But you did saw how Y/n died, didn't you?

Why did he grabbed my wrist, would you ask. Well, he wanted me to tell him what happened to them, what made them go here. To make sure it was nothing related to the motherfucker who's their soul owner now.

-Yes. Yes I did sir.

-And? What happened to them?

-Murder sir. They got a bullet near their heart.

Heartbroken. And I'm not trying to make any silly joke of this, he was indeed looking heartbroken.

Which was quite funny to watch.

Nevertheless, I knew and saw who that murderer could be. I knew their full name, I knew who it was. And, without frowning, I told him who it was.

And I knew that I couldn't be wrong about this.