The Radio Demon (Alastor X reader)

An interrogation?

// Y/n's POV //

I have no clue how long it's been... my last free day was December 19th, 1926... That date stuck with me... I attempted to count the days in the beginning, but Boston made me constantly count it attempts to keep me sane I guess? So I completely lost count. I've honestly no clue as to what is keeping me in such despair. I can barely feel anything except sadness, fear and pain. Nothing else... Oh, maybe anger... I'm so fucking angry. Previously to this bullshit, I was always a calm and caring person. Now? Now I'm constantly fantasizing about ripping Boston's spinal cords out and strangling them with it. I'm mad at Alastor for killing people and dragging my pathetic ass into it. I'm mad at these people for killing James. I'm mad at myself for killing that man in 1918... No... I will never regret that. Never. But I am mad at myself for letting this happen. I've constantly been thinking over the situation that resulted in me being here and hating myself so much more every time I recall a time when I could have stopped this.

I haven't seen Boston in a while, maybe a week? Or maybe a month... I have no clue. Some random people once in a while come in and give me food and mop up the blood. But that all the human contact I've had in a long time.
I sometimes hear Boston talking with people around the rooms attached to mine. At first, I thought that there were other rooms here, maybe holding others. But recently, I noticed that the voices are coming from above me. Which means I'm in a basement. And judging by how I can roughly hear them while they're talking quietly. I doubt there are other people in here getting tortured.

I hear a door creak and then slam shut. Boston.

I look up and blow my h/c out of my face.

"Been a while, eh doll?" He says cheerfully as ever

"Yup" I sigh

"So" He sighed and pulled his chair up, facing me "What are we gonna' do today?"

I look around slightly, attempting to come up with an answer.

"Let's chat" He stretches "I'm going to ask you something, then you can ask me."

I bite my lip slightly. Not knowing where I'm going to start with my questions. And not knowing what I'm going to have to answer.

"Alright" I clear my throat "What's the date?"

He chuckles "April 23rd, 1927."

"Four months" I whisper to myself

"Yep. Quite a while we've been together, doll." He coughs a bit "So! You've known your dear friend Alastor for.. Hm... bout' nine years then?"

"Yes"

"So, you'd know lots about him then?"

"What is this? A fucking interrogation? A onesided one least." This is it this is where I die.

"Sorry Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. One question at a time" He puts his right rubber-gloved hand over his non-existent heart. Fuck.

"Will you let me go?" I curse myself, already knowing the answer.

"Probably not. I mean, we've already grown so close already, I couldn't bear to part with you"

I sigh. My body refusing to let me cry anymore. I mean, there's probably none left anyways.

"Alrighty then,-" he stops himself "Oh, and if I feel you're lying, I'll have no choice but to go to other methods of finding the answers." He nods his head to the cart of tools on the other side of the room. I shiver and nod. "Perfect. So, do you know anything about Alastor's 'early life'?"

I lift an eyebrow while looking away. "Like what?" Honestly, I knew some, but nothing some notorious mobsters would want to know...

"Where he was born, his parents, siblings..." He cracks his heck a bit "Just anything like that?"

I think about it for a second. Lots of the time when I tried to bring up his past, he just tensed up and brushed it off, or changed the subject.

"I don't know much" Boston raised his eyebrow which made me panic "His mother was an amazing cook." I bite my inner lip "He likes whiskey, and hates dogs" I look at Boston, waiting for a reaction. He nods at me, edging me to go on. "He doesn't like tea?" I say looking down.

"Anything more about his family? Even how he reacted when you brought them up."

I look around, pretending to think and recall. But honestly, I don't want them to find anything on Alastor. All I remember was that Alastor always tensed up when I brought up his relationship with his parents and family, but even that could be a hint.

"He always looked up to his father, he was his hero." I narrowed my eyebrows, to seem like I'm thinking "He said he had many siblings, all younger. And..." I look up at Boston whos writing these down on a notepad "And he always got really excited when I brought them up like he was incredibly proud of them."

Boston looks up at me and studies my face, searching for a lie. He nods to himself and sighs. I felt my heart beating out of my chest.

"Your turn doll"

I internally let out a sigh of relief. I take a second to think about what to ask him. I look to him, searching for an answer.

"If I'm never getting out, why do you care if I see your face?"

"Sorry?"

"Why do you wear that mask?"

He sighs and stands up. "Alright." He takes one hand and removes his mask from the bottom.

I swallow hard.

He has these brutal scars all around his face, going down to his neck. He's missing his left eye and Its half-closed. It almost looks like he has no lips, except bits and pieces here and there. He's bald, but I already knew that because the mask only covered his face. He nods and puts his mask back on. Picking his notebook up on the way. He laughs.

"You'll be next, Doll."

// Authors notes //

Sorry guys, homework has been awful these past weeks. And I've literally been sick every weekend...

1.3k... Jeez...

Thank you all so much.

I'll try to post more frequently 

-Gray