Injuries (RadioSnake) (Hazbin Hotel)

Memories

Alastor was falling. It was as if a thick, black void was sucking him into it's inky depths. Then, the memories came. As hard as Alastor tried to block them out, they came to him in an overwhelming flood. The first time he rode his bike as a little boy, only to have it taken from him. His father beating his mother, whiskey bottle in hand. The crack of a hog whip and sharp pain on his back as his father shouted at him. His mother, dying in bed from illness. And then.. the worst memory came. He had been hunting, a favorite past time for him. Then the dogs. The dogs came, and tore him apart.

Alastor screamed into the void, tearing at his hair, trying to block out the memories. They hurt too much. Throughout his time in Hell, he had learned to block out his past life in Lousiana. Very rarely he had nightmares of it, but nothing had ever been like this. His memories were often spotty, not all at once. The inky blackness continued to crush down upon Alastor, making him feel small and weak. He could almost here the mocking laughter of his classmates, the cruel, sharpness of his father's voice, and the overwhelming sound of the dogs. Alastor crumpled as the pain proved too great for him. He could not handle what had once been his difficult life.

It was 2 A.M. in the Victorian house. Sir Pentious sat poised above the bed where Alastor lay. He had carried the Radio Demon to his room after he had blacked out. Unsure of where to lay the younger demon, he layed him in his own bed. He watched the demon, wary that this was only a trap, and Alastor was simply waiting to pounce on him. He had gotten his minions to bandage Alastor's wounds, though they were reluctant to help someone who had threatened their boss.

Sir Pentious didn't know why he had the urge to help Alastor, since the two had clearly been rivals in the past. Perhaps, after all these years in Hell, he still had some humanity in him. The Radio Demon shifted softly in his sleep, and Sir Pentious tensed, expecting an attack. However, the longer he looked at the deer demon, he saw how truly helpless the powerful demon looked. He looked so vulnerable and small in Sir Pentious's bed. Alastor shifted against, his fluffy ears laying back, as if in agression.

"No... please.. please not this.." Alastor whimpered, claws digging into the silken sheets.

Sir Pentious tilted his head. A dream? Perhaps, a nightmare? But what in Hell could even make him afraid? The snake demon continued to watch, both concerned and curious. He then saw something that shocked him beyond all his years. Tears. Tears ran from Alastor's tightly closed eyes. They ran softly down his grayish brown cheeks, gleaming as they fell onto the sheets below.

In all his years, Sir Pentious had never seen a demon cry besides the pathetic princess, but she hardly counted as a demon. Ontop of that, he hardly expected to see one of the most powerful demons in Hell quivering and crying from a simple nightmare. Part of him gloated, knowing he could ruin the Radio Demon with this information and he had total control over Alastor now. However, a small voice inside him told him this was serious, and Alastor needed his help. The conflicting feelings made his stomach sick, and he forced them down with a swallow. The snake demon gazed out his window as the rain calmed to a soft whisper. What have I gotten myself into?