What Would Make Alastor Cry?

Her Death

There's a part in here where Alastor speaks rapid French. I used Google so it may be wrong.

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"Come on Abigail, it's a short cut." I pointed to and alley that cut through two buildings and led out to near our house. There was trash scattered throughout the whole alley, and dark patches of shadow here and there.

"Alastor, are you sure this is a good idea? What if some wacko is hiding in there?" Abigail clutched my hand tightly. We had been with our friends all day and had started heading home when darkness started settling.

"Don't worry, I won't let any wackos get you." I flashed a smile, knowing that she would feel better if I did.

"Okay, let's take the short cut." Making sure her hand was in mine, I lead is through the dark alleyway. It was eerily quiet, but I didn't think much of it.

"Alastor, this place is scary." Abigail stood right behind me, peering over my shoulder in search for anything dangerous. I chuckled at how my sister trembled.

"Abigail, we're fine. No one else is-" the sound of a gun cut me off. A searing pain flared up in my left calf as a bullet ripped through it. I feel to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Alastor!" Abigail kneeled down and tore of part of the hem of her dress. Before she could tie it around my arm, a white man stepped out of the shadows, brandishing a rather deadly looking pistol.

"Run!" I screamed, trying to get up to shield Abigail, but spikes of pain shot up my leg and sent me crumpling to the ground. The man made no haste towards my sister, he just walked slowly to where she was.

Abigail looked down at me. She was completely frozen from fear. I could only stare back, knowing I had failed her. Neither of us saw the man lower his pistol.

"Alastor?" That was all Abigail could say before the bullet pierced her stomach.

"Abigail!" The raw horror in my voice was enough to make even the shooter flinch. I quickly managed to swing my good leg at the shooter's, sending him tumbling to the ground. After hearing an awful crack, and seeing how he struggled to get up, my guess was that I'd concussed him.

"Hold on, Abigail." I quickly crawled to my sister and put her into my lap, hugging her close to my chest. Her breathing was shallow, and blood was seeping through the midsection of her dress, but she was still alive.

"I-I'm...c-cold..." Abigail's voice was hardly a whisper. I could see her struggling to stay with me. I tried to fight off the tears threatening my eyes, I couldn't let her see me cry right now.

"It's going to be okay, Abby." I used my teeth to tear a large part of my sleeve off, and held it firmly against the bullet wound. The sight of so much blood made me sick.

As I watched my sister slowly die, I began remembering the moments I had shared with her.

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"Alastor, why do you want to be a radio host?"

"Well my dear sister, radio host get to go to all sorts of places, and get to meet a lot of interesting people."

"Do radio host get to go outside America?"

"Well, I suppose some do. Why do you ask?"

"Well...um...I've always wanted to see Paris, and I thought..."

"That I could take you there?"

"...yes. Would you?"

"Haha! My sweet Abigail, I promise that one day I shall take you to Paris, and we'll gaze upon the world from the very top of the Eiffel Tower!"