More than anything (Alastor X Reader)

Epilogue

You could feel nothing besides the wind blowing through your hair as your body fell. Your clothes fluttered and tickled the skin that lay underneath. You didn't know where you would land. You didn't know what had happened. As you tried to recollect the events that had occurred prior, your body started to change. Your once a/c skin became pale - almost grey in tone. You could see your hair grow as it danced above you. Your once small hands became thin, the ends of your fingers growing into claws. It didn't hurt, but the startling sight sent a chill down your spine. Before you could even process the events occurring, your thoughts were interrupted by the rough asphalt hitting your back. It didn't make any sense. You fell for what felt like minutes yet landed on the street as if you tripped off the curb. 

You reluctantly stood facing the reality of where you were. The pentagram in the sky and the denizens around you were nothing less than obvious. This was Hell. You have died and this was your punishment. A cold world filled with horrors beyond your imagination. A cold shiver fell through your body as a look through the street was grim. The street was littered with disemboweled beings, burning cars, and screams. Oh, the screams. They shrieked as if it was the only thing they knew how to do. 

The buildings around you were mostly unmarked aside from the few clubs and bars. Without any knowledge of this new life, you decided to walk. An observer in life must be useful in this situation. Listen to the conversations as you walk past others on the streets, read the signs littered about, look through the windows of the buildings, and find a path forward. 

After hours of walking, you realized that there was nowhere left to look. Your steps brought you to the edge of a forest. Miles of dead trees, dried leaves, and that familiar musk of rotting. You saw a small stand-alone bar on the other side of the street. You walked in and saw a few people sitting in booths, no words were ever spoken. Just tinks of glasses and the faint sound of a radio playing in the corner. Before you could approach the bar, a man approached you with a toothy grin. 

"I haven't seen you around before, are you new here?" He asked with a starch tone. 

"Oh, um yeah. I just got here. I don't really know how I'm supposed to find work or anything so I figured I'd just ask someone." You were unsure of speaking to this stranger about this, but his charm began to set you at ease. 

"Well, my name is Shawn, and I own this bar. We are hiring if you'd like a job. And I have a spare room upstairs. It's all yours, as long as you can make a good old fashioned" He joked. 

Your fear began to subside. This man gave you everything you needed. A home, a job, and hopefully something to eat. 

---------------------------------------------------A few months later---------------------------------------------------

You ran as fast as you could. You knew that he would be following closely behind you but you didn't bother wasting any time to look back. The bruises around your ankles shot pain through your entire body as you hit the pavement. Shackles are still attached to your wrists. The dirty towel tied behind your head held your mouth agape. There was no time to remove it. Just run. 

All you could do at this moment was run. After what felt like hours, your body forced you to stop. The swelling in your ankles became too much to bear. You finally turned to see an empty street behind you. He was gone. Your tormentor was gone. You finally escaped that wretched shit hole and you were free. You finally removed the rag from your mouth. As if some divine being saw your struggle, the T.V. on the storefront played a commercial for a hotel. A hotel that sought to redeem souls. The idea seemed ridiculous to you. Sinners earned damnation and nothing could change that. The commercial continued, the last frame read, "Free rooms for wayward souls".