The RADIO DEMON and the ANGEL

Episode 4 - Prisoner Once Again

It was almost pure bliss. Haven reveled in the comfortable routine they'd established. Days were filled with artistic pursuits and laughter-filled evenings by the crackling fire. Evenings were spent curled up with Alastor, him regaling her with tales of his past, his voice a hypnotic lull against the crackling of the flames. Their haven pulsed with a warmth that chased away the shadows of her past.

Except, a single, horrifying revelation shattered the tranquility one afternoon. Alastor, ever the gifted chef, always surprised Haven with delectable meals. His culinary prowess never ceased to amaze her. Yet, on this particular day, as she peeked out the living room window, a scene unfolded that sent a jolt of terror through her veins.

Alastor stood alone amidst the trees at the edge of the property, bathed in an unsettling crimson light. Blood, a stark contrast to the verdant foliage, smeared his clothes and hands. Haven's first instinct was primal – to run to him, to ensure his safety. But as she flung open the back door, her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"Alastor!" she cried, rushing towards him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He remained motionless for a beat, then slowly turned his head towards her, a flicker of surprise crossing his crimson eyes before a practiced smile stretched across his face. "Oh, my dearest Haven," he purred, his voice laced with a nonchalance that sent shivers down her spine. "Do not fret so. I am merely acquiring our dinner for tonight!"

Haven's gaze dropped to his outstretched hands. A scream lodged itself in her throat, choked back by a hand instinctively flying to cover her mouth. It wasn't a pheasant or a rabbit he held, but a human leg. Presumably the thug that tried to mess with her and Alastor. Her horrified eyes darted downwards, landing on the mangled form sprawled on the bloodstained ground. "This is... dinner?" she whispered, her voice barely a tremor.

Alastor's grin widened, stretching unnaturally across his face. "Quite right, my love!" He boomed, his voice tinged with an unsettling glee. "This one should be enough to last us a week!" His gaze locked onto hers, searching for a reaction, a thrill perhaps, that he wouldn't dare reveal.

Haven could only manage a hollow, emotionless, "Oh. Okay." before turning and walking back towards the house in a daze. The world seemed to blur around her, her senses dulled. The haven she thought she'd found had morphed into a grotesque mockery, a gilded cage built on a foundation of horror. From that moment on, a chilling truth settled deep within her. Her life with Alastor had irrevocably altered the very fabric of her being, and the bliss she once knew had been replaced by a gnawing terror and a chilling acceptance.

The situation hung heavy in the air, an oppressive silence thicker than the metallic tang of blood that clung to her senses. A horrifying spectacle, yet a part of her mind refused to acknowledge its reality. It felt like a twisted play, a scene from a nightmare that refused to relinquish its hold. This couldn't be real. Alastor, the charming Radio Demon who filled their evenings with laughter and her days with stolen kisses, couldn't be responsible for such barbarity.

***

The flickering gaslight cast grotesque shadows on the walls of their dingy apartment. Alastor, sprawled on a threadbare sofa, winced as Haven, her brow furrowed in concentration, cleaned the jagged bullet wound on his shoulder. The smell of antiseptic and blood filled the air, a grim contrast to the enticing aroma of spaghetti sauce bubbling on the stove.

"You scared the living daylights out of me, you know that?" Haven hissed, dabbing the wound with a rag. A bead of sweat trickled down Alastor's temple, but his usual grin remained stubbornly in place.

"Mere inconvenience, my love," he rasped, the static crackling around him a touch more erratic than usual. "The fellow was a nuisance, and he threatened your life so I ended him with persuasion."