Alastor's POV (from the perspective of the story)
I sighed heavily before entering the house. This job truly can be exhausting sometimes.
However, it has always been a dream of mine to broadcast...and that dream has been met.
Now I use my earnings to provide for my parents, mostly for my mother...since my father can't seem to hold a penny to his name.
Some say his addiction is a sickness.
I say his addiction is an excuse.
Shutting the door, I laid my keys onto the counter. Our small farmhouse isn't much, but as long as mother is happy, I am happy...
My brows furrowed when I realized something strange.
The house was silent.
"Mama?" I called out. She's always making dinner when I get home from work...but there isn't even a single dish in the sink.
Momentarily my broad smile fell, but I immediately restored it.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile, my beautiful son..."
Her words rang through my head like a bell. My reminder to smile...
How she smiles...
I took careful steps through the house. Something is not right.
"Mama?" I called out again, wary this time.
Rounding the corner leading to our sitting room I spotted my father. My look hardened, shaking my head at his passed out form in his chair.
"Pathetic man..." I hissed under my breath.
I approached him, and his snoring was getting on my nerves. With a swift kick to his chair, he jumped, looking around.
"Wha-huh?" He looked up and saw me, I glared back at him.
"Oh, it's just you...go grab me a beer, boy," he grumbled out, sounding completely wasted.
"I will not. Where is mother? Did she run to the store?" I asked him, and he seemed to still.
I've never seen such a look on his face before.
"Your mother..." he spoke, "I..."
It was then I noticed he has blood on his shirt, and my eyes widened. Rage set into my chest, immediately assuming he's beaten her again.
"You had better count your lucky stars, you sack of useless shit," I growled out at him. The only reason he is still breathing is because mother begs me not to hurt him.
I turned to head up to their room.
I knew that's where she'd be.
But this feels different...that look on his face...for just a moment, that drunken exterior seemed to shatter, revealing the most broken eyes I've ever seen.
My steps became quicker, my heart pounding in my chest.
When I finally had view of their bedroom door, it was slightly ajar. I stared at it for a moment.
My body finally moved, my legs taking me closer to this door. That uneasy feeling only got worse.
Gently I pushed the door open, not remembering to knock due to my current stress level.
"Mama...?" I said softly, and opened the door completely. I froze. My blood froze.
It was as if time itself had stopped in that moment. The scene before me was horrific...blood was smeared on the wall by the door, and seemed to be splattered throughout the room.
My eyes landed on the small figure on the floor, laying in a puddle of blood.
My mouth hung open in a shocked expression, but quickly I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes. I wanted to move. I wanted to go to her.
But my legs wouldn't move.
I didn't even feel the tears falling down my face, there was a loud ringing in my ears.
"Ma–mama..." I gasped out, and in that moment my legs finally moved. I stumbled over to her and fell to my knees by her side.
I grabbed her shoulder and gently rolled her over into my lap. My hand flew over my mouth and I shut my eyes.
Her face was beaten badly, and she was covered in cuts and bruises. Her lip was split and her face was swollen.
The rest of her didn't look much better.
From the looks of it...he beat her...then just left her up here to die...and...
Slowly I opened my eyes, letting them trail lower to her legs. Her underwear was around her ankles and even from beneath her dress I could see the blood on her thighs.
I thought my teeth might shatter my jaw was clenched so hard. I wrapped her up in my arms, pulling her up into my chest.
My body shook and I brushed her hair away from her face, trying to control my breathing.
This morning...
She was alive this morning...
This morning...
I was at work...
If only I'd been here...
My body curled over hers, my arms wrapped around her tightly as I rocked back and forth. Heavy cries left my throat against my will.
You must've been so scared...
"MAMA!"
I'm so sorry I wasn't there...
I don't know how long I sat with her, just crying with her in my arms. Eventually I sat her down, my hands shaking heavily as I released her.
Then my sadness turned to anger. White, hot anger.
I stood, rounding their bed and reaching under it where I know he keeps his axe.
My fingers wrapped around the smooth wood, and I pulled it out, looking over the sharp metal attached to the end.
I was wearing a deep scowl, my throat hurt and my chest felt empty.
I held the axe in one hand, and stormed back down to the living room. My father was still in his chair.
"You killed her." I seethed, and his back straightened. I couldn't see his face.
"I didn't mean to..." he spoke quietly, and I tilted my head. A smile rose to my face, and I felt like I was losing myself.
"You didn't mean to...? You...ha...you didn't...? HAHA!" I used the axe to help myself stand, the laughter rolling out of me like he'd just said something so funny.
I picked the axe up, and approached him.
He turned to look at me, and immediately his eyes landed on the axe.
They widened and he stood up, nearly falling over to get away from me.
"Alastor—! What are you doing?" He said loudly, and I just glared at him.
"You know, she was the only thing keeping me from doing this a long long time ago," I said roughly and his eyes met mine.
"Alastor, my son..." he said, his voice shaking, "I loved your mother," he said, and I froze.
Loved her...?
"No," I laughed, "no, you loved the idea of her." I growled, my voice cracking.
I had momentarily paused, pointing at him with the axe, "but when it came down to actually being a man, you failed. You failed me...you failed her!"
I failed her...
I continued approaching him, and he tripped, drunkenly stumbling and falling onto his back. I was on him no less than 5 seconds later.
"You have never loved anything in this world as much as you love your fucking whiskey!" I spat at him, and lifted the axe over my head. He stared up at me in horror.
And I loved it.
My smiled widened and tears were falling freely from my eyes. My mother...
Her smile flashed through my head, and I saw a memory of her in the kitchen.
She taught me how to cook...
She taught me everything I know...
"I LOVED MY MOTHER!" The axe came down, straight into his ugly face. He fell limp, and I tore it out, raising it again.
"You did not..." my voice was shaking, and I brought the axe down again. I just kept bringing it down onto his head.
Eventually, there wasn't really anything solid to hit anymore.
I was breathing heavily, blood staining my nice clothing and my shoes. I tossed the axe to the side, the dull thud echoing through the room.
"Fucker." I spit on his corpse, and turned to go back upstairs.
I need to bury my mother...