WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF DEATH IN THIS CHAPTER.

Alastor woke up to the sounds of birds chirping outside his bedroom window. He sat up and stretched before he jumped down from his bed. He quickly got undressed out of his pajamas and into his play clothes before he swung his door open.

He was hit with a strong scent of copper.

It reminded him of when his mother would do laundry and she would accidently wash coins that came from his father's trousers. The smell turned his stomach because this was so much stronger. How much laundry was his mother doing?

He peeked out of his bedroom and looked down the hall. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He could see that the kitchen light was on which was even more odd. His parents were such sticklers about the electricity and making sure you turn off the light whenever you leave a room. He slowly made his way down the hall as he noticed that it was completely quiet other than the sound of his barefeet padding on the floor. He approached the entryway to the kitchen and his stomach lurched at the sight that was before him.

His mother laid on the floor, soaking in a pool of rich crimson blood. Her eyes were open and glossy, no sign of any life left in her. She was still wearing her apron from the night before and now the smears of blood had added to the jambalaya stains from dinner. Alastor fell to his knees and lost the contents of his stomach all over the kitchen tile floor. He wiped the dribble from his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled over to his mother carefully.

"Mama?" He voice shook. It sounded like it wasn't coming from his own mouth. His ears began to ring and his skin clammy. He let a finger gently carress his mother's face then pulled it away quickly. She was ice cold. She felt more like a frozen meal rather than a human being. He started to scoot away on his butt then realizing that he had been sitting in the pool of blood. His shorts were soaked through now which made his stomach flip flop again.

"Damnit. Was hoping I could clean before you woke up." Alastor jumped at the voice from behind him. Was it the burglar? Was he going to hurt him too? Where was his father? Did he suffer the same fate? All these questions zipping through his mind at a million miles an hour until a pair of hands hoisted him up to his feet from under his armpits. He turned to look at the intruder only to see that it wasn't an intruder at all.

"Sir?" Alastor looked up into his father's eyes and they were different than usual. Like the light had left his eyes too. He almost looked rabid. His father gave a hard sniff and looked behind where his son stood trembling.

"Why you shaking for, boy? You've seen dead deer before, it's nothin' different." Alastor tried to stop his knees from knocking, fearing he would be next.

"Since you're already up, you're gonna help me take care of this." He walked briskly past Alastor towards the body in the floor.

"What happened to mama?" Alastor questioned. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer actually. "It was an accident, right?"

"Wasn't no accident. Your mother disrespected me so she paid the price." He kicked her leg as if to make sure she was dead. Alastor felt bile rise up in his throat again.

"Shouldn't we call a doctor?" Alastor knew it was too late, but he couldn't easily accept the fact that she was just...gone.

"We ain't calling nobody! We're gonna take her to the woods and let the animals finish her off." His father lifted her upper body from under her armpits, much like he did Alastor. "Grab her legs and help me get her to the truck."

Alastor didn't know if it was from fear or from simple mindless moving, but he robotically walked over and tried to pick up his mothers legs. He made sure as to not slip in the already tacky blood. He wasn't strong enough to lift her legs so her feet would have to do. His father didn't say anything so it must've been good enough. Through teamwork they were able to carry her to the back of the truck. Alastor dropped her feet and his father hoisted her up into the back of his truck. It was barely dawn so no one was awake yet. No witnesses.

"I don't wanna go." Alastor could feel hot tears stream down his face. He was beyond terrified and he just wanted his mama to pop from the truck and yell 'Surprise!'. His father yanked him by his arm closer to him. He could smell the booze off of his breath.

"Now you listen here, boy. You're gonna do as I say unless you wanna join your mama." He said the last word mockingly. Alastor mustered all of his strength and bravery to stop the tears from falling and stand up straight. Now was not the time to show weakness.

"Yes sir." His voice didn't waver that time, Alastor realized. His father let go of his arm roughly. Alastor rubbed it soothingly when he felt something wet. He looked down and saw a streak of red on his upper arm where he was grabbed. He told himself it was ketchup and made his way to the front seat of the truck.

Charlie sat there, her heart completely shattered. Alastor sat beside her, not looking at her. He stared into his fireplace almost as if he wasn't with her anymore. She could see the reflection of the flames in his eyes. Anyone else would find this terrifying but given the circumstances she found it sad. Could he be making this up? No, Alastor was capable of doing terrible things but making something like this up just to get a rise out of her was not one of them.

"Are you satisfied dear, or would you like for me to continue?" Alastor asked in a deadpan tone. No radio static, sarcasm or wit. Charlie wanted nothing more than to run out of his room and be by herself a while. She couldn't go though, not after he had opened up like this to her. She asked for this and by damn she got it. She gently placed a hand on his knee which startled him back to the room. He looked from her hand to her face, his smile weakened ever so slightly but still there.

"As long as you're willing to continue." Charlie wanted to give him an out incase it was getting too much for him. She heard a chuckle rumble in his chest that was devoid of all humor.

"The past is the past. What's done is done." Charlie was about to remove her hand when Alastor cleared his throat, a fist covering his mouth.

"If your attempt at comforting me makes you feel better, by all means don't stop on my account."

Charlie could tell that in his own Alastor fashion, it was his way of asking her to keep her hand where it was. She smiled and began to rub his knee with the pad of her thumb slowly. She let him take a moment to breath and let his gaze settle back on the flames.

"So what happened next?"