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To some, marriage is a beautiful ceremony in which two people swear themselves to one another for as long as they live. A ceremony that’s done in front of family, friends, and God. It was a chance to spend the rest of your life with that special loved one. An eternal partner. An eternal romance. Alastor had no such thought process however. It held no appeal to him whatsoever. To him, marriage was just another set of chains, binding him to someone he didn't even truly love. A nuisance. Someone to bother him every day and night, or worse someone who may jeopardize his peculiar hobbies.
Alastor never had the intention of allowing a partner to come in and ruin the steady career and reputation he'd built for himself. The thought of someone being able to wreck the entertainment he’d meticulously built for himself. The thought itself was reprehensible. At best he’d be put to death, at worst he’d rot in a cell for the rest of his life. His itch was far too strong for that.
The man absolutely reveled in the fear he instilled within his victims. The endless terror in their eyes even after the light left them. The color draining from their skin as they realize their cruel fate, the blood that flowed from their wounds that adorned his hands, painting them a lovely crimson color. It painted a beautiful picture of their pain and suffering in their final moments, a masterpiece nobody but him had the privilege of seeing. To him, it was art. It was a form of art he couldn’t help but admire. Each gasp, each scream, each plea for help was nothing but music to his ears. It was pure bliss.
Although a morbid sort of beauty, he quite liked it. It was the rush, the adrenaline that drew him in, it was that feeling that made him itch and crave it every single day. It was a twitch in his fingers, it was a shiver down his spine, it’s the only thing that got him out of bed in the morning. It was intoxicating. It was an addicting thrill that he craved more than anything else in the world. More than riches. More than a life of luxuries. More than love. Instead of all of that, he had the best thing in the world. Power. The raw power and control he felt as he stood over his helpless victims, pleading to him as if he were their god. A merciless god, unfortunately for them. The human race was his to pass judgment on, and that he did.
So, having a partner was unthinkable, it was utterly laughable. He couldn’t fathom anyone, especially you, his supposed spouse, understanding why he did the things he does, nor his strange taste for human flesh. The mere thought of someone uncovering his secret, uncovering his nighttime activities, the thought of waking up with the police banging on his door and his name making news headlines – beloved radio host a horrifying serial killer – the thought of all of that crumbling all because of one singular incompetent person, it’s the only thing that filled him with true dread. The idea irritated him to know end. How dare you, or anyone
else, with your innocence and naivety, come so perilously close to unraveling everything he’s worked for? Ruining all of his joyous fun and source of entertainment in one fell swoop? That wondrous chaotic fun and the passions of his dark desires, threatened by the likes of you?
Hah! The thought was laughable!
It was a risk he was not willing to take. But, what choice did he have when your parents were held in such a high social status and power that far succeeded his own? He didn’t come from a wealthy upbringing where everything was handed to him, unlike you. He had to grow up fighting tooth and nail just to get even a quarter to where he was today, and he worked hard for it. Meanwhile, you’ve had a silver spoon shoved into your rotten mouth the day you were born.
The dreadful decision was finalized in his mind when his darling mother heard. When the news rang upon her ears, she was enthused greatly. She’d longed for her only child to finally settle down with someone he loved. She had long since encouraged him to find someone for himself, but he avoided the endeavor for numerous reasons. The concept of love was so silly to him. A waste of time. Such emotions had remained foreign to him. Intimacy, a large valley filled with emotions and sensations that brought nothing other than utter disgust and repulsion to him. A plane of land he planned on keeping unknown to him. Yet, he found himself unable to contest his mother’s joyous wishes. Who was he to disappoint her of all people? Despite the discomfort it gave him, along with his profound disdain for you. Your mere presence brought her joy, a statement of happiness he didn’t have the heart to diminish, even at the cost of protecting his peace.
Being in an arranged marriage with you was nothing short of irritating. It served only as an inconvenience. You were constantly seeking out his attention, always making demands of him, you seemed almost relentless. No matter how desperately he tried to push you away, you clung onto him as if your life depended on it. Depended on him. It’d be laughable if it weren’t so frustrating. Though, when he had to, he’d act as if he were part of a functioning marriage in public. He’d play the part of the husband who loved you unconditionally, and you’d play your part as the doting spouse who’d go great lengths for your husband. In reality, he couldn’t care less about you or your feelings. Yet somehow, your gaze had begun to stir an odd feeling in his chest. It was new. It was uncomfortable. It was sickening.
It was discomforting. It led to him seeking refuge in his office, burying himself in work and paperwork that had been building up thanks to you.. He needed to be away from you and the unsettling feeling you stirred within him. He didn’t want to call the foreign feeling… “Love”, it was far too strong a word. He didn't feel that strongly about you. Not in a positive way.
Despite his cold demeanor, he couldn’t understand why you remained so kind to him, he didn’t go out of his way to treat you kindly. It deeply unsettled him. He was half expecting you to crack one day. It was something Alastor would have found great amusement in, having such raw unfiltered emotion laid in front of him like that? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to it. Though it never happened. Yet, not a single word of complaint. Only irritating inquiries about how his day went, what he did, and people he interacted with that day. It wasn’t much of an issue, he actually grew to enjoy the routine for months.
The issues began to rise once you began to inquire about his nighttime activities.
"Curiosity killed the cat," the saying goes. Apparently, you had never heard it. Such a pity. No, more than a pity—it was outright foolish. He could never fathom what was running through your naive, distant mind that night. Yet, he had always known that your insatiable curiosity would one day be your undoing. And so, it was.
That night, he was careless. Complacency had crept into his routine hunts, leading him to lower his guard. He should have remained vigilant, especially given your habit of wandering and returning at odd hours. As he carried a body down to the cellar for his gruesome rituals, you stumbled onto the scene, a scenario he had never anticipated despite months of keeping you blissfully ignorant. Alastor watched as you froze, both of you locked in a moment of stunned silence, wondering if you would flee or stay rooted to the spot.
Unfortunately, you made your choice.
You practically bolted away, but there was no way he was going to let you go so easily, not at all. You were bound to him until death did you part, were you not?
He had thought of many excuses if he ever had to dispose of you. Perhaps you had wandered too far off of the property and was mauled by a wild beast? Or perhaps his clumsy naive spouse had ventured too far off near the water, only to be greeted by a hungry alligator. He always knew living away from civilization would benefit him someday. Alastor knew that once you passed, he’d finally be able to know how sweet you taste. It was something he thought about many nights while watching you sleep. Wondering what kind of texture you’d have, what kind of taste you’d leave on his tongue. Would he throw you out immediately? Or would you leave him wanting more? So much to discover, yet so little time.
The chase began the moment you stepped off the property. And boy, you gave him a run for his money. It felt like an actual life or death chase for a change. He almost felt like he wouldn't catch you. But while you got far, he knew the woods better than you did. He caught up to you in no time, the both of you tumbling to the ground as he seized you. His victims always put up quite the fight, but in the end, he always won. Now he had you in his grasp, able to do whatever it was he wanted to do with you– his prey.
With his knife at your neck, he could see the raw terror in your eyes, and he reveled in it. His breath was labored, his hair disheveled, few strands falling across his forehead. His voice oozed with condescension and utter contempt for you, “What shall I do with you now, my dear? Surely you know I cannot let you free now after what you've seen, don't you agree?” Alastor asked, donning a sadistic grin. It wasn't the typical polite yet empty smile he'd greet you with. For the first time talking to you in months, there was a gleam in his eyes. Something that signaled his interest. “I suppose I’ll slit your throat and take pleasure in the sight of your blood staining the floor of the woods, staining the fabric of my clothes, hm?” He put more pressure on the blade against your neck, inciting a plea from you, much to his amusement.
You had always dreamt of marriage, you and the one you love most devoting yourselves to one another. You never thought you’d see the day you had to stare a cold-blooded killer in the eyes. You certainly never thought those same eyes would belong to your husband.
“P-Please, Alastor” You began, “I’ll do anything! Please… Please don’t kill me… We-We can pretend as if this never happened! We can go home, and wake up tomorrow as though it were nothing but a dream! I won’t run, I won’t scream, I won’t tell anyone, I promise you!” You pleaded, exhausted. Your breathing labored and your nightgown dirtied. Despite your desperate pleas, you put up no fight against the man wielding the blade.
You sniffled, hoping to somehow get through to the man you shared a home with, “Please! I love you so, so much! Please…”
Confused, Alastor grimaced at your words, before letting out a humorless chuckle, one that was just the brittle sound of amusement. Your words rang upon deaf ears, and only seemed to fuel the darkness that burned fiercely in his soul, and even more at those words. What were you on about? You loved him? You could find a sense of warmth in a monster who reveled in death, blood, and mayhem?
No, it was impossible. It was foolish. He snorted at your silly delusions. “You truly are utterly naive, my dear. It is not me you fell in love with. I suppose you could say you’ve been… Misled. I do make a convincing advertisement for happiness, I’ll admit that. But, it’s nothing more than that. And right now, that facade is breaking before your very eyes. It’s cracked, and you’ve seen the truth.” He slid the tip of the knife back and forth against your neck, ever so lightly applying pressure, teasing you, the blunt edge not inflicting any harm at all. It’s merely there to torment you. To remind you of what’s to come at any time he wants.
Tilting your head up with a gentle, yet firm, touch he locked eyes with you once again. His dark eyes pierced into yours, unnervingly steady. The silence was palpable, devoid of all sound within the woods, everything was still. Devoid of all sound except for the rhythmic sound of your heartbeat. It thundered loudly in your ears, yet your sobs sounded so distant. Then, as if the devil himself whispered his words of temptation in your ear, Alastor spoke with unsettling casualness.
“I’ve heard love is delicious, and you my dear, will be my most succulent meal I’ve yet to lay eyes on. A feast of the flesh, one that I could only narrowly avoid for so long, one I could hardly ever resist despite my best efforts.” Alastor spoke, his malevolent tone was so biting. Your fate was undeniably sealed, and you knew that. His free hand brushed through your hair, tugging the strands possessively. His heart beat at a furious pace as he stared you down, savoring the final appearance of his meal. He pressed the tip of his knife against your throat, threatening to release the crimson torrent at any moment.
“Any last words, dear?”
You were at his complete mercy, and that terrified you. But, despite your sobbing, and despite your cries, you still found that the air around him and the calculated words that fell from his silver tongue were so intoxicatingly bittersweet.
Despite it all, you loved him all the same.
“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever told me…”
Despite your fear, you let out a bitter chuckle. You were sitting in the woods, with you man you’ve looked at every single day for months, seconds away from slitting your throat open and leaving you there to rot. Yet, under the pale moonlight that shined down onto him, illuminating his bloody clothes and gloves, yet you still smiled at him.
“I… I think you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever had the privilege of laying my eyes on… Even now.”
Alastor’s smile faltered and instead turned into a disgusted sneer at your words, the knife’s edge sitting and pressing against your skin. The melancholy in his eyes intensified, a reflection of the inner war that raged inside of the man and the monster he’d become. Almost as if sensing his own vulnerability, he inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on your hair,
“I despise you. I completely and utterly detest you.” His voice became orotund, but also the slightest bit wobbly. He inhaled sharply through his nose, as if trying to summon up a resolve that still eluded him. There was a tantalizing thrill that came with killing somebody. It made him excited. He looked forward to it every single time. But this act was different. It felt different. This was the person who was supposed to spend and devote the rest of his life to. This person was one he was supposed to love above all others. The person he promised to love in sickness and in health. Yet, here he was getting ready to take the life he swore to love and protect.
His hardened expression fell, completely crumbling beneath the crushing weight of his inner turmoil. But he didn’t lower his weapon, instead he pressed the blade harder into your neck, the first droplets of blood seeping through your neck.
The two of you stayed like that for a moment, that is, until he smiled at you and began talking, his voice sweet and honeyed.. It wasn’t his smile though, and it wasn’t his voice. It was the voice and the smile he put on for his radio shows. It was false, just like every other thing about him. So carefully crafted to make sure he blended in with normal society. To make himself seem normal. It was a facade, and you both knew it. But, like all of his other acts, he was flawless at playing the role he had given himself, the role he had been playing for years. He was impeccable, just like every other facade.
“You know I find that to be one of the sweetest of compliments? Being told I’m beautiful when I’m just about to do something horrid. It seems as though I still have a bit of charm left in me after all.” He muttered, his voice laced with bitterness and subtle anger that thickened the air and clung to the both of you.
The ecstatic praises from his mother faded further and further as he finalized the decision in his head. With a decisive flick of his wrist, the knife smoothly slid through layers of flesh, in an oddly elegant motion. The sound of the blade tearing through your skin sent a satisfying shiver down his spine. A chill that never failed to stir something within him.
Taking a deep breath, Alastor looked up at the starry sky, a genuine grin stretching from ear to ear.
For the first time since marrying you, he felt so, so happy.