Radio Prince °alastorXreader °

° Trauma °

"What the fuck!?" Anthony's voice echoed through the house, making me jump. I was so used to living alone that this was definitely taking it's toll on me. I'd barely been able to sleep the past few days, constantly being woken from nightmares so I opted to not sleep at all. Gently placing a kiss on Baxter's collar, I thoughtfully placed it back in the box that contained a few photos and a small bottle of his ashes. Morbid, maybe, but I'd had him for so long that it felt wrong to just.. throw him in a hole and move on.

I closed the box and headed toward the living room where Anthony was playing some shooting game. "On your six, Trev," he said, his thumbs quickly pressing buttons and moving the analog sticks. Another slew of curses left his mouth when a player from the other team killed him again. "Hey, um.. Anthony? Is it alright if I take the car for a bit? I got a call from one of the police at the station this morning and they asked for me to go back to the apartment to talk over some things."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Keys are on the counter." He dismissed me quickly, too engrossed in his game to really care. I was sure he'd forget he told me it was fine, he could never have a conversation while playing that damn game.

The keys were cool in my hand, distracting me from the heat outside. The weather here was odd, during the day it was warm and humid but at night it was fairly cool with wind that could tear you to shreds. Putting the key in the ignition, I bit my bottom lip and wondered what was so important that the police needed me to come back to the.. crime scene. It wasn't my home anymore, I honestly didn't have any desire to go back there, but I also knew I couldn't stay with Anthony forever.

The catch is, Anthony is my ex. Our relationship was far from fairytale perfect. He cheated on me a lot, yet I stayed because I loved him. I thought that maybe if I stuck around and he saw how devoted I was to making it work, he'd stop cheating and realize that I'm "the one" for him. Young and dumb, I doubted my worth and he never changed. The only thing that changed was when he was old enough to drink and I regretfully found out how.. aggressive he was. I'll spare the details but needless to say, I spent quite a few nights in the hospital getting stitches and x-rays. As well as, well.. gruesome, I ended up losing a baby because of his bullshit. Our baby. God, I wanted a family with that piece of shit more than anything and he completely fucked me over.

I shook my head, releasing myself from my thoughts as I pulled into the duplex parking lot. Only two cars adorned the lot today, no lights, but still enough caution tape to give a mummy a run for it's money.

"Hello Miss," the same officer from the night of the break in welcomed me with a smile as I stepped out of the car. I smiled politely, closing the door behind me and shoving the keys into my jacket pocket.

"I know it's.. inconvenient of us to call you back here so soon, but we had a few questions for you," he said, turning to lead me toward the apartment complex. "You see," he continued, "the man who broke into your house, well.. he lived very close to you. We were wondering if you possibly knew him by chance?"

He led me up the stairs around the corner to the other building right beside mine. Cracking the door to apartment 3B, he gestured for me to go inside. Hesitantly, I stepped forward, a strong smell instantly overtaking my senses. My nose wrinkled before I covered it with the sleeve of my jacket, the odor almost instantly feeling sick.

"The man who lived here," the officer said, following close behind, his nose also wrinkled in disgust. "He was a killer, a cannibal." I glanced around, taking in my surroundings and my God.. it was creepy. Vintage, antique radios lined the walls, stacked almost to the ceiling in some places. Spiderwebs adorned nearly every corner of the ceiling, a very dirty and stained couch aligned with the main wall with a small table beside it, a few books wholeheartedly stacked neatly, a bookmark sticking out of each of them. Three large bookshelves were on the opposing wall from the couch, filled to the brim with books that were surprisingly not completely covered in dust or webs. The spines were cracked on almost all of them, years of wear and tear making a strong physical appearance. Caution tape was sporadically everywhere, from what I assume to keep the fingerprints fresh and untouched.