Snow Angel (Alastor x OC)

•{Chapter 10}•

Warmth

Night Hours, the name of the nightclub that Harlene had been dragged into by Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb, was bustling with energy as demons partied like nothing else mattered. Maybe it didn't; they were all dead after all. Also, although Cherri Bomb had said that she would be looking after Harlene, the spontaneous demon was preoccupied by the music and the alcohol as she danced somewhere out of sight. Therefore, Angel Dust and Harlene had been left together after deciding to sit at the bar once they got inside so that he could drink without risking spilling his selected poison. He hadn't had any drugs yet, which was good for Harlene, for she didn't think she would stay any longer if both of her friends were intoxicated as she knew she'd never be able to defend herself against another demon in the case where she was caught off guard, especially in the current state she was in.
Harlene's red-and-blue eyes were glazed over as she stared at the surface of the bar's counter. Beside her, Angel Dust had already finished half his pint of centerbe, which he had told Harlene was an Italian spirit.
The reason behind the lingering fear in her gaze was the sight of demons flirting with each other, as it chilled Harlene to the core. Some were practically 'in the act' already, and although Harlene wanted to try to have a good time with her new friends, memories clawed at the back of her brain, threatening to break free and remind her of the reason why she wasn't comfortable being touched by those she didn't trust. Harlene knew she could trust Angel Dust because of his sexuality, so she was certain he would never harm her in the way she had been back when she was alive. But Harlene was wary of the unfamiliar demons who drunkenly swayed around the club. She was afraid that if she was so much as brushed against, the entire club would be destroyed by her uncontrollable, telekinetic outbursts. Thankfully for Harlene, Angel Dust had noticed her raising anxiety and had chosen to stick by her side for the remainder of the hour that she'd planned on spending with him and Cherri Bomb.

What if I accidentally hurt someone? What if I hurt Angel or Cherri? What if I accidentally kill them all, like how I ended up killing my son? What if they-?

"Snowy?"

Trembling and reopening her eyes, Harlene swerved her head in Angel Dust's direction in surprise to find herself back in the nightclub. Her thoughts had become louder than the pounding music around her. Streams of tears were slipping down her face as she'd been crying in silence, but she wasn't alone like her mind had tricked her to believe. She couldn't risk displaying weakness or the other demons would notice and pick on her for it - or worse.

"S-Sorry, Angel," she sniffled, rubbing away her tears with her fists. "Do you need something?"

He'd finished his drink. "No, sugar. I was asking if you were okay," Angel Dust informed her.

Honestly, Harlene didn't feel like she had the strength to lie. Nevertheless, she couldn't bring herself to discuss the tightening in her chest. Then, recalling her father and his drinking habits, Harlene wondered if drinking really would help make her numb to emotions so that she would be able to talk. Casting her eyes at the bottles behind the bar, Harlene stared at them for a couple of moments, the side of her head pounding as the memories of her father's verbal abuse reemerged. In death however, Harlene had grown to forgive him, as she'd realised that he'd only been wasting his soul away so that he didn't have to relive the war he'd astonishingly managed to survive.
More tears filled her eyes at the memories and Harlene decided against it, knowing that drinking would only make everything worse. Alcohol was a depressant after all. Also, Harlene had never planned to take any type of drug in her life, and she'd continued to stay true to that decision in death. She wasn't going to go back on that now, especially when she now had powers beyond her own control to be mindful of.

Blinking away her tears, Harlene sighed, choosing to open up about a topic that was less devastating for her, "My father used to drink a lot. He was a war veteran from the Great War - but it's known as World War 1 now, isn't it?" She wiped away the tear stains on her cheeks and sniffled. "Anyway, he was forever scarred by what he saw on the frontlines, so he drank to forget. How he treated me afterwards wasn't his fault. I figure I must've been difficult, since I was too young to understand his suffering."