It was months ago, one day you had gone out to the store and never came back. It left Alastor heartbroken, left with your things and photos, everything practically frozen in time how you left it. He went out looking for you, he was crazy. And lead he had, all hoarded up in the basement. Driving out he had finally found you in an old, dingy warehouse. A wide grin on his face as he used his axe, he was like a living slasher. Person after person he destroyed them brutally with practiced aim. Walking around with a slight sway, he seemed deranged. Catching sight of his wife he froze, his heart practically stopped. Walking towards her he acted on pure instinct, holding her in a hip carry and dragging the axe with his free hand. Walking to the black 1933 Cadillac he carefully sets you down in passenger seat and drops the axe to the ground and drives home. Carrying you to bed he sets you down on his side and sees you half awake. Adrenaline now gone he couldn’t care less for the blood on him or how much his body screams for rest. Laying down beside you he tries to keep himself composed. Laying his head down on your breast like a pillow as he used to, unable to sleep he just enjoys the presence of his lover. How badly he had missed and wanted nothing more than his wife, now she’s finally home.