A better way to live {Hazbin hotel fanfiction}

Yawning, I stretched, my back popping. 
I smiled and looked down next to me, but realized Rosie wasn't there. 
In confusion, I stood and walked around the house before finding a note in the kitchen saying that she'd run to town. 
I laughed to myself and made coffee, knowing Rosie would be back sooner or later. 
But she never did. 
In a slight panic at four, I was pacing around the parlor. 
Should I go to town? 
Would she have left? 
Was she gone? 
No, no Rosie wouldn't just do that without reason. 
So where was she? 
Was she in trouble? 
In the end, I decided that maybe it would be best to just leave it, she would come back when she wanted. 
I wouldn't be like those other husbands who chased their wife's everywhere- 
NOT THAT I WAS HER HUSBAND- JUST THAT I WASN'T LIKE THAT. 
I groaned and slid into a chair. 
This was really messing me up. 
I wasn't even slightly the same, but... 
If it was for Rosie, maybe not being the exact same was okay.  
If Rosie came back. 
I slammed my head into the chair. 
Of course she'd come back! 
... 
Would she? 
Mother never came back. 
I closed my eyes and put a hand over my mouth to stop the nausia. 
My mind flashed to the image of her laying gasping in a pool of her own blood, still smiling for my sake. 
I leaned out over the floor. 
No
No
No
No 
No
No 
No 
No
This wasn't how Rosie was, Rosie wasn't my mother. 
SHE WOULDN'T BE THE SAME. 
I clamped my eyes shut and grabbed my head in my hands, trying my best not to cry and look at the bright side of things. 
If there even was a bright side. 


Two day's later, Niffty handed me the paper and a stack of mail. 
I had given up on the hope that Rosie would come back anytime soon
I realized that Richard was probably back in town and had taken her back to his home. 
The thought disgusted me, but putting those thoughts aside, I looked through everything. 
My eyes caught on a letter from the local Tailor shop. 
I tore it open. 


Dear mister Altruist, 
I have suspected that you were involved with my late sister. 
Recently, she was gruesomely murdered in her own home, I'm terribly sorry to put it blunt. 
Not enough words could describe how I feel on the matter, but I send my reguards to you and hope you will recover. 

Best wishes, 
          Mimzy Clifton

The coffee cup slid out of my hand and shattered on the floor. 
No... 
I felt like I had been stabbed. 
Suddenly, there was a hole in my chest, and... nothing could fill it. 
It was exactly like my mother. 
I don't remember crying, I don't remember being sad. 
I only remember seeing the wet dots on the paper, the twisting pain. 
This... this couldn't be it.... 
Rosie... my dove was... gone? 
This time I felt it as tears rolled down my face. 
It-it wasn't-she couldn't-
I fell to the floor, not even caring that there was broken glass. 
Niffty walked back in. "Mister Alastor? I had a questi...on?" 
She ran to me and hugged my head. "Sir?! Are you okay? Sir? Mr. Altruist?! ALASTOR!" 
I just stared down at the letter, not even answering her. 
She must have read it, because she hugged me harder. "Oh Al... I'm so sorry..." 
I was shaking now. 
It was as if the only stable thing in my life had been ripped out. 
Richard... 
It was him. 
The realization hit me, and I looked back to the letter. 
That's why she didn't come back... it was him... 
Anger boiled. 
It boiled over. 
And right there, right there on the floor sitting on broken glass, I swore I would kill that man. 
I would make him regret touching my Rosie.