Chapter Text
WAYLON
"Fuck..." I groaned, reaching for the back of my head after falling from the window I sneaked up on upon trespassing the burned down asylum.
The basement which I assume where I ended was dark at a point where placing my hand to my face is the only way I can make the silhouette of everything.
Looking up, the gaping hole of the higher floor that has buffered my fatal fall stared back.
"Shit!" I sat up immediately, my vision slightly adjusted but still dark to fully see. It was four in the morning when I trespassed the property and now, it turns out that the sky that he peeped from the fallen roofing of the floor above isn't changing color because it's sunrise, but because it's already sundown and I had passed out for almost a day from the fall.
My hands wandered in the dark floor near me, rolling my upper body to search for my stuff that has been kept in my shoulder bag, assuming that they came along me as I plummeted to this basement.
"Yes, please work...please work...please work..." I begged between chilly breath when I grasped something familiar, rectangular and dusted, it's my phone. I long pressed the power button hoping to myself that it will power back on which it did though it's not something to celebrate as the phone screen were messes into colorful abstract that has been painted by the cracked screen.
Not giving time or space for frustration, I used the screen light to search for my bag. Stretching my arm out, I spotted the khaki shoulder bag that used to be my school bag before dropping out of college. It's placed under wooden beams that used to support the wooden flooring of the facility.
The excitement got into me very much that I immediately sprung up to my feet to make my way unto it but then.
'Crack!' There's a sharp pain and sore on my right ankle, I redirected my phone light only to discover my right foot is facing the other way and I applied pressure on it making the pain travel the second on me.
"AGHHH!!!" I fell face first.
"No, no, no, no, not now please..." I used to light it with my screen but when I saw it the second time it was gnarly, I retched but there was no vomit that came out. The feet looks too much I didn't realized that I started to cry from pain and the situation. I gave few puffs of breathing, mentally gathering the courage once the pain started to subside to crawl and drag the bad foot as I pulled the strap of my bag.
The things inside was the following items:
-Camera with night vision
- Flashlight and extra batteries
-Pocket knife
-Bottled water
-Snack bars
-Powerbank
-Charger
I quickly opened the bottled water to quench my overlooked thirst now in the bright white lumina of the flashlight which has to be conserved as there were only two extra batteries.
"What would I do, what would I do..." I chanted over and over. "First, I have to splint my foot, then oh gods...I have to crawl up back up until the main do-" I froze and then started to feel the frustration build in me as I realized I had entered through a window at the third floor after climbing on the roof as the main exit was chained top to bottom. I have survived four levels of fall just because the impact were divided by slamming on each fragile floor.
Waylon rolled up his shirt up to his mouth as he proceeds to deal with his first problem, the badly twisted feet.
"One..Two... C'mon Waylon, twist it back front it'll be easy...just like in boy scout."
He recounted again, "One...Two...' CRACK!
"AAHHHH MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Waylon collapsed on his back but at least he managed to turn the feet to face forward again, though it's swollen and sore still. Gasping and trembling, he started to doze off.
Amidst his disorientated phasing in and out of consciousness, Waylon felt himself be lifted from the ground. He's being swung over someone's shoulder, someone tall.
"Richard, get him fixed." The calm with eerily cheery undertone of a man's voice orders and then Waylon surrendered into the silence and passed out for the second time.
Chapter Text
Waylon gasped awake but he's being held down, it wasn't by someone but by the straps on the bed he laid.
His adjusting eyes scanned the room, it was dark and just a barely lighting lamp on the bedside, it was so dim that the greenish light only managed to light the table top and the floor anything else beyond its circle of illumination was obstructed.
“Hello?” Waylon called out, his voice barely came out in a smooth manner.
A silhouette came inside the door, just a man that seemed old.
“Finally you're awake.” The man's voice spoke.
“Where the fuck am I? And why am I restrained?” He demanded, giving a tug on his leather restraints which toppled the bedside lamp.
“You’re in Mount Massive-” The other man tried to explain but was cut off. The toppled lamp has rolled and stopped at an angle and shone its light on the man who's speaking.
Waylon jumped in fear and pressed himself on the hospital bed when the man who's speaking was revealed. It was lean and tall, with severe deformities, there was a lack of hair and his whole body looked like a walking muscle anatomy chart but in the most unsettling manner.
“What the fuck! What are you?!...” He shrieked trying to pull from his bindings.
“I am Doctor Richard Trager.” The walking corpse like man said but he said no more when his eyes or what's left of them shifted to look beyond Waylon's bed, at a corner, cloaked in the dark.
“Is that a way to speak to your Doctor, boy?” A deeper voice said, it was a charismatic tone almost wooing Waylon like a child in tantrums.
“Richard, leave us, I'll do the explaining.” The man in the dark adds.
“Done having your fit?” He gave a chuckle.
“I…I..was just scared.” Waylon turned his head trying to see beyond the veil of shadows.
“Dr. Trager has been through an accident years ago, and well it left him disfigured. But he's still an exceptional man, you see, he fixed that leg of yours.” The man stood up from the nearby seat.
“Where am I?” Waylon repeated his previous query, still shivering from his panic.
“Mount Massive, darling” the sound of his paving shoes ticked on the tile floor.
“I..I don't know where's this…” Waylon replied half relaxed but guards up, he heard that name before though, just somewhere but it wasn't something he has heard often that he can recall with ease.
“Then why were you at the Vocational room basement if that's the case, dear?” The man kicked off the lamp to roll away from lighting him.
“I…I fell from an abandoned asylum…that's all I could remember. I'm sorry if I've trespassed." If only he's free from his bind, Waylon would have obviously been clutching his temple from the pain as he tried his best to recount the events.
“Your name?” The other man asked.
“Waylon…Waylon Park.” He swallowed to repeat his name loud and clear.
“Well you seem to be confused, you were found in the basement, injuries the same as that of a violent fall. That's true but the question is…where could you have fallen?”
“I fell past the weakened floors when I snuck in through the window.”
The man's deep laugh echoes. “The floors sure.”
“What's funny you freak?” Waylon was annoyed.
“Dear, the floor was too intact for someone your weight to be collapsing, it's wooden but it's reinforced well.” The silhouette of the man stared at the door, there was Trager at the door way but he's obscured from the darkness too.
“Ed, we have to evacuate him.” Trager spat.
“Fine. Call in the big guy.” The man whose name was ‘Ed’ just ordered.
“Wait…wait…wait…why?!” Waylon started to panic again before a large shadow of a man entered the room and easily undid his binds and slumped him over his shoulder, his bare skin felt sticky and smelt like an infected wound. Waylon tried to resist but the big man only tightened his hold along with grunts that were animalistic and frightful.
WAYLON
The odor of the man carrying me was ungodly, I still think I was just rushed from a hospital with bad hygiene protocols, after all, the abandoned asylum was located in a mountain and there were barely any establishments at the foot of the mountain.
The two men, Richard and Ed, tailed behind us. The corridor that we're walking through was pitch black it's a surprise these three navigated well in the dark.
I looked back the next second and I sensed a glint of a well lit area, a corridor with better lighting, closing my eyes in preparation of the blinding lights that we're approaching.
When I opened my eyes, everything in me dropped. It turns out Trager was skinned face until legs and Ed was as disfigured of a man who's as tall as the man carrying me. My scream caught up in my throat when I looked at the man who's holding me up, he's full of sores and red patches like raw meat, not to mention the scattered, dismembered people on the hospital tile floor.
Screaming, I shook my whole body as the big guy dropped me. I landed on my front and knees reawakening the pain in my splinted leg.
“You dropped him you idiot?” The man in suit, looking like a groom slapped the walking pile of meat at the back of his head.
“NO! LET ME THE FUCK GO, BASTARD!” I flailed around when the big guy once again tried to pick me up.
I pushed myself forward crawling on fours while blood and butchered corpses and organs and whatever guts that littered everywhere, I looked at an intestine that was on the floor…it's still full of shit leaking…it made bile rose up my throat that I ended up vomiting on myself when the smell and sight and everything flooded my senses and was unable to be processed in my mind. My head collapsed on my arms, sobbing loudly.
I heard the big guy approaching so I laid myself flat on the floor as if it's going to stop him, his dead white eyes and lack of lips and nose burying fear in me like a maggot.
“Please don't hurt me…I won't say anything.” I bargained thinking I entered a cartel den or crime group hideout. I had to get away from him so I tried to slide myself forward, as I dug my nails on the tile when the grip held at my broken leg.
I gave out a loud scream when he gripped my broken leg and the splint started to sandwich it beyond comfortable and he dragged me back. He pinned me face first on a disgusting pile of human meat and intestines before pulling back my hair and turning me around, then I finally saw him up close, the man…the groom perhaps, while my arms were held still by the behemoth man.
“If I were you…” He started and looked at me, his red eyes made me whimper, his blue pupils piercing deep into me. “I'd shut the fuck up…unless…” The man looked back to Trager and gave a nod and the doctor approached.
“Don’t touch me—fuck off!” I spit, voice cracking. “I swear to God I’ll gut you when I get free—” The giant yanked my leg again, and the scream ripped out of me before I could finish.
“Hold his jaw.” Trager ordered the man holding me as the groom stepped back to watch.
“NO GET OFF ME! You don't have to do this, please…” My begging turned to incomprehensible sounds as my jaws were gripped from behind and was forced open.
‘NOOOOO’ I screamed when Trager’s fingers gripped my tongue and pulled it forward and suddenly a pair of scissors on his other hand. “Please…” I tried to say, biting, head butting but it's all gibberish and I'm weaker in against the two, looking for anyone to stop this, and I looked at the groom.
My teary eyes cried relentlessly as I was looking helplessly at the groom who had his arms crossed and leaned on a wall.
“Actually…Richard, I prefer my toy fully functional.” He spoke and Trager let my tongue go and I spat out his taste.
“You…You're Ed r-right?” My sentences got cut by hiccups.
“Eddie Gluskin.” He kneeled close and grabbed my chin with gloved hands but the tips of it were cut off.
"Please, don't let them hurt me, man. I'll do whatever it takes..." I said breathlessly.
"Even if I make you my pet?" He tilted his head to the side on the part where the damage was more prominent and the eye that's more bloodshot.
"But...I..I have to go home...I have friends...uhhh... families, please sir anything but that." I sobbed down, holding on his shoes.
"Then I have no obligation protecting you at all." He just coldly pried off my hands and stood back up. "Boys..." Eddie added, "Do what you want with him."
I heard the giant man and Trager laugh and the next second, I felt the hands of the big guy trying to pull down my pants while Trager kicked on my face.
“Okay, okay—Eddie. Eddie.” I turned my head toward him, half-crying, half-growling. “I’ll do what you want. Just don’t let them touch me. Just you. Only you. You want a deal? You got it. I’m yours. Just… call them off." I spat trying to hide the new wave of sobbing and rage.
"Then we have a deal." Eddie smiled eerily and his scarred face rolled like rubber skin.
Chapter Text
Waylon woke up in a hospital bed, he doesn't even remember when or how he passed out but now, he felt somewhat calmed down. The room he is in is bright and the room was empty.
He raised his head and sat up, dragging his injured foot that feels heavier than the splint.
The sheets were raised, and he took the time to observe, yes his right leg was in a cast—probably got hold of a better area of the place with medical supplies and second, his whole body was cold when the blanket slid off, he was naked.
Waylon pulled up the falling sheet that hung on the edge of the old hospital bed he's in, then he used the blanket to cover himself and look down for a while to try and let things sink in.
‘Where could I possibly be?” He asked himself and pondered, he tried to conjure a map in his mind trying to look for possible abandoned but barely functional hospitals where crime syndicates take people hostage.
‘Oh no.’ he panicked in his head, ‘Was this an organ harvesting ring?!’ His heartbeat picked up and his breathing felt rough and rigid on his airways.
“You're awake.” Eddie said just leaned on the doorway.
Waylon looked under the blanket for raw and newly made stitches just to make sure his organs were still with him and he found no wound, just the cast on his lower leg.
“Where are my clothes?” he asked, voice calm, low, almost polite—carefully sculpted not to trigger the thing in front of him. If you could even call it a man.
Beneath the feigned civility, something in Waylon snapped.
Not loud. Not visible. But primal.
Like a wolf forced to lie belly-up in the dirt, fangs clenched behind closed lips.
He could almost see himself lunging, cracking the bastard’s teeth against the tile. Tearing at that smug, ruined face. Biting if he had to.
But none of that happened.
His body was weight. His limbs refused. The fight burned only in his chest—trapped—a wild, starving thing pacing behind his ribs.
So he sat still. Masked his fury behind a brittle smile.
And waited.
“Richard took your pants off and your shirt is full of internal organ fluids, it's not sanitary.” He then motioned his newly made cast.
“May I at least wear something, please?” he asked, the words coated in sugar—gentle, submissive, the kind of tone you use when cornered by a beast that might snap if you breathe wrong.
Then silence.Eddie didn’t respond right away. Just stood there, back turned.
Waylon’s throat tightened.
Shit. Shit. Did I sound too assertive? Did I push it? Fuck—He recoiled, spine hitting the cold, rusted rail of the bedframe like a caged animal retreating to instinct. Every nerve braced for punishment.
But nothing came. Instead, the groan of rusted wheels.
Eddie pushed a wheelchair into the room, humming softly like a groom prepping for a ceremony.Waylon forced himself to breathe. The panic melted, but not his hatred.
It simmered under his skin, unspoken.
All he has to do is to play nice, smile, obey. Just until he's strong enough to strike, just until his hands could do something.
“Wrap that blanket for a while, the laundry room was on the other end of the hall.” The creaking of old metal came close as Eddie pushed it near Waylon's bed.
“May I?” the disfigured man asked.
“What?” Waylon asked, unsure of what Eddie was asking.
Eddie just sighed before he picked up Waylon bridal style, the smaller man hugged the sheet close to his chest and sat down on the wheelchair.
“Shall we?” The taller man led the way.
“So is this place…for criminals?” Waylon started as the hall they're in was full of blood but the bodies that usually piled up in the corners are gone. He played with his thoughts just to get something, anything.
“This is a mental institution, dear—more like it used to be…now it's my domain.” Eddie kept his face looking ahead, the man on the wheelchair looked up at him, his jaw, he could tell that without that disfigured mask, he still had the features of what people consider attractive.
“I-is this a cartel den? Or-or..some organ harvesting farm?” He hugged the sheet close to his chest from the thought. 'Damn it, now I get to be a part of something after all, I never thought it would be a fucking black market.' He monologues.
“No, no it's not.” Eddie looked down to assure him, he grinned and Waylon felt small, “We're here…” Eddie just announced pushing the door open.
The dryer and washing machines were covered in dust and were on top of each other, the hampers at the corners were soaked in blood, they smelled like decay and flies and maggots could be heard squelching on pieces of flesh that came along those clothes, Waylon pulled the sheet to cover his nose.
“Well…” The tall man just looked back at Waylon, disappointed. “The clothes here are soiled.” He pulled out a scrub suit pants and an arm fell from it.
“Shit.” Waylon leaned back, slightly moving the wheelchair.
“Don't be mad, darling. I know just where to get some pairs of clothes.”He resumed his grasp on the wheelchair handle and pushed the two of them out the laundry room.
“Dang it.” Eddie exclaimed as the way to the room he wanted to go had the ceilings collapse on the hallway.
“Mind if I do.” He said in his unusual jolly tone and carried Waylon—who didn't resist him out of fear, he's being bride style carried by the man and his white, with blood red hem, blanket looked like a wedding dress who absorbed blood sacrifice.
WAYLON
The tall man had to crouch a little as the fallen pillars had “X’ed” upon the hallway.
“You alright love?” He asked when he noticed me staring at him. I reversed my sight and didn't give him a reply.
Then his hand started to pry my hand from the sheets I kept on my chest.
“You'll fall if you don't hold on tight.” He just commented as he repositioned my hands to wrap them on the back of his neck. Dam it, I could almost feel myself strangling him, but luckily, I had an ounce of self control in my arsenal.
“Here we are…The tailoring room.” Eddie sat me down on a stool in a room full of mannequins.
“Here, try this on.” He excitedly ran back to me holding something behind his back.
“Ta da!” He said cheerfully—it was a skirt.
“A..skirt?” I asked warily. This has to be a fucking joke, are there anything in this place that I can wear that's not nested by maggots or something that doesn't make me look like a hippie.
“Perfect for your size, come on, have a try on. Vintage too.” As if I had any options to choose I let him rip off the sheet of me not caring if he saw my cock, flaccid in the cool air.
He knelt down and he navigated his way up to my thighs then he stood to make me hold him by the nape so he can pull them up to my waist.
“Perfect.” His hands remained on my waist as he fixed the skirt over my lower body, he sometimes swiped the fabric on my hand so it would hug the curve of my butt, then he sat me back down and took an old sweater from a mannequin and had me wear it. The lingering feeling of his touch made a wave of goosebumps on me: fear and disgust is what fueled it all.
“Hungry?” I felt his hands rest on my shoulder, I only nodded as my breathing went quick, I was planning to refuse, he could drug the food or drink but my guts betrayed me, it growled like an animal smelling meat.
I disassociated for a while and when the next sound was heard—the breaking of a glass, I found us staring at barely hanging by the socket vending machine tilted in one side.
“Nut allergies? Soy? Lactose intolerant?” He locked his red eyes unto me as he chose between the contents of the vending machine.
“Uhm…seafood.” I just replied and he nodded once and grabbed a potato chip and bars of oat and chocolate.
“Ed?” I asked while chomping on an oat bar with trembling hands. The universe is speaking to me, glass shards big and sharp enough to be a weapon is laid just few feet on the floor by my wheelchair.
“What is it, love?” He grabbed some for himself too.
“Are you going to harvest my organs? Or am I going to get trafficked?” I took a swallow, preparing to dive for the glass to defend myself if ever he bursts into a psychotic rage.
“I already told you…” his voice was calm but he gripped a bar of chocolate that was snapped while in the wrapper.
“This isn't a den, it's a hospital, mental hospital—what’s your name again?” He interrupted himself, returning to his calm demeanor.
“W-Waylon, sir.” I managed to say and he just sighed. “Hmm…I think Waylon will be more useful if he learns to…shut up, don't you think so?”
I stayed quiet and just chugged the water that he gave me like it was the best ambrosia handed by the gods themselves. I am already going stray from my plan, I had to be his perfect little pet, and a good pet doesn't whine in their master's face but waits.
Chapter Text
WAYLON
I woke up because of a sensation on my leg. I think I've fallen asleep sitting up but cannot remember when or where. I just woke up.
Shit…Where am I?
I thought, trying to let the pins and needles subside, but the crippling stabbing made me feel worse, not to mention it's dark.
“Ed? Eddie? "That's the first that I had thought of asking for help, better than the flayed man and the lipless giant.
“Who's there?! "I asked out loud as there were noises beyond the darkness. I tried to be quiet as I tried to grasp the wheelchair to make some distance.
Damn it! No, it can't be.
I wasn't sitting on a wheelchair but a metallic, cold one, a latticework of uncomfortable cushion that had cradled me for I can't remember how long.
Then another sensation came into my senses: the darkness was a pressure upon my eyes; it was a cloth wrapped around my head.
I traced it to find where it's tied only for the next sensations to flood me—I'm wearing something over my head, fabric and draping with a weight on top of my skull, a cloak maybe? I don't know, but the knot was caught by my index finger and thumb.
Then, the horror came loose as I undid my blindfold.
Waylon leaned back in the throne he was sitting in when the bright lights flashed in cue with his blindfold finally off.
“Wait…” he exclaimed, putting a hand on his line of sight to make himself adjust. There were cheering, inhuman, and animalistic yells, like he's a newly crowned prom queen.
His voice caught up in his throat when he saw where the applause and inhuman yells were coming from.
Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck?!
He mentally chanted as his eyes roamed the scene. He was sitting on a makeshift stage, and these creatures, variants, severely malformed crowds in straightjackets, hospital robes, or none at all.
“Children! Cry for your mother! My bride! Our queen! ”Waylon's head snapped to his right, and he saw Eddie joining him on stage. He wanted to lash out, to shout, but he knew by the way Eddie addressed them that these people were under his league.
Waylon then saw what he was wearing: hospital bedsheets of different colors, sky blue and white, reaching down to the floor, and cut-out drapes on his head like a scarf. Then he reached to the top of his head only to touch a crown made of human jawbones screwed to fit on him.
He was dressed like an abominable amalgamation of the Virgin Mary, a desecration of the holy mother.
“Ed? What's the meaning of this? "Waylon angrily grunted amidst the cheering when Eddie was within reach.
The tall man just smiled and tightly gripped his upper arm.
“Hands off, ow…you're fucking hurting me! Ow, my…my leg.” Eddie dragged him to stand, and his injured leg got dragged and accidentally buried by his body weight. The hem of his makeshift holy robe didn't help with his loss of coordination.
"Now, now, be good in front of our children." He grinned through clenched teeth as his fingers deepened their grasp, like Waylon was made of clay.
Mother…
Bless us…holy mother…
Let me hold you…
Just a touch…
The crowd of Eddie's followers just adored as they spoke through their decaying frames while Waylon was at the edge of the makeshift stage, falling from the lack of balance, only at the mercy of Eddie's painful grip.
“Eddie, let's talk about this, man. Look…I—I did everything you asked me! Not this! ” Waylon bargained, but they fell on empty ears.
“Ready? "The taller man just addressed his ‘children.’"
“She's all yours! "He cheerily yelled and swung Waylon into the crowd of feral people.
“Ragh! No! Get your hands off me, fucker! "Waylon resisted as the crowd grasped him and lifted him up in the air, crowd surfing him on patients who took the opportunity to touch and do as they would.
“AGHHH! ”He yelled when a patient gripped his injured leg and yanked it back.
“FAGGOT, LET GO! ” He screamed when a variant licked his face; its decaying gum of sores and cavities left their stench on the spit on his face.
“I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU! "Waylon kicked those who held on to his injured leg.
Elbowed the ones who tried to pin his arms and smell them.
He headbutted the variants who tried to smell him.
He thrashed and screamed that his voice broke while the variants kept groping, biting, and scratching him.
Then a variant lost its grip on him, and he plummeted on his side on the hard floor.
The variants’ cheerful celebration died down.
“YOU DROPPED HER!? "A voice echoed at the far end of the crowd, on the stage, Eddie.
“I can't believe it; you fucking dropped her?? "Eddie had both hands holding his head as he pushed past the crowd; the variants cowered.
“Are you alright, dear? ” He reached out to Waylon, but the smaller man just pushed him away.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He grabbed Waylon on his jaw.
"You…you just watched," Waylon replied, his voice broken, crown and drapery almost undone, and he's almost being exposed.
Eddie ignored him and turned his attention to the crowd.
"Now which of you fuckers did it?” He angrily said, and the variants pushed a terrified member near Eddie. It's not even the right one, just the one who is weak and can't fight back that they chose to offer to Eddie.
“Come closer, son.” He instructed the variant who was crying and shaking.
"Come on now, don't embarrass me in front of your mother, now, now child.” Eddie approached the terrified one gently at first, then he grabbed his nape tight and made him stand near Waylon.
"Ask for forgiveness.” He shoved the variant closer to Waylon. It just cried and made a hog-like sound; it's trying to speak, but it can't speak.
“Again," Eddie urged.
It squealed and oinked. It's trying to speak so bad for its safety, it made Waylon feel an inch of pity.
“AGAIN! "Eddie punched its back, and it recoiled. Waylon just watched teary-eyed, but he can't be weak in front of it.
"AGAI—" The veins in his neck are bulging out.
“Eddie…enough, I-I forgive him…just take me away from this fucking room, please." Waylon wasn't asking; he was demanding, trying to coat it in helplessness, even though he's helpless in the first place.
“Of course, dear." He kneeled and cupped Waylon's face, full of bruising and bite marks like his exposed legs and arms.
Waylon, all was well, but Eddie swiftly stood up and swung something in the air.
Blood started to pool and squirt as it turned out; he slashed the mute variant’s neck with a scalpel.
The patient just fell on his knees as he choked in his own blood.
Waylon's wide eyes made him scurry back and vomit, but he was thankfully assisted by Eddie, carried bride-style as Waylon's jawbone crown fell into the crowd, who cowered in the corners huddled like livestock about to be slaughtered.
“Hush now, my dear. It was an accident." Eddie wiped off any remnant of saliva off Waylon with a rag and tap water.
There were rags in the sink too but also an empty chloroform bottle, Waylon saw it and now he has an idea how come he was left to sleep in his room and wake up by the stage.
“You, you just let them, Ed. Why?" Waylon stared at the floor, can't get off the vision of someone's neck being cut open, he knew how much blood a body can hold but never saw it pour in real life.
“Darling, they deserve closure. They're our children." Eddie just shook his head returning to wiping.
What the fuck he's talking about?
Waylon just gave a nod, he can't trigger this man after witnessing him murdering a mute person without second thoughts.
Waylon felt bad at the patient but he couldn't prioritize him over his situation, he was thrown around for damn sake, assaulted, and bitten.
“Maybe, it's because I'm new to this Ed, but can I at least ask you to take things slow, I-I was just scared a while back.”, Waylon suggested.
“Fine…fine…” Eddie muttered under his breath, the two of them are trying their best not to burst out on each other.
Yes.
Waylon said in his head, thinking he's molding Eddie to his will, not the other way around.
Chapter Text
Trash piled up at the floor, his padded bedroom or what Eddie proposed to him as was the best he can sleep in right now.
Waylon laid on a mattress, he has been here for almost a week or less. Just here piled up with hoarded food and water Eddie provides.
He stretched his casted leg, tried to wiggle it, just to feel a small sense of control.
His bathroom needs were the ones Waylon hated that much, he felt meek, too helpless, too useless. The worst part is that he has to ask Eddie to be taken to the restroom.
Eddie would hoist him up to his wheelchair, let to the unsanitary restrooms in the asylum. Waylon never dared to look down whether his wheelchair had ran over a fat maggot or a severed finger, all he cared about is to be sat in the cleanest cubicle to take care of his business or just to bathe at the slightest while Eddie stood outside the cubicle.
WAYLON
The cold water dripped on my hair, I just had another chance to bathe with anything I can use to scrub myself clean, never cared whether they were laundry detergent or detergent bar, any will do as long as they are not harmful enough to put to skin.
The wheelchair creaked on the dimly lit halls now I recognize my prison, the flickering light of badly wired fluorescents, the red light of elevator signs that leads to a pit of dead bodies. I could barely hold myself together now.
I'm no fool, after Eddie's bride introduction to his cult, I saw the chloroform rags, I know that he too may rape or assault me at any time given, he's just waiting for a reason for him to do it.
I know because I saw him randomly punch and topple items and objects within his reach, probably his erection is too caged in his pants but he cannot set it free without any trigger.
Despite his aggression, he never directs them to me, he would return his sweet and charming mask just to tend to my needs, I am the one holding the mental leash right now and it spikes on his neck.
"You seem to be in a state of deep thinking, darling." He uttered making me look back, I forgot he's still pushing my wheelchair.
"Just having some thoughts." I said, darting my eyes as I'm being led back to my padded room.
"Mind if you give me a piece of those thoughts?" He cooed, it annoyed me but I had to come up with something for the mean time.
"I missed gardening." lies, I don't know a thing or two.
"Gardening?" He seemed joyed by my answer, it's the most feminine thing activity I can use to tweak his dominant mindset.
"Yes, I used to garden and walk around, and sit under trees." I laughed at myself, I barely even touch grass without breaking out into rashes.
"We do have a garden downstairs." He points out.
Yes.
I cheered in my mind.
"Mind if I see it for myself?" I looked up at him, making my eyes seem soft for him to see.
Our eyes connected, his bloodshot red eyes and blue irises seemed almost glowing.
"Please?" I added.
"Okay." Eddie just swung the wheelchair to the other way.
I darted my eyes around not too obvious though, just pretending to rest my head to left then to the right to glance at any memorable signs to be used as escape.
"Where are the others?"
"They're in their usual businesses, dear. Worry not." Eddie referred to the cult like children of his.
" Hang on." He turned me around as an elevator came into view, it was one without any decomposing corpse under its shaft and that made me relax.
He pressed down and we descended.
And then there's the lobby, dark and the dim lights could die any longer. Then after a few turns of left and rights of hallways, we came to see the "garden" Eddie talks about.
It was a section of the asylum, it was a covered gymnasium of some sort with high ceiling with a collapsed section of the roof, the surroundings were dark but the daylight streaked into the hole of the collapse.
I found it breathtaking for someone without any knowledge of gardening. The hole was overtaken by purple and dangerous wisterias all in full bloom that they outnumbered the leaves, just purple blossoms from the outside draping like curtains of corsages in the gymnasium.
Rays of sunshine contrasted against the darkness that held us like chains, the purple blossoms swayed in the air shaking few petals off like hands waving back to call us in.
"Ed... they're beautiful." He chuckled when I whispered that under my breath, the sunlight warmed me up like an old friend as Eddie strolled me in the middle of the dangling blossoms and then a wind came, shaking off few of the wisterias and Eddie spun me around in my wheelchair like we're dancing.
"These beauties found their way into this ruin and took over it, I always thought they were nuisance, now I know they came here to stand wait in your arrival." Eddie glazed his lips on my exposed shoulder, I focused into the flowers instead of him, or I might've gagged from how he disgusts me.
The two continued the rest of the day time stroll until they end up in the courtyard, it was daytime for sure but the outside and supposedly flourishing gardens of sheds were barren, more corpses bleaching under the heat of the sun, the ground has this unusual wetness and the wheelchair wheels dug trails on the soil.
Vandalism and cult like messages sprawled walls and the fountain water had long been turned to algae and rot.
"Here." Waylon requested still playing along as Eddie strolled them under a tree.
"What was your parents like Ed?" Waylon asked and it was a terrible miscalculation.
Eddie tensed but his mood got heavy.
"You don't have to say it of it's not good." Waylon patched it up quickly and Eddie leaned in the tree and slid down beside the wheelchair.
"I don't come here so often... Everything here is all dead, no more flowers to pick, no more fruits that bore, having you here feels like something is worth visiting this courtyard again." Eddie laid his head on Waylon's thigh, despite the wheelchair bound man obviously uncomfortable.
Then all of a sudden, Eddie reached under the skirt he made Waylon wore.
"Eddie! Stop!" Waylon pushed Eddie off startled and he lost balance in the wheelchair, he plummets backwards but managed to turn to land on his knees.
"Darling, you hurt yourself." Eddie picks him up with ease and leaned Waylon to a tree.
"I'm sorry, I just got surprised." Waylon downplayed to not cause Eddie to be triggered.
"Your knee..." Eddie held Waylon's bare knee, he slightly raised the skirt and he inspected the wound.
"It's alright, Ed." Waylon tried to pry Eddie's hands off his knees but Eddie grunted and tightened his hold on the injured knees making the other man wince.
"Don't tell me what to do." He said in his voice laced by incomprehensible threats.
Then Eddie parted Waylon's legs open and dove face first.
"Eddie please not here...I don't like this." Waylon started to cry as he has no way back of diffusing Eddie.
"Oh gosh..." Waylon just whipped his head back to the trunk as Eddie started to bob his head. When Waylon tried to pull his hair back, Eddie just looked up and slapped Waylon that he had split his lip, then he held both wrists with a grip.
"Behave." He said and Waylon just laid back once more waiting for himself to feel it so it'll end.
When Eddie sucked on the tip and turned his tongue around it, Waylon couldn't hold back anymore and spurted three powerful pulsating sensation and Eddie cleaned him off without any reason.
Eddie looked up at Waylon's face whose blushing red and tears stricken, Eddie pushed back to hold his thighs, even the injured leg, possibly to devour him to the other one thing his tongue and mouth didn't worked on but then Waylon sobbed uncontrollably and covered his eyes.
"You're hurting me, Ed." Waylon complained and Eddie let's go.
"We'll get you patched up." The scarred man put Waylon back on the wheelchair to bring him inside.