What inspired me to write this is the fact that Sweet Pea shares a meaningful glance with a soldier in the trench during the WWI fantasy sequence, and another with a boy before boarding the bus at the end of the film. The two male characters are played by the same actor, so I came up with my own explanation for the connection. Walter's name is a reference to Silent Hill 4.
Ghosts. They were all ghosts. Sweet Pea shook that notion off as she more closely studied the soldiers taking shelter in the trench as she passed them. Their heads were down, their facial features obscured by their helmets. Their skin was chalk white, and their uniforms were torn. Filthy bandages coated with scarlet decorated the limbs of many of them. Movement among them was limited, but it showed life. The rise and fall of the abdomen…A hand balling into a fist…The painfully slow movement of a body situating itself more comfortably against the wall of earth behind….These men were alive. She felt ashamed at her first thought. Was this what outsiders perceived her friends, her sister, and her to be? Shades? A knot curled in her stomach as she realized that the dark idea might just be true. A self-satisfied smirk formed on her face. Let them think what they wanted! While the fools toyed with words and jests, she would be striding into the sunrise.
Sweet Pea's train of thought was broken when Blondie stopped short before her, and lifted the helmet of one of the smaller soldiers off of his head, giving a cocky grin as she did so. It was as if she was unmasking a silly jester pretending to be a monster. Only, no such man was hidden underneath. Sad green eyes that had seen far too much stared up at the raven-haired woman from a grimy face. Crowning his brown hair were bloody bandages. Desperation was written on his face, as if he was staring at the answer to his very last prayers.
Sweet Pea felt irritation at Blondie, whose expression didn't change. Age wise, this soldier was barely a man, and his plight made him seem more like a little boy. It reminded her of the fact that even though she was only eighteen, she had already experienced living in poverty, and imprisonment. Blondie knew the second of the two, as well, and so it was completely wrong of her to make fun of this fellow unfortunate soul. "Blondie!" She hissed, "Knock it off!"
Startled at the sharp order, the lady in question whipped her head around to face Sweet Pea. "What'd I do?"
She was met with a glare. "Quit harassing the guys we're supposed to be helping!" Blondie rolled her eyes, dropping the helmet on the ground before taking off to catch up with the rest of the group. Sweet Pea squatted down to pick up the helmet. "Don't mind her."
What she was going to say next died on her lips as she took in the soldier's expression. It was completely unchanged, as if he hadn't noticed Blondie's bullying. Sweet Pea also took into account how his hands were clasped tightly about his rifle. He'd had to deal with far worse than a siren finding mindless entertainment with him. When he opened his mouth to speak, she leaned close to hear him over the gunfire and explosions in the background. "You…You're going to save us?" Sweet Pea let out a cry as his hands gripped hers around the helmet. She first wanted to fling it at his face to get him to let go of her. What stopped her was the fear in those clouded orbs. It was a fear that matched hers. They wanted their friends to be safe, despite the crippling odds against such a feat. In that similar fear, she found familiarity. She had seen this young man somewhere before.
Sweet Pea wanted to ask him who he was, but that would be ridiculous. It was more imperative that she answer his question. She gave a nod, and his expression softened a little. The creases on his forehead weren't as a taught. His jaw wasn't as firmly set. What didn't change, sadly, was the amount of sadness in those eyes, which were cupped in dark circles. "Your hands…They're so soft…Like an angel's," he whispered.
Sweet Pea took that as her cue to go. She really didn't need any headiness to complicate things even more than they already were. Like the other men in his unit, he probably had been deprived of sexual pleasure for far too long, and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to satisfy it. She released her grip on the helmet, causing it to fall into his lap. He let go of her, and she rose to leave without once looking back. Yet, those eerie eyes of his remained in her mind. Sweet Pea was grateful for the reality of the task at hand to make them fade away.
XXXXXX
It was all an illusion to her. The gold fields of grain dancing so freely in the wind whipped by so suddenly, torn from view in an instant as the bus sped by. Sweet Pea closed her eyes, wishing to hold that heavenly vision inside of her mind in order to combat the repeating image of a twisting, turning, black-and-white labyrinth. The kind and protective bus driver had told her that the journey would be a long one. It seemed to also be extremely frustrating and confusing. Sweet Pea knew she had to come to terms with her past in the asylum, otherwise she had no hope of surviving in the real world, yet the past was so gritty and horrific. She couldn't even look away from it because it was implanted in her very brain. Rocket...Baby Doll…Amber…Blondie…She fought the tears that threatened to well in her eyes. She couldn't cry. She had to be strong.
"Excuse me, miss?" Sweet Pea was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she jumped. When she took in the vision of her "attacker," she felt embarrassed at her reaction. It was a boy in his late teens. He had boarded the bus before her at the station. She remembered him from the look he had given her before getting on. His green eyes had been wide with recognition, but just as soon, they had narrowed, as if he had shared a secret with her. The fact that Sweet Pea hadn't known said secret had been disquieting.
Now, the face he wore was completely different. It was filled with genuine concern for her. Sweet Pea was cynically starting to wonder if generosity was the theme of this bus, and whether sooner or later some random person would suddenly dump the contents of his/her wallet/purse into her open hands. "Yes?" She asked, suspicion in her voice.
The boy blushed, seeming to have become aware of his forwardness. "I'm sorry. I just thought you looked kind of lonely, is all. You're sitting by yourself. I am, too, and I wondered if you'd like to sit together." He shifted in the seat to get further away from her, and therefore to give her more personal space.
Sweet Pea considered her options. Telling him to leave would be a prudent choice, given all the horrible things that had happened to her. They had been majorly, if not completely, at the hands of males. There was also the fact that she needed to continue her mental examination of her life. On the other hand, she was curious as to why he had given her that glance before. Given the fact that her examination had also been going poorly, a distraction was probably better. "Well…all right," she bided her response to tell him that she wasn't eager for his company.
Even though he acknowledged the pause by knitting his brow in anticipation, he didn't seem to let it affect him further. He held out a hand. "I'm sorry for my lack of manners. My name's Walter."
She took his, and chose a name she had heard over the radio as a little girl. "Eleanor."
Amusement flickered in Walter's eyes as he dropped his hand. "You sure?"
Sweet Pea frowned, and replied in an offended voice, "If you're going to question mine, I'll question yours. In case you suddenly forgot, we just met."
Walter ran a hand through his brown hair, a meek look on his face. "That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?"
He was utterly nervous, Sweet Pea deduced. His side of the conversation was completely awkward, his advances and reactions sporadic. Added to that was the fact that he was wearing a trench coat that was far too big for him, and coming apart at the stitches. Walter was out of place in the civilized world. The realization cast a light on something, a piece of information that was just beyond her reach. "Walter, I've met you before," she commented, folding her arms.
Relief glowed in his eyes, and he laid his shoulder against the seat. A nod was soon to follow. She closed her own eyes for a moment, shaking her head. "I can't remember everything. It's a blur to me."
After a moment of holding his gaze, she leaned forward, dropping her voice. "Lennox?"
Walter sat up straight at the word. "You mean Hell?" Sweet Pea shrugged, but inside, triggers were going off in her brain. The labyrinth was still endless, but a tiny portion of its bulk was being extracted, although she didn't know whether it would stay that way. She hoped it would. Walter looked past her toward the window, his gaze losing focus. "You were one of the few inmates that didn't terrorize me."
"What were you? An orderly?" The remark was sharp as an image of Blue Jones flashed through her mind.
He shook his head. "No, a resident." A resident…It was the asylum's fancy word for a family member of an inmate that had to stay at the asylum with them for any number of personal reasons pertaining to his or her relative. Sweet Pea and Rocket had been imprisoned together, so the term had been lost on them. The inmates for the main part disliked the residents because they were treated better. Sweet Pea, however, had spared the other group harsh judgment. She knew what it was like to care for someone close.
"I remember now…They called you Mama's Boy." Walter winced at the nickname. Sweet Pea didn't blame him. For someone his age, it was a clear insult to the manhood that was soon to come. "I don't know why, though. I think you were there longer than we were," she finished. Using the word "we" stung at her, but she had to do it.
Walter nodded in affirmation as a bitter look crept onto his face. "Yeah. Long story short, after my dad left, my mom had problems with her head. She was taken there when she reached her breaking point after I turned thirteen. When I stayed at home as a kid, it helped keep her sane. She was afraid of me leaving the house as a teenager. Mom begged the doctors to let me stay with her, and they decided it was best for her if I did."
His voice slowly became weaker as he told his tale. The flinty tone of frustration and anger at losing his father and precious years of his life was replaced with loss and regret. He had come to hate his mother, and he had loathed himself for that. With a deep sigh, he continued, "Mom passed away not too long ago. The stress was too much for her. Her body just…gave out," he spread his hands for emphasis, "I was told I was free to go, but I'm still only seventeen. It took me a while, but finally, I got in touch with some relatives that'll at least take care of me."
Sweet Pea gave a sad smile. It was a lot in one shot, but she was glad to have taken it that way. Walter, like her, knew that it was best to deal with the past, rather than letting it sit, and become detrimental. If that meant telling it to a girl that he didn't know well, but who at least had experienced a similar situation as he had, then so be it.
His gaze reconnected with hers, and she saw herself mirrored in his eyes. They had set destinations, but they were still hopelessly lost. "All I know is, I'm glad to be sitting here with you. I can talk about what happened," Walter finished, his tone somewhat stronger.
Sweet Pea expressed her understanding in the only way she could. "I guess you want to know how and why I'm here."
He nodded, his walls going back up. It was easier to listen to the misfortune of another than to speak of his own. She felt that in herself as she told her own story, her voice barely audible over the hum of the bus' motor. Sweet Pea made a pact with herself that she wouldn't cry in front of him. That didn't mean it didn't get hard sometimes. Telling about Rocket's death wrenched at her heart, as did Baby Doll's sacrifice. Amber's and Blondie's murders gouged her inside as well, but not as much. Her sister, her flesh and blood, was gone. Baby Doll was alive, but she would never truly live again, and it was because of her.
Walter's reaction to the story ranged from puzzled, to enthralled, to deeply upset. At the end, there was no pity on his face. Sweet Pea was thankful for that; she hadn't wanted it. Instead, there was respect. Respect for her, and for those who hadn't made it. "I'm still here, though. That's something I will never take for granted," she concluded.
The two sat in silence for a moment as the sun passed between clouds outside, its rays darkening and lightening. Sweet Pea took a moment to reflect as she glanced over at Walter. His eyelids had shut. While her love for her sister had freed her, his love for his mother had chained him. He was only a year younger than her, and he was not a bad looker. Such details were trivial, but they existed. Perhaps in another life…Sweet Pea let that gushingly sentimental thought go. She had far more important things to worry about, such as recovering from the mental and emotional damage this ordeal had given her. She also needed to face her family, and lay low from the police. Walter had it easier than her, but he still had his own troubles to face. They were different, but still alike.
Sweet Pea glanced at her hand, and thought for a moment. At last, she conceded to her impulse, and placed her hand on his, stroking his knuckles softly. Walter cracked an eye open, and smiled at her. Sweet Pea smiled back. She probably wouldn't see him again, but that didn't mean she regretted interacting with him. The same went for the deceased. They would always be with her, having left their impressions on her. It was a long and hard journey, but that fact didn't seem to loom as much over her now.