His Name is Waylon

"He caught us," Eddie said monotonously, after they had sat down side by side on the stairs, "he had seen me with a dress I had made by myself. God, now I remember everything. Ashley had … On this day, Ashley had kissed me the first time. We had always tried to hide it from him, but this time, we … I don't know, we were too careless."

"Hide it?" Waylon asked quietly. Eddie apathetically stared on his shoes, "Well, hide that we were in love. We didn't stray around and stuff. I don't know why I've said that. … We danced in the living room, because my dad was out of town. At least this is what we thought. He came back earlier this day. … He …"

Eddie stopped, inhaling deeply. Waylon wanted to hold his hand, seeing his distorted face, but he didn't dare to.

"He saw us, grabbed Ashley and shoved him on the ground. Then he beat the shit out of me. He said … he said 'You look like a slut in that dress, so I guess you want to be treated like one.' Then he punched Ashley in the face and he ran. I can hardly blame him for that, I guess. Father used to say call me names and stuff, but this time his assumption of me being … liking boys had gotten more than confirmed."

He silenced as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"If you behave like a girl then why aren't you one? Shall I help fixing you? Let's cut off everything … vulgar." Eddie swallowed as he looked to Waylon. "He never really did that, but these were his words. I guess … you may have heard these words from somewhere." Eddie smiled tiredly.

So Eddie had used these words as he had tried to castrate Waylon, not knowing that it was his own father who had threatened him with them. Waylon got sick thinking about how you can do this to your own child. He instantly thought about Lisa. If anything like this happened to his children … Waylon didn't want to think about it.

"This whore let it happen," Eddie snarled. "She let me down, this … this fucking slut wasn't there when I needed her the most."

It was really interesting yet saddening to see Eddie insulting the person he had praised all the time back then.

"I remember her falling down the stairs … and never standing up again. But I was too small to understand. Understand that it was him who … who killed her. Him and his rage. He shoved her down the stairs, I know it, and then he told the police that she had fallen badly." His memory was right since this is exactly what Waylon had read. The psychologist had even written down something concerning domestic abuse. No child should witness this kind of things. Hearing this broke Waylon's heart. He felt terribly sorry for Eddie and he was glad that he had made the right choice: following his instincts and deciding to help Eddie. Waylon instinctively wanted to hug Eddie, but then he remembered that he couldn't do that anymore and he felt something inside. A strange feeling he wasn't able to identify. … Waylon wouldn't have minded hugging Eddie. But now, everything was over and he was happy about it since this was what Waylon always wanted. Right?

"Your name is Waylon," Eddie stated with a blank expression on his face. Waylon nodded lightly.

"And you're not a woman", he said. – "… No," Waylon replied quietly. Eddie swallowed, then he inhaled deeply.

"And 'fixing' you would've killed you." Waylon didn't answer since it hadn't been a question anymore.

"… And you don't love me." – Waylon opened his mouth in order to answer, but he silenced.

A few minutes passed in which they just sat on the stairs, staring into space and said nothing to each other. Waylon didn't know what to say so he carefully put his hand on Eddie's … but he didn't care, so Waylon removed his hand, ashamed. Why did he keep on doing this? Wasn't everything alright by now?

"My father did these things to me until I turned sixteen. I didn't know how wrong it was, didn't understand … you know, I never really wanted to be a girl. I was just curious and I liked sewing. I taught it myself, using the books I had found in father's study. … When I was sixteen, in a brave moment, I reported him and he got arrested. I never saw him again. Shortly before they arrived, the people who wanted to take me away, I ran away."

Suddenly, he turned to Waylon. Empty eyes were looking at him.

"I killed people, Waylon. When I was 19, I murdered two women who hadn't done anything wrong but looking like my mother. I cut out their wombs because I thought someone like her wasn't allowed to have a baby, since she couldn't take care of me. But then they caught me because I didn't properly dispose the wombs and I got committed to a mental hospital because I didn't realize that I had mutilated them. I just had fixed them … in my eyes."

Waylon shivered as he thought about Eddie cutting out the wombs of these women. Must've been a mess, just like cutting off "everything vulgar" at Mount Massive.

A tear ran over his empty face as Eddie formed his next sentence. "I started to lose my mind and started to forget everything that had happened concerning my father and my mother. It was so … painful. Why did these things happen to me? What did I do to deserve this kind of father? I just wanted to become a taylor, nothing more. … Waylon, your touch has triggered something. The way you cupped my cheeks, the whole situation, me laying under you … he used to touch me like this. He used to grab my jaw and force me to look into my eyes when he …"

Waylon sighed, not knowing what to say. It felt like sitting next to a totally different Eddie Gluskin.

"You need help, Eddie. Serious help. We have to bring you to a mental hospital where they really help you," he said firmly. – Eddie sighed, "I have killed two women, you know that. Apart from all the Variants in Mount Massive. I won't be able to live a normal life. I … I'm really fucked, Waylon."

"No, they'll help you, I'm sure!" Waylon contradicted. "We'll, uhm, we'll just tell them the truth! We'l tell them what your father did to you and that you've seen your mother die. Uhm, you just … you …"

Waylon struggled for words, realizing that he was defending an actual murderer right now. This wasn't a film or a book. This was real, and this actually wasn't Waylon. Everybody's got a choice to be a murderer, he would've said, and this was true. But … he couldn't stop feeling sympathy for Eddie. Someone with a past so fucked-up … god, he didn't know what to think. He didn't know what was right. It was just … growing up this way of course leaves a mark. It was't Eddie's fault. But, yes of course it was. Wasn't it?

"I … I can't do this. I, I can feel everything, every touch, hear every word like it was yesterday. God," Eddie covered his face with his hands, sobbing bitterly, "I'm a murderer … I, I've killed two innocent women. Shit, I actually wanted to … wanted to castrate you. I'm so sorry. I made dozens of men hang in the gym, die. You were about to be one of them, but then you decided to play along. I must've frightened you to death. I don't even know where I found that knife … I can't believe you endured all the hours with me – and all of this in a wedding dress and with an injured leg. … You really are a fighter. No words can describe how sorry I am for what I've done to you. And … thank you for bringing me here."

"No problem, that's, uh," Waylon stuttered as he awkwardly put his hand on Eddie's shoulder, trying to caress him, "it's okay. I mean, you were a sweet husband, really distinguished and old-fashioned, except for, uhm, your regular outbursts of rage." Waylon laughed carefully, but Eddie catatonically stared on the ground, his head resting in his palms.

"But there's one thing I can do. To make this all stop. Because I can't live like this. Back when I was blind, I already realized that something was wrong. But I just felt it, I didn't know what it was. … Now I remember."

Suddenly, Eddie jumped to his feet.

"Eddie, what are you …?" Waylon asked in surprise before he realized what Eddie planned, running towards the balcony.

"No, Eddie! Eddie, d-don't!" Waylon screamed as he saw Eddie open the double door. "Eddie, don't you dare … fuck! EDDIE!"

"No! Stay where you are," Eddie cried, "I've lost everything, why won't you understand! He destroyed my whole fucking life! Look at me! He turned me into a monster!" Tears wetted his face as he was approaching the end of the balcony. There was nothing on the ground except a pile of stones. Hitting them while falling would mean his instant death.

"Eddie, stop fucking around, g-go away from the balcony," Waylon ordered shakily, "I'll help you, I promise! I, I'll be there for you! You don't need to get through this alone!"

"I've harmed you long enough," Eddie said emotionlessly as he suddenly climbed on the railing, insisting to jump.

"NO!" Waylon yelled as he ran towards Eddie and he caught his breath as he actually managed to grab his wrist. He shrieked with pain as Eddie's immense weigh pressed his chest on the railing, almost ripping out his arm. Shit, that man really weighed a ton!

Suddenly, just before Waylon couldn't hold him anymore, he heard a loud crack and the rotten wood of the railing broke, making Waylon fall on Eddie as they both smashed on the pile of stones.

"Ugh," Waylon groaned, holding his arm, "you okay?"

But Eddie didn't respond. Instead, he quietly sobbed, and his back shivered as he buried his face in his arms. Waylon sighed, gently caressing his arm.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," Waylon stood up and squatted down in front of Eddie, "I owe you my life and I won't let you end yours this way. I know this is hard, but you have to trust me."

He stroke Eddie's head who was whimpering like a little boy. This was the truth he had been eagerly trying to find out. But was it worth it? Hot tears were wetting the dirty stones under Eddie's face; hurt, vulnerable.

I did it, Lisa. I'm injured, and I'm wearing a dress, but I finally made it. I'm still alive and I'm coming for you. This is all over now, not only for me.

Great, isn't it?

"Come on, Eddie," Waylon said tenderly as he took his hand, "let's get out of here."

After Waylon had managed to get Eddie into the car without him trying to harm himself, he had driven to the next payphone and had called an asylum near Denver, Colorado. A few years ago, 14 to be exact, his sister had been committed to this very asylum because of her depression.

Eddie had started to talk less and less. After one hour of crying and whimpering, he seemed like he had developed some sort of catatonia. He barely spoke, didn't move. He was just laying on the back seat of the car, staring on the roof, bending his legs.

"Eddie? Theres's another gas station, maybe you need something now? Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Waylon tiredly looked on the road, seeming to be never ending. The sky was dark; giant clouds were covering the sun.

"Eddie, please talk to me."

"I don't want anything," Eddie replied monotonously. Waylon sighed. This had been going on for hours now. He hadn't want to talk nor to go out for a stroll.

"I'll … I'll come and visit you, I promise," Waylon said as he took a look at Eddie. He was quietly breathing, having his eyes shut. "Don't you dare. I've done you wrong so many times. Time to see your wife."

Waylon silenced. He didn't realize that Eddie had listened when he had told him about Lisa in the car. And the twins, and Miles Upshur, and Jeremy Blaire.

"SWAT members have stormed Mount Massive, an asylum in Lake County, Colorado, which happened to be scene of human subject experiments," Waylon could hear from the radio. Apparently, some Variants had been seen by the villagers. Even former military potentates like Chris Walker had been victim of the inhumane Project Walrider. Wow, what a surprise. Nobody could escape Mount Massive's claws. The SWAT-Members where shocked: corpses everywhere. Yeah, nothing special, huh? They even told about Dr. Wernicke, this ancient scientist, Billy's darling. Blaire had used to mock him. They said that he had been found dead. Rest in peace, old man. He surely didn't want all of this to happen. Apparently, Mr. Upshur had been seen, but Waylon highly doubted that he was still alive. Some people were still missing and Waylon sighed as he heard his name. He seemed to be the only one who had managed to get out of Mount Massive alive. They were searching for him.

"Wait, I just heard that there's another patient who has gone insane," a radio announcer said, "apparently, dozens of dead bodies are hanging from the ceiling of the gymnasium of Mount Massive."

Waylon sighed again; if that didn't sound familiar. "Although there aren't any real subjects, there are two men who could be connected to the crimes of, oh … I just heard that there are grotesque imitations of a birth made out of human corpses. The police is still investigating. The two missing men are called Eddie Gluskin and Waylon Park. If anybody knows something about these two men, the person is obliged to contact the police."

Waylon turned off the radio. It was one singe imitation of a birth. But whatever. Apparently, it had taken them about two days to finally enter Mount Massive without every member getting killed. He hoped that Eddie didn't get shot instantly after arriving at the hospital. They probably already reported them to the police. Crap. He really needed to take care of Eddie.

After driving for another few hours, Waylon could see they were driving on the roads of Colorado again. What a journey. No words could describe how much he wanted to take a bath. He smelled like dog; a wet dog covered in blood and dirt. And Eddie could need a little shower, too. Waylon didn't know what time it was. Probably somewhere around 3 o'clock. His foot started to hurt again after driving for six hours. He really needed to go and see a doctor, but Eddie needed one more than Waylon.

Suddenly, Waylon remembered that he was still barefooted, sitting in the car in a dirty wedding dress, his face full of bruises and … a hickey on his neck! No fucking way they'd take him seriously looking like that. He sighed. Too bad it wasn't Halloween, he could've spared himself his costume. He really needed to drive home fast and change his clothes before Lisa could see him like this.

Lisa. It's an hour, maybe two, that separates us. Lisa, my love, my beautiful girl. Now you're so close. There've been some moments I gave up on myself, gave up on the thought of ever seeing you again, but here I am. I've survived Frank Manera, survived Dissociative Dennis, survived Chris Walker, survived Rick Trager and Jeremy Blaire and … I've survived and helped Eddie Gluskin at the same time. Oh Lisa, what if I'm not the same man anymore? What if you don't recognize me anymore? … Because I don't.

"Hey Eddie, look," Waylon said, entering the gate of the asylum, "we're finally there. Now everything's gonna be okay."

"…"

Waylon stopped the car, then he turned around and looked at Eddie, crouching in the corner of the car. His eyes were swollen from crying and he looked like a wounded animal.

"Hey," Waylon said tenderly as he brushed his cheek, making Eddie look up, "it's okay, I'm there. I've already talked to them. They understand everything. They'll take care of you."

"Will we …" Eddie whispered, falling silent. Suddenly, he grabbed Waylon's hand and Waylon could feel his sweaty gloves. Eddie was nervous.

"Will we meet again?" There was so much pain in his shaking voice; pain and despair. He looked at him firmly. Waylon nodded.

"Yes, we will," he said, "I promise." And somehow, Waylon didn't know what frightened him the most: the fact that he had promised to visit Eddie or the fact that there actually was no need for a promise.

"Okay," Eddie said, dropping his hand, "let's go."