Augh! I'm just so, so, SO SORRY for being absent for so long! It's insane to move from Arizona to Washington state via car. So tired...
But, the entire time, I've found that spark in my heart to inspire another chapter to be created. Mind you, this chapter will be like a song-fic, because this song wonderfully matches this horrible man, Eddie Gluskin...
I don't know anymore, about what I want.
For weeks, I had been under this roof of a family that had wholly accepted me for who I am. I would have thought of them to be afraid, but, no. They act as if there is nothing to be scared of... It's not that I desire them to fear me, oh no. Having this sense of friendship and trust is a wonderful change, compared to my life back in that wretched hell-hole of Mount Massive Asylum. I love this new heartbeat drumming in my chest, whenever I see any of my new friends' faces. I feel safe, acknowledged and... Loved.
Dear rabbit,
My legs are getting weak, chasing you.
The snow fields wouldn't seem so big, if you knew...
Yet, I constantly worry... I'm so damn worried about them, about their own safety. From Murkoff, from me. I don't want them harmed because of my existence. I don't want them hurt because of the Asylum realizing mine and Waylon's location, and planning some ambush. I know what Murkoff is capable of. They would have Waylon and I obtained and dragged out of that house, while these armored, military men are ordered to stay back and... exterminate the other witnesses - Lisa, Paul, and Henry... Oh, God, why would they do that to a completely innocent family of the crime? It's not their fault!
I'm scared of hurting them, as well. What if I lose my temper on any of them? What if I lash out and strike them? I know I constantly promise all three of my newfound friends that I would never let anything happen to them, and that I would do anything to keep them untouched by cruelty. But, sometimes, I wonder if that cruelty would be me? I don't often question myself and my principles, but... But what if I'm wrong?
Now, this blood on my teeth, it is far beyond dry.
And I've captured you once, but I wasn't quite right...
So I'm telling you, that you'll be safe with me.
I may have come to love the twins as my own. That shouldn't be so surprising, I suppose. I've always wanted children, as many as I can possibly get, and I was extremely lucky to come home to two young boys that so willingly accepted me as one of them. I had never been so confident within myself to always be so amazing around children, and usually doubted myself on ever being a grade "A" Father, as I always wished to be. But, nonetheless, I had been taken by the hand and given all their heart to trust them, and I did.
Henry is a child I've always wanted to be. That carefree boy, with just the boyish-worry over fun and friends. Of course, I won't act upon those child like behaviors. I know I'm old enough to be their Grandfather, depending on Waylon's age, and I know I'm not young. But Henry looks at me like a second Father, somehow, and then, he acknowledges me as a close family-friend. I would always protect his innocence, and his purest of minds from the rotten world he's been barely exposed to.
Paul... Paul, I understand fully. He isn't as pure and happy as his upbeat Brother. He has been exposed to the reality of the world too young, being thrown around like a ragdoll, as if he didn't matter. His parents fight to protect him, and he understands, but deep down, he knows the damage has been done. He can't be fully repaired. And he accepts this. It's molded him to be an adult at such an innocent age, and he has done everything in his power to be an example to strength, not weakness. And he's shown me it. He's shown me that not all children are damaged, like me.
And, Lisa. Dearest of dears, Lisa. I've already come to the obvious fact that I have a high school crush on the girl. But, who wouldn't? She's beautiful, she sensible, she's caring and loving, and she loves me for who I am. Oh, uh, no - she doesn't love me romantically, but, loves me enough to hold onto me, and promise to never let me go. Even if I was experiencing a horrible night-terror, I knew it was Lisa who came to rescue me. She held me the entire night, having to sleep right beside me in bed, continuing to have her arms around me while I tried to calm after the storm. I had never felt that motherly-embrace before, ever, until Lisa held onto me...
Lisa is two important figures in my life, that I never had. She is like the absent Mother I've prayed and wished for every night when I was small. Then, she is like the big Sister that would do anything to make sure little Brother isn't bullied or pushed around by the bigger kids. Lisa's been an only child, I've come to learn, and that her parents weren't the greatest. Perhaps she wants to be better, for the family's sake? Which was why I've loved her since.
Never would I let anything happen to those three. Murkoff would just have to kill me, instead, because I promised to protect them. And, as you may know, I NEVER go back on my word.
Rabbit,
My claws are down now, so don't be afraid.
I could keep you warm, as long as you can just try to be brave.
Oh, but, I would still want to live. Who else would look out for my Darling? Who would love him, as much as I do?
Perhaps I am greedy and selfish sometimes, when it comes down to Waylon. I would love him forever, though. Is that such a crime? ... Well, from all the crimes I've done in the past, I would suspect as much discrimination. I know what I've done in my past, and there's nothing for me to do, because I cannot reverse time. But, quite frankly, I wouldn't like to change anything. I'm not ashamed of the mass murders I've committed. I'm not ashamed of the many, many innocent lives I've taken for my own personal gain. No, I'm not fucking sorry.
They all built a clear path towards Waylon.
Isn't it funny, though? When you build a road to goodness, you're thrown with the bad right in your face? But, when you build a destructive path or journey towards the hatred and the low, you are suddenly given the chance at good? Perhaps fate is a sucker for the bad guys, thinking they need more help than anyone else. I sometimes laugh, knowing that fate had every given chance to just kill me. Get over the cycle. But, no, it didn't. Instead, it gave me another opportunity to live free, and plead not guilty to all crimes. Fate is the judge, and always has been... And I walked.
Yes I know I'm a wolf, and I've been known to bite.
But the rest of my pack, I have left them behind.
I can always say that fate chose the right decision, even though the verdict was wrong. But, here I am.
For weeks, I am at my Darling's side, unable to let go of him. I had no idea just how clingy I was, until one night in my room. Another night-terror, another person to come and hold me. But, it would always be Waylon coming to save me from my dream demons, when I could feel them nearing and strangling me. I never asked of Waylon to always come back to me, whenever another episode occurred. He accost me, on his own will. I had always feared that it was out of pity, not love, which would sometimes be the reason why I would lash out at him behind his family's back. I framed him for not loving me like a person, but only loved me as some pitiful person. I know I've hounded this weak man long enough, but it's never enough.
Am I an abuser, as my Father had always made me out to be? I wouldn't know. I don't hurt Waylon for my own gratification. I hurt him because I love him too much to make him turn away. I cannot stand it when he doesn't look at me, or pay attention to me, or doesn't acknowledge me. I need him to notice me often, and never look the other way. I can be physical with him, yes, and he doesn't care. I had been throwing out slurs that can count as verbal abuse, and Darling takes in those words without hesitating.
Why? Because Waylon hits me back.
Yes, he does.
Before, the poor fool would be so scared and cowardly under me, as I overpowered him greatly. But now, since he is back home with a family he's been absent of, it seems to have awaken another side of him. Waylon screams back at me, warning me not to call him all those names. If I don't stop, he will gladly make me shut up with another hit. I had no idea just how strong he was, honestly. It's not that he has a history of violence - perhaps it was the Morphogenic Engine that has changed him. Aggression is the first sign. But, mind you, he's never this bad to the family. Just me.
And you know what? I am fine with this. It's something I'm use to.
When we fight, it's always private. We don't go rampant in front of the others, else they would discover our past together. We fight behind closed doors, or go outside and settle it like men. Waylon never means it, and I never mean it either. I don't know how to control my temper still, and Waylon has churned into an aggressive cobra that would strike at any moment, had he felt threatened or provoked.
You must think he hates me, don't you? It wouldn't explain the many times he had come to me for comfort. It wouldn't explain the countless times he's come back to save me from the monsters under my bed. It would definitely not explain in every brawl, he's never once told me that he hated me. And I never, ever, EVER tell him that, either.
"Eddie, I'm sorry. I mean, I didn't mean to..." Waylon was sitting at my side, wrapping a long stripe of bandage around my palm. He struck at my opened palm with a knife earlier. "Shit! Fuck! I keep fucking up!" Waylon shouted at himself.
"You keep fucking up? Ha." I scoffed hard. "I almost sliced your eye open yesterday with a fork."
Waylon didn't take it as a joke. He obviously hated how he was evolving into something he wasn't. "Eddie, I-I'm sorry. I don't mean any of this." He held the side of his hazy head with a hand. "I don't want you uncomfortable in this house. Not like in the Asylum-"
"Shush." I leaned in to kiss his lips. "You talk too much, technician. I'd ought to staple your mouth shut and throw you downstairs in the basement without any food or nourishment. Beat you fucking senseless, you little jackbooted-shithead." But I embraced him, tightly in a bear hug. "Then, I'd like to kiss all your wounds better and tell you how much I love you, over and over again, because you're so cute."
Waylon pulled away slightly to kiss me the same way, running his hand up the side of my head. I made a yelp when I felt him pull hard at my ear. "I wish I could live forever." He smiled when I winced to another pull to the ear.
Yet, I made a savage grin. "Oh, yes! Then I'd kill you everyday!"
We aren't perfect. We are disgraceful human beings. But, I love him enough to let him harm me. And he loves me enough to take in those insults. When I look him in the eye, I don't sense hate. I sense someone needy of my attention, thinking he can save me. I know I cannot be saved, but I love my Darling. I just love him.
And my teeth may be sharp, and I've been raised to kill,
But the thought of fresh meat, it is making me ill.
"Do you really want to do this? You know, you don't have to." Waylon assured me.
"... I know where they are. I just want to confront my fears, for once." I firmly stood by my decision.
Waylon and I were sitting in that red jeep, parked right outside of a house just at the boarder of Tuttle, Oklahoma. It looked rundown, somewhat, from the way the grass surrounding the home outgrew like a cornfield, and the exterior was neglected of rebuilding the crumbling walls and peeling paint. Bugs likely lived among the wild, harboring into this home like a hive. Junk outside the backyard cluttered together with rust and years of grime gathering between the metallic machines and gardening tools that hadn't been picked up in years. The front door looked chained up and stuck, as if it were meant to be an example of abandonment.
But this was my childhood home. I knew it wasn't abandoned.
"I always had to tend this place, when I was a boy." I began, as I continued to stare at the very house that had haunted my dreams. "I remember always having to mow the lawn, take the dog out, and, uh... Repair with Uncle..." My eyes shifted away to look at Darling. "I know they're here. That front door has been stuck for eons. The back door is only available."
Waylon gave me an uncomfortable look, his face written and plastered in worry. "Eddie... I'm here, if you need me." He gave a squeeze to my hand. "Don't let them hurt you again."
I knew they couldn't hurt me. I knew they couldn't touch me, like before.
Upon reaching the house door, in the backyard, I had found the wooden gate. I remembered when I was a boy, I was too short to climb over it. But now, as I am taller, I can easily step right over. So, I did. Once I was on the other side, I had made my way to the stoop, that sat a lone feral cat. It looked at me, and didn't recognize me, from the way it hissed and ran fast. I continued up to the porch, also being stopped by the familiar furniture sitting outside, draped under rotting blankets. Some of them looked like my childhood furnish.
As predicted, the back-door was unlocked. The screen door no longer existed, and the thick, wooden door was thinning from neglect and age. I propped open the heavy door, prying it open with all my strength, and walked inside.
A wave of nostalgia hit me hard, like a gush of cold, Northern winds. I found myself standing in a kitchen I remember being burnt and sliced-open with a butcher-knife in. It looked like a hoarding room now, clamored and jam-packed with useless junk and papers on daily news. Books were dried out and old, and the smell of decaying food and rats was thick. I felt one critter run across my feet, but I didn't flinch. This wasn't the first time I've encountered rats so often. Hell, I even remember this place being shut off from heat and water for weeks. CPS was always evaded by Dad.
I walked passed the running stove that was heating up a rusted kettle, and went into the living room doorway. When I stepped over the short hill of broken electronics and paintings, I found that the old living room had been used to hoard as well. Same shit, same room. Newspapers, furniture turned over or covered, walls painted in gray, and the carpeted floor ripped and stained from food or alcohol. Once again, that smell of Uncle's favorite liquor hit me like it did every morning in my early days. Cigarette smells had ceased, strangely.
"... Who the fuck're you?" A gruff from behind me asked. "I ain't had no visitor since five months ago."
That voice... It sent a shiver down my spine. My body felt paralyzed where I stood, and I had almost thought to run. But... I needed to stay.
"Well, sonny? Got somethin' to say?" The man behind me chuckled.
I took in a deep breath, clenching my hands into fists, and turned to face him. "... It's been too long, Dad."
So, I'm telling you that you'll be safe here with... Me!
The man behind me was, indeed, my Father. I hadn't laid eyes on him, ever since I was seventeen. He use to be taller, and more buff. I remember being short and thin. But now, it seems as if we've physically changed roles. He was still the same height, but I've outgrown him by six inches in height, towering him like a building. He was thin from drug-use, I could tell, but I wasn't sure if it was heroin or cocaine. He only started drugs after I was taken away, so I wouldn't quite understand his usage. His head was bald, except for some surviving patches of black hair on the sides. He was wearing dirtied clothes. I was stuck-up enough to wear some cleaner, nicer clothes than him.
Father looked on at me, a small shot-glass in one, burly hand, full. He stared for a long time at me, our blue eyes identical. I could feel the sudden wave of awkward intensity rising in the silence, as we both took in each others' new faces. I looked at him like he was a sack of old shit.
"... Eddie." Father shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "... Eddie, boy." He tried to say something, I could tell, but a sudden choke of a sob held him back. His shaky hand dropped the shot-glass and cupped over his mouth. "No way... No fucking way..." I could hear my heart racing in my chest, thumping in my ears. And maybe, just for a moment, I could hear Father's old heart skip a beat as well. "... Son." He inhaled deeply, still staring right at me, his face wrinkled and abused with alcohol and drugs. Before I could say something, Father turned around quick and started shouting, "XAVIER! XAVIER, GET YER CRIPPLED ASS IN HERE, NOW!" Father was calling for Uncle.
I took a step back, starting to feel overwhelmed. I thought for sure Father would have liked to fight with me, and I was mentally prepared. I didn't think he would be so... jovial?
"What? What the fuck're you yellin' at, Randy?!" The creaky sounds of an automatic wheelchair scurried into the living room, running over the newspapers and books. "You know I ain't suppose to be yelled at like that-" When Uncle got into the living room doorway, he stopped when he saw my face. I felt those same daggers stab through me once again, feeling the utmost pain overpower my emotions. But no, I wouldn't show it. "... Who the fuck is...?" Unless couldn't finish his question, studying my face.
Uncle Xavier looked like he finally hit the final stage of emphysema. His constant smoking landed him right in a wheelchair, due to weak lungs. A portable oxygen-machine was strapped to the back of his chair, with tubes wired up to his nostrils. He was sagged with an overwhelming amount of medication and such that had made him more large, hard to clean himself on his own. He had some bandages wrapped around his shin and around his shoulder. His eyes, blue as mid, were weary and foggy, stricken of life's coarse.
"... Is that who I think... it is?" Xavier continued staring at me.
"It's my fucking Son, ya moron! It's my Son!" Dad couldn't hold back his sobs any longer. His eyes were spilling tears, pouring down his wounded cheeks. "Shit! Holy shit! Eddie!" He outstretched both his boney hands to me. I looked down at them in disgust. "Son, please, lemme hold you-!"
"NO." I nearly screamed, eyes wide and focused sharply on Father's wrinkled face. "You keep your fucking distance, else I'll be hauled back to Mount Massive Asylum I've been turned loose from." Mentally, I chuckled at myself. My Southern side was coming out. "You will not hold me. You will not touch me. You will not FUCK ME, like you did my entire childhood!" I hadn't realized how much I rose my voice, until I began to remind myself on Father's voice, when he screamed. I realized I was louder. "I'm not here to make merry... I wanted to just..." I shook my head feverishly.
"You got so tall, Eddie..." Father couldn't stop cooing, trying till to approach me. "You look like yer Mom's Brother now..."
"Uncle Bruce was more of a man than you both combined." I coldly insulted. "I wish he were my Father, instead. He would have raised me right. He would have tried to protect me, from motherfucking molesters, like you..."
Uncle and Father began to fidget. They didn't want accept what they did, still. "We know what we did, Eddie. We know you got fucked up by us, the time you ran away from home! Those people took you to that Asylum, and we weren't allowed to see you!" Father quickly brought out something wrapped around his neck. It was a gold cross. "I've changed, for the best for you, boy! The Lord made it clear I did."
And right there, all the anger and frustrations bubbled into pure laughter. I was laughing! My hands were stilled balled, and my face was red from cawing like a laughing crow. "The Lord? The LORD forgave someone like you?!" I felt myself shake. "Any deity these days would always forgive any pedophile, rapist, and any child molester out there... Any of them! But, the children are the real Gods here... and they've damned you.
"So, don't bring me that religious bullshit, when you know fully well you're going to burn in Hell. I was forcibly taken to that Asylum, and I had picked up that bible to find the false forgiveness from an invisible person in the clouds. And you know what?! I found out it was all just bullshit! What I did back before the Asylum marked my fucking way to Hell! I am just going to sit in that hot pit like it were MADE for me! I shouldn't be forgiven for what I've done, and I don't give a shit if we're God's children! I killed them! I DESERVE TO BURN.
"... Ever since Mother died, you two did nothing but use and abuse me. You roll your eyes now, thinking you didn't do anything wrong, but I remember everything! You did everything in the book that every pervert just DREAMS to do to a helpless child! You've choked me, you've strangled me, you've drowned me countless times and revived me, you've burnt me on my legs and back, and you've RAPED ME. If God forgave two swines like you, them I must be the one at fault, right?! It's all Eddie's fault God hates us, right?! It's always Eddie!
"Oh God, I've dreamt so long to avenge Mother and Uncle Bruce, for what you did to them! You beat Mother, and made Bruce bury her while she was still breathing! Then you killed him... You killed family... Then, you just turn on me like you were the top-dog killers of Tuttle, with the filthy secret of taking two lives away! No - three! My own was taken savagely, and I was dead when you both took that time to pulverize me with so much... so much... I just dreamt everyday on killing you... Both of you!
"... But, I won't.
"Just looking at the two of you now, you both will die on your own. Father, you look like a washed up drug-addict that looks ready to fall over and die. Uncle, you look like you're pounds closer to death. A little bit more, and your tiny lungs will give out, and you'll suffocate..."
Both men looked on at me with so much emotions churning in their eyes. I could see Father was heartbroken by my words, while Uncle looked absolutely furious and outraged by my words. I was ready to defend myself again, wondering if any of them would get up to fight. I didn't want to kill them, because it would just sate their satisfaction that they got the best of me. Enough to kill them, and end their miserable lives. No. No, I wouldn't give them that one, final offer. Never.
"Boy... you're one fucked up man." Uncle Xavier decided to speak on his behalf. "How can you just come out here and tell us all these lies? We did nothing but raise you good! Your Mother was a schizophrenic gal, that killed herself! Uncle Bruce thought we did it, and tried to kill us! So we did him in before he got us! Why are you being so goddamn disrespectful of your elders, you shitface? We're practically dying, and all you think about is yourself! You're still that little selfish prick-!"
SMACK.
"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF MOTHER AND BRUCE LIKE THAT! NOT-FUCKING-EVER!" I screamed straight in Uncle Xavier's face. "And you!" I turned fast to Father and backhanded him, hard enough to sent him flying to the filthy couch. "Eddie, it's your fault! It's all Eddie! But, it's not! YOU TWO WILL PERISH AND WAKE IN A SPECIAL HELL FOR ALL THE CHILDREN YOU'VE SABOTAGED!"
I could have killed them, right then and there, but...
"I finally have something you two never had. I have a family, and a... a partner, that loves me back for my insanity that they can only tame." Once again, I found myself trying to fight back the emotions. I didn't want to show them that I was breaking down. "I never knew what love was, until I was held onto that person. The one I love so much, with every fiber of my being... I will love them forever." I took one last look to those wastes of life, and gave a snarky scoff. "Bleed here and die."
And I left.
I left to find Waylon there, to hold me once the beginning of tears started. He told me that he was proud of me, to face my fears, and confront them. He said he was proud of me to stand for myself. I left that broken home with my head held high, and my spirit down and tamed. I left with the child I left behind all those years ago that was trapped in that house.
And I'm not fucking sorry.
So, rabbit,
Please, stop looking the other way.
It's cold out there, so why not stay here,
Under my tail?