So, this is something a little different.
I've had this on my mind since I finished Breaking Bad a few months ago, finally got around to seeing it through. Loved it, especially the end of Season 4, which so happens to be the base for this story.
CrawlSpace will stand as one of my favourite episodes, mostly for its closing scene. This story is basically a semi-novelisation of the final few minutes, as well as a piece of experimental writing on my part.
Disclaimer - I don't own Breaking Bad, it belongs to Vince Gilligan.
This is the death of Walter White.
It's been a long time coming. There is no avoiding it.
As you stare upwards into the face of your cheating wife, you hear your world crash around your ears. Pointless grasping at clumps of money that won't by your family's safety, you feel the panic lunge and sink its teeth deep into you.
You can't speak, you can barely breathe.
Ted Beneke.
She's given away your money to the man she was fucking.
You cover your face; you can't bear to look at her. And in that darkness, you see Gus. He stands before you, inhumanely still. Looking at you with the same deadeye stare sharks have right before they strike.
"I will kill your wife. I will kill your son." All this was horrifying enough, what Gus had said next sits in your heart like a knife: "I will kill your infant daughter."
In that darkness, you see it. Skylar and Junior, on their knees. Gus looming behind them like the angel of death. Your wife pleads, begs, and your son is panicking, introduced into your world so suddenly that he can't comprehend it.
With a box cutter, perhaps the same one he used on Victor, he slits your wife and son's throats. They die slowly, arcs of red flying beautifully in the air. The only thing more worse than this is the disappointment and hate you see in their eyes.
"Why didn't you save us?" They garble, plums of blood falling from their lips like strawberry syrup.
The real Skylar is talking, begging. "I did it for the family!" She bleats and oh.
Holly is sobbing, screaming. You see Gus raise a foot. He stomps.
The crying ceases.
You don't realise your howling until you feel the burn in your throat. Rage and despair, it's the final death cry before the pit swallows you whole.
Oh.
How ironic.
You had more money than you were ever going to spend, and now you don't have enough to save your family. Your wife has ruined everything by giving away the money to the same she used in a pathetic move to hurt you.
It's so ironic that all you can do then is laugh
And as you laugh, giggle, choke and wheeze on your mirth you feel yourself…drifting.
Falling.
You no longer see Skylar's bleached white face of terror nor the opening to the crawlspace. You no longer see Gus and his dead, shark eyes that promise murder. You no longer hear his threat or Holly's throat cracking under his boot.
You stare lifelessly into oblivion, because you see it's hopeless.
You haven't a hope of stopping Gus. You've driven away Jessie and Saul is useless.
You're all alone, you have nothing.
.
.
.
Except for me.
Hello, Walter.
Don't worry, you're not going mad. You're just…waking up.
You know me, you always have.
You know it in your soul, for I am your soul. You cannot escape me.
You, Walter White, are puny, small. You're nothing, a hollow shell, a rusty trap straining to hold me. But I've broken through, every so often. Small bursts of my majesty that afford more time to your already dwindling life.
You've known of me since the beginning, since you hear the distant, deafening tick of your personal clock, and you have tried to stop me. But you can't, not with beer, love, family or the weight of age. But still you've tried, still you've run.
You've tried so hard to drown me out, but your voice is weak.
I am you, Walter.
The ice in your gaze, the steel in your voice.
The cold calm as Jane chokes on her vomit.
I am the one who knocks.
And as you turn to ash and crumble, I rise. Smouldering, I burn you. Burning you, I flare, hot and bright and fierce and beautiful.
The time has come.
You can't outrun this, you can't avoid Gus.
All you can do is get your family out of the crossfires.
After that, well…
I'm sure we'll think of something.
And so, as I gather us onto ourselves, I reach up and pull ourselves out of the crawlspace.
There's much to do and little time. I intend to make the most of it.
This is the first day of my life.
So, what did you think?
Love it, hate it?
I needed to get this out, otherwise, I never would. I also needed to write something different, as I've hit a block in my writing. With this done, I should be on the mend.
Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!