(Trigger warning! If you are sensitive about the subject of miscarriages, I would suggest proceeding with caution. Only 2 more chapters left after this guys! Stick around, fun's not over yet. :) )
All of them. Ungrateful sluts. He knew that – he'd always known that. That's why he tried to fix them, to help them, but they never failed to betray his love. Especially her. Clair, he'd actually remembered her name, something he rarely bothered with. What had he been thinking? He knew she was just like the others, and his suspicions were confirmed when she tried to leave him after their wedding. She'd run from him, abandoned him, got blood on the dress he'd worked so hard on. That women had promised things to him. Told him she'd be a good wife and that he could be a better man. Lies. He'd been so foolish. So blind. That whore. He'd slept with her, made her whole. Now his child was growing inside a vile, deceitful women. Part of him ached at the thought of what they'd done. It had felt so good. Right,even. She'd been so sweet, so small and completely at his mercy, practically begging to have his children. Oh, how he wanted to forgive her. But she had left with a man, and Eddie had heard them talking, whispering. She wanted to leave him, and there was no way he could forgive that.
Eddie slowly got to his feet, using the wall to brace himself, and let out a groan. He felt pain in his head from where he'd been hit, but that wasn't the pain the elicited the moan. His baby. His beautiful little girl was inside that bitch. It was going to be perfect, everything was going to be perfect, and then Clair fucked it up. It wasn't Abigail's fault, no, she was innocent in all of this. Eddie had to save her – but he knew she wasn't ready to come out yet. There was so little he could do. He was so helpless. Never – he never wanted to feel this way again.
In a fit of rage he stalked over to one of the shelves holding birdhouses and kicked it over, causing a satisfying crash as they shattered on the floor. Not enough. He turned to the tables and started flip them over, the small items and crafts smashing around him. He was tearing through the room, a constant snarl coming from his mouth, when he reached the crib. Eddie wanted to rip it apart – but he didn't. This was Abigail's. He wasn't going to punish his daughter because of what her mother had done. Eddie clenched his fists, the tension in them running up his arms and causing them to shake.
"Fucking whore!" He bellowed into the empty, disheveled room. "You bitch. You vile little slut!"
He was going to find her. Clair wasn't his darling anymore, wasn't his beautiful bride, but she was carrying his child. Eddie wanted to gut her, pull Abby from her disgusting womb then string the bitch up. But she still served a purpose. His daughter wasn't in his arms yet, and wouldn't be anytime soon. Eddie needed her alive. For now.
Waylon and Clair had made it out of the vocational block and back into the main building. Things had started looking familiar to her – she'd remembered being brought down these halls before the security team had taken her to the basement. One of the doorways they wanted to take into the main lobby was blocked, so they decided to go up the stairs. They were close, so close. There would be elevators up on the next floor, and the main building still seemed to have power in it. As the pair exited the top of the stairs, Waylon placed a hand on Clair's shoulder to stop her from moving.
"Listen." He whispered. Clair did as she was told and stayed silent. Then she heard what he had: the sound of people on radios. The kind police officers use. Something moved at the end of the hall in front of them, and two individuals dressed in black swat armor stepped into the light. There was a metal fence separating the two parties. Clair couldn't stop the giant smile that spread across her face. They must be here to help them, to get the people out who survived the.
"Hey! Hey down here!" Waylon called, his expression of relief mimicking Clair's. They were going to make it out of here alive.
She was only slightly concerned when the two swat officers looked at one another and didn't attempt to reply to Waylon's shouting. Something felt wrong. Why weren't they walking over to them? Waylon looked more irritated then anything, and started towards them down the hall.
"What's wrong with you guys? There are people here trying to kill us!" He called.
Clair felt her stomach drop when one of them raised their gun and pointed at Waylon. He froze, then started to shuffle back as quickly as his could. His heel jammed into the corner of a flipped table, and he toppled back as the gun went off. Her ears were ringing and she dropped to the floor behind the table, her hands frantically grasping for Waylon. She got ahold of his jumper and helped him shuffle behind the barricade.
There was blood. Oh god, he'd been shot. Clair flipped him over to and let out a shaky sigh when she saw the blood dripping from his upper arm. It wasn't fatal. Waylon cussed and gripped the wound with his other hand.
"Why the fuck are they shooting us?" He said through clenched teeth. Clair wasn't sure, and just shook her head in response. They were safe for now, and she assumed they didn't have a key to the door separating the hallway, but they needed to get out. It was more urgent now than before. Clair helped Waylon to his feet and they stayed close to the wall, trying their best to stay out of the line of fire. They were finally able to breathe when they turned a corner down another hall. The elevators were in sight now.
Waylon waved Clair off from helping him and hurried over to the elevator, a thankful smile playing at his lips when he noticed the lights on the buttons were lit up.
"It's working." He said happily. The gate on the elevator was shut, and as Waylon was in no position to open it. Clair, with some effort, slid it open. The two stepped inside and she shut the gate behind them – making sure to latch the lock.
She almost choked on her heart when Eddie slammed himself against the gate, his hair unkempt and his eyes full with rage. He'd found her. He was never going to stop – never going to leave her alone. It was Mark all over again.
"You disgusting whore!" He barked, giving the bars a firm shake. He pulled at the gate again, jerking it to the side as hard as he could, but even a man of his size couldn't undo the latch. Eddie slammed his foot on the bars and moved back, his whole body radiating hate. Waylon had fallen back onto the ground when Eddie had appeared out of nowhere, his hand had moved from his hurt arm to his chest, trying to catch his breath.
"Abandoning slut. You can't take my child from me. I won't let you leave. Ever. You'll never make it out of this place." He seethed. Eddie was pacing in front of the elevator like a rabid animal. "I'm going to tear her from you wretched womb!" Eddie let out a breath from his noise, and Clair only noticed now that he had the doll she'd given him in his hand. He brought it up to his face and stroked its hair, his expression contorting into pain.
"Not yet though. Not until she's ready to come out and see her father. You'll stay with me till then."
Clair's body had started to shake, and she felt the sting of tears at the side of her eyes. She knew he was telling the truth. He'd never let her leave here. Not while he thought his child –
"Eddie." Clair said softly. He whipped his head around and stared at her, his shoulders heaving with every breath. She swallowed and tried to wet her lips, unsure of what she was about to do. "Eddie, I need to talk to you. Please – please come here."
He was obviously cautious, his brows crumpling together in confusion. He wasn't expecting her to speak to him like this, he was expecting Clair to beg for her life. With the doll still gripped in his hand, he moved over to the elevator, his long legs getting him there in only a few steps. His bright blue eyes darted over her face, waiting, impatiently, for whatever it was she had to say.
It took her a moment to get the words out, but when she finally did, she felt disgusting.
"I lost the baby."
Eddie didn't seem to register what she was saying at first and he took a step back from the elevator. He quickly lifted his hand to his head and smoothed back his hair.
"What?" He asked. He was in a daze.
God, she didn't want to say it again. "Eddie, I had a miscarriage. That's why I-I left. I wanted to be alone. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sor—"
"No!" Eddie shouted. "You're lying. That's all woman do is lie. My baby is not dead. Abby isn't gone. You lied about staying with me, you lied about loving me, and you're lying about this you deceitful bitch."
She couldn't stop the tears anymore, and they came pouring down her face without warning. Clair tried desperately to wipe them away, but they wouldn't stop. This had all just been too fucking much. She harbored no love for this man, but that didn't mean she wasn't fully aware of what her words were going to do to him. Did he deserve to feel this way? To feel distraught, confused and scared? He'd done that to his victims and more. Maybe he did deserve this – but she didn't want to be the one administering the punishment. It just wasn't in her to do it.
Eddie interpreted her sobbing as evidence towards what he had assumed to be a lie and his brows clenched in horror.
"She's dead?" He mumbled. "But I was supposed to protect her. Not let anything happen to her. She can't be gone before she was even here."
Eddie stumbled over to the gate and wrapped his fingers over the metal, his left hand holding the doll to his chest. Loss contorted his face, and it took everything Clair had to not say something comforting to him. She just stared. Slowly, Eddie pushed himself away and back until his back met with the opposite wall. He slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The doll now sat in his lap, both of his hands wrapping around its back and holding it upright. Eddie started to hum now, his large thumb stroking the doll's red hair. It was something different from what she'd heard him humming before, it sounded more like a lullaby.
Before she had a chance for her mouth the betray her and say something to him, Waylon clicked the button on the elevator and it started to descend. Clair jerked at the sudden movement, then backed up and sat down next to Waylon. They were silent for a moment, but only just.
"What the fuck was that?" He asked. Waylon's hand was gripping the wound again, but she was guessing the blood loss wasn't what was making him look so pale. How on earth could she explain any of that? Coherently anyway. Clair started to give him the cliff note version, explaining the mock wedding and the room full of bodies, but before she could finished she was interrupted by the sound of gun shots. The two looked up to the floor they had just been on, and Clair involuntary covered her mouth. They'd shot him. The swat team they'd seen before must have found a way around and killed him while he was mourning on the floor.
"Good." Clair let out in a shaky voice. "He can't hurt anyone anymore – including himself." The thought of him holding that doll pained her more than it should have, but it was better this way. Waylon could go home now, get back to his family, and Clair could have the chance to try and put herself back together again.