A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews and support! I hope my story continues to please you! And Mizu. no. Oujo. 1967, thank you so much for your kind words. You are very sweet! :D And, as an apology for being gone for so long, if anyone wants me to draw something-anything- for this story. Let me know! I haven't drawn in such a long time, and would love some prompts.

Welcome any new readers! Enjoy!

"WAYLON!" I nearly threw myself over the ledge trying to catch sight of him. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!"

'Oh God, please don't let him to be dead. Please don't let him be dead!'

All I was greeted with was silence.

"WAYLON, GOD DAMMIT! ANSWER ME!" Tears sprung to my eyes as I gripped the edge of the roof, prepared to jump after him.

Finally, a faint groan drifted up from the darkness, and I felt my heart beat again.

"You're alive! Thank God! Are you alright?!"

Another groan greeted my ears.

'God, he fell down three floors. He probably broke a few bones.'

"D-don't worry!" I scrambled to my feet. "I'll be right there! Don't go anywhere!"

I practically ripped the nearby stairway gate off its hinges before flying down them at a breakneck spped.

'Please don't let anything happen to him! Please!'

(Waylon)

"Gah….Fuck.!" I clutched the side of my head as I struggled to sit up. "Should've….taken a…running start."

Suddenly, sharp pain ripped through my side, and I fell back to the ground, my breath shallow and weak.

'Fuck….I think…I fractured a rib. But…I can't let that stop me now.'

Bracing myself against a nearby table, I winced as I pulled myself to my feet and looked up at the hole in the roof.

"Young-ja?" It hurt like hell to speak, but I had to let her know I was okay.

"Young-ja? I..I'm..fine." I breathed out, spotting my camcorder laying at the edge of the table. "Are…you alright?"

There was no reply.

"Y-Young-ja?...Crap, please tell me you aren't coming to fine me."

The silence answered my question, and I hit my head against the wood wall in front of me.

"And you say MY good intentions will get me killed?! Crazy kid…" I picked up the camcorder and flicked on the night vision. "I….I got to find her before one of the variants do."

Clutching my right side, I stumbled towards the hole in the wall behind me.

"Hopefully, she is just ri-."

"Don't need any sisters. Maybe some….some girls that ain't blood."

I froze in my tracks as a dark figure paced behind the boarded wall five feet from my face.

"You ain't old enough to be worrying about it."

'Another voice? But there is only one perso-oh shit he has dissociative personality disorder.'

The man and his various alter egos continued their mumblings until they were out of earshot.

The minute their voices faded away, I scurried across the room and hopped over a fallen crate, the nerves in my side screaming with every move.

'Suck it up, Waylon! You're no good to your family or Young-ja dead!'

I found myself in a room filled with fallen shelves and crates, like some former storage room.

Slipping between two shelves to gain access to the other side, I froze once more when the dissociative man's personas spoke up again.

"If we had a visitor. If we did. He could be our goat." The soft spoken persona said.

'Fuck, they know I'm here.'

Getting on my knees, I crawled down the aisle as quickly and as silently as I could.

"We need a goat." The speech impediment persona agreed.

I could hear him stalking down the aisles one by one, tapping something metal against the shelves.

Crawling to the right, I slid under a table and could see his bare feet six aisles over.

"What in creation are you talking about?" This persona sounded like an old man.

"He just likes to hear himself talk." A deeper voice. A….father persona?

"To bear our guilt." The soft persona piped up again. "Our gender. A small piece of flesh between us and the blade."

The word 'blade' struck a chord in my brain, and I scrambled forward once more, keeping my back to the shelves.

'Bearing your guilt? What am I, a sacrifice?!'

"A gift for the Groom."

'Me and my fucking big mouth.'

I crawled over a dusty crate and slid between another pair of shelves.

'The Groom…..? Where have I heard that before?'

Suddenly, it hit me and I almost dropped the camcorder.

'He was the one that Variant from the tool shed was singing about …Jen-jang*'.

Armed with this new disturbing knowledge, I pressed forward with renewed vigor, trying to ignore the numbing pain from my side.

Once I slid through the aisle, I found myself in an open part of the room, which made me think I was nearing the exit.

'Yes! Hold on, Young-ja! I'm coming!'

However, my good mood was shattered when I turned the corner and almost ran into a body hanging from the ceiling.

"Shit!" I hissed, stumbling back and falling on my butt.

The body swayed back and forth in the breeze like a pendulum, and I struggled to control the pounding of my heart against my injured ribs.

Once I calmed down, I inspected the body and realized it wasn't a murder, but a suicide.

'Lucky bastard. You took the smart way out. Whoever you are…I hope you're at peace now.'

Unfortunately, my vigil for the man was cut short when I heard footsteps nearby.

Quickly, I went around the body and dived into the next maze of shelves.

"Lisa," I mumbled to myself, sliding through another close aisle. "I hope ther -."

"Quiet!" A horribly disfigured Variant shoved his head through a space in the shelf, almost sending me into cardiac arrest.

"If they ca….If they catch us, they'll give us to him. The man downstairs. The man…Very bad." His colorless pupils darted around, and his hand began to convulse. "Very, very bad….God…Oh God!"

Then he raced away, fleeing from someone only he could see.

'Shit, I need to get out of here NOW.'

I spotted an opening in the wall adjacent to me and threw myself inside it, hoping to find a way out by hiding in the walls.

But, just as I was making my way through, a pair of fists began slamming against the decaying structure.

"Rats in the walls!" The impediment persona cried out. "Kill the rats!"

He kept pounding on the wall, like he intended to break it down and drag me out.

Like Hell I would let him though!

I tore down the path and darted into the room on the left, looking for something-anything-that would get me out of here.

Turning to my right, I spotted a metal crate blocking a hole and quickly braced the side and started pushing.

That was a horrible idea.

"Fuck!" I clutched my side and almost collapsed onto my knees.

The pain had increased, and if I didn't get out of here soon, my ribs would puncture my lung.

'What would you do in this situation, Lisa? …..Probably tell me to suck it up and keep going, right?'

I smirked at the thought and began pushing the crate once more, biting my cheek to silence my whimpers.

Finally, the hole became accessible, and I scurried through.

I weaved through several more shelves, walls, and tried every single damned locked door, only to feel like I was only going deeper into Hell than out of it.

. .worse.

After launching myself over a wall and nearly breaking my ankle, the Dissociative Variant finally found me, and he was armed with a freaking machete.

"There he is! What do you think?"

"Oh, he'll do. Let's give him to the Groom."

"Oh, like hell you are!" I took a sharp left and ran for my fucking, miserable life.

"He's getting away! The Groom'll have us!"

'How about he has none of us?!'

I found a stack of boxes that lead up to a loft and climbed up it, kicking the boxes as I passed them to prevent the Variant from following me.

"Shut up! We'll find a way around. We know this ground and don't mind huntin'."

Collapsing onto my knees, I used this tiny respite to catch my breath and deal with my side, which was starting to form a nasty bruise.

"Oh Lisa, I'm never going to get out of h-HOLY SHIT!"

Like a gift sent from the Heavens, a stairway was settled to the left of the loft, like it was beckoning me.

"Yes!" I scurried to my feet and hopped onto the wooden floor below. "Freedom!"

As I raced down the stairs, I could hear the Dissociative Variant laugh in the distance.

"Here comes your bride, Mr. Gluskin."

And just like that, the Stairway to Heaven turned into the Highway to Hell.

'Young-ja,' I gulped as I reached the bottom floor, seeing a light behind a curtain in the distance. 'Please, wherever you are, don't come and find me.'

Slowing making my way towards it, I told a shallow breath before moving the curtain aside.

Then, I fell to my knees and threw up at the repulsive sight before my eyes.

'Please, Young-ja, spare yourself and DO NOT COME AND FIND ME.'

(Young-ja)

After what must've been an hour, I still hadn't found Waylon and was now hopelessly lost.

"Dammit, I hope he's alright."

It appeared I was in a former arts and crafts room from how many sewing machines laid scattered on the table.

'Did a place like this really have an art program? That seems so…..normal.'

A stack of payers lay next to one of the isolated sewing machines, so, curious, I shuffled through them.

Whoever drew these was extremely talented.

Every page had a breathtaking wedding dress design from ruffly bodice to lacy gloves.

It was apparently to anyone that a lot of love was placed into these designs.

"What a shame." I sighed, placing the illustrations back on the table before walking away. "This person could've been a great fashion designer. What wasted talent."

Then, just as I was re-entering the hallway, I heard a faint scream in the distance.

It sounded like….Waylon!

"Oh God!" I whipped around on my heel and tried to find the source of the scream.

Then, my blood froze when I heard another voice.

"Tell me you are okay! I hate to think of you suffering without me!"

That voice….that charming tone…why does it send chills down my spine?

I continued after the echoes, and from the sound of it, they were coming from the floor below.

With every step I took, the voice grew louder and more coherent.

"You'd rather….rather die than be with me?" The charming voice sounded so forlorn and heartbroken. "….Then die."

But it was immediately replaced with a tone of disgust, and I knew Waylon was in huge trouble.

"Fuck." I whispered before sprinting further down the hallway.

When I turned the corner, I heard the elevator coming to life from the shaft to my left.

Then, I could hear the charming voice right below me.

"What have you…..? Ha! Then we continue!"

The sick pleasure in his voice made me want to throw up, but I just settled for opening the metal shaft gate and watching the elevator move back down.

'I have to hurry and find Waylon before that freak does!'

Once I was sure the elevator's occupant was gone, I slammed the call button and watched it come back up.

'Hurry up! Hurry up, you stupid machine!'

The moment the elevator stopped, I threw myself and slammed the down button rapidly.

"Come on, you fucking machine! My friend is in danger! Move it!"

Finally, the damned thing moved down at a slug's pace, and I didn't bother waiting for it to settle before dashing out.

Splatters of blood trailed down the left hallway, and I felt my skin pale.

'I swear, if this is Waylon's blood-'

My thoughts were interrupted when a loud clang echoed down the hallway.

"Fuck! Let me go, you psycho!"

'Waylon!'

I was about to run towards the sound of his voice, when the charming voice butted in.

And he was getting louder by the second.

"Oh, darling. You make yourself a gift for me. A delicacy to be unwrapped and—unwrapped again. And savored."

The way he whispered at the end gave me shivers, and I hid behind a large crate when the voice was the next hallway.

It sounded like he was dragging something-something heavy and metal.

"I'm not your fucking 'darling'! And I'm not a woman! Let. Me. Go!"

Though he was so close, Waylon's voice sounded muffled…like..he was inside something.

Daring a peek over the side, I found my answer.

A large, hulking man was dragging a bent-up locker behind him, a locker where Waylon's screams drifted from.

But, that wasn't the part that caught my attention.

No, it was the man who captured Waylon.

I immediately recognized that smile on his face as the same smile I saw in window near the maintenance shed.

'The Groom….'

Plastering myself against the wall, I waited until he and the locker passed before peeking out once more.

I tried to think of what to do next, but all I could think of was the lullaby that patient sung in my ear.

Above the knees, below the navel,

Sliced and sewn on Gluskin's table.

To make a place to push inside,

The Groom will make himself a bride

"Oh God.." I covered my mouth, my body shaking and tears forming in my ears. "He's going to mutilate Waylon into one of his brides, then he will…."

I couldn't bear to finish my sentence, so I wrapped my arms around my knees and curled into a ball.

I knew I had to go after Waylon, rescue him from this nutcase because….

Because he is my friend and I knew he would do the same for me.

So, why couldn't I move?

Why wasn't I already down the hall and snatching him away from this horrible fate that awaited him?

Am I that much of a coward….that I care about myself more than him?

My shivers turned into sobs, and as I leaned against that wooden crate, I wanted nothing more than for this to be a horrible nightmare. I'd wake up and Miles would be next to me, snoring away like always. Then Ae-cha and Annie would come barreling in and demand to eat breakfast. Miles would pretend to still be asleep, so Ae-cha would climb on top him and poke his face, chanting "Daddy, wake up!". And Miles would groan and open his eyes, saying "My Cheerio is very bossy" before taking our giggling girl into his arms and kissing her forehead. Then he would turn to me and kiss me good morning, just like always.

Just like it should be.

But….this wasn't a dream.

And….I wasn't the only one who wanted to be back home.

Waylon has Lisa and his sons.

Lisa and the boys are waiting for him, just like how Ae-cha and Annie are waiting for Miles and me.

'We all have people to live for.'

It was that thought alone that made me swallow my tears and climb to my feet.

"H-Hold on, Waylon." I sniffed, bracing myself against the wall and following the locker indentions on the ground. "I'm coming to get you."

The trail marks lead me to a room drenched in blood with body parts piled up in the corner like garbage.

A wooden table sat in the middle of the room, blood caked onto the surface and a rusty buzz saw in the middle. Chucks of flesh, both old and new, hung from the dull blade and I could just hear the screams of all the people 'The Groom' got his hands on.

I spotted the locker across the room and raced towards it, shoving my face against the open slits.

"Waylon!" I whispered. "Waylon! It's me, Young-ja!"

I could see him crumpled at the bottom of the locker, and I could detect the faint odor of chloroform.

'Shit, he drugged him.'

"Don't worry, Waylon." I placed my hand onto the vent, hoping he could somehow sense my presence. "I'm going to find a pry bar and get you out of here, so just wa-."

Before I could utter another word, a large, gloved hand covered my mouth and I was shoved back against a hard chest.

I couldn't even struggle because a sharp blade was immediately placed against my chest, and the world became cold.

'…No…' I whimpered, tears streaming down my cheeks. 'Oh God no…!'

"Ah, my darling." 'The Groom' sighed, burying his nose into my hair and inhaling deeply. "You've finally come home to me."

A/N:

*-a very rude way of saying 'shit or damn it' in Korean

So, Young-ja is in The Groom's clutches, and Waylon won't be able to help her since he is knocked out for the next 12 hours. And, just a far warning, the next chapter is going to be pretty graphic. I figure most of you have played or seen walkthroughs of the Whistleblower DLC, so I think you can guess what I mean. Look forward to seeing you in the next chapter!