A/N: Thank you so much for the awesome and lovely support and reviews! I hope my story continues to please you!
I welcome all new and returning readers!
Please enjoy!
(Miles)
After Ae-cha's birth, it was only logical that the next step would be to show her off to her grandparents. My parents invaded the hospital nine hours after the birth….even though I never called and said Young-ja went into labor. My mom must be a psychic because when I asked how she knew, she just said "I know everything". Anyways, they marveled at the little Cheerio and brought a shit ton of baby clothes and toys. Young-ja was happy they came, but I could tell she was a little embarrassed to be seen in a hospital gown and still recovering from hours of harsh labor. Luckily, my parents aren't idiots and took a hint, saying they would go ahead to our house and set everything up from when I drove her and our newborn home. So, in short, they are the typical grandparents that spoil their grandchild with goodies and hugs. I expected that though, no one loves children more than my parents. Every time they come over, they worship little Cheerio and ask if we've been good parents to her while we are right next to them. Other than the occasional, "Buy my granddaughter more toys" and "Let me see my granddaughter more often!", they are pretty content with our parenting method: firm at times, but not authoritative and very nurturing and loving. While we would love to spoil Ae-cha, we know there are limits and we do our best to teach her right from wrong and that you can't always get what you want. I think we are doing a good job so far because Ae-cha is very sweet and polite.
But, I'm her dad so I might be a little biased.
Now, on the flip side, there are Young-ja's parents, aka Mr. and Mrs. Stick-Up-My-Ass.
Due to the risks involved with newborns on flights, we waited until Ae-cha was two months old before flying to Gun-san to see them. We did send pictures beforehand though so it wasn't like they hadn't seen her before.
Ae-cha slept for most of the flight which was fucking fantastic because if she cried the entire time, the other passengers would've thrown us into the ocean. Not before I threw them off first though for being dicks to my baby.
Oh, and just for your information, I never got over my fear of flights so that sucked balls. Young-ja helped keep my mind off the ride by tracing comforting words on my palm and singing in my ear during take-off. So basically she had to be mommy to our baby and then mommy to her 28 year old husband.
God, I love that woman.
When we arrived, the old farts were waiting for us at the gate. As Young-ja showed off our baby in her arms, I swear I saw smiles on their faces and immediately looked to the sky for flying pigs. They had a baby hanbok made for Ae-cha, which was actually pretty generous of them. As for their affection factor, they patted her on the head every once in a while but that was it.
Eh, we'll take what we can get.
We have gone to visit them several times over the past two years, and I have learned they have several opinions on the way we are raising Ae-cha. Well, I have several opinions about their faces, but do you see me vocalize them?
It is usually stuff like "Why do you hold her so much? Put her down." or "Why do you dress her in such extravagant garments? Simplicity is best." or "You need to be more firm with her. She must learn to be respectful at a young age."
To which I respond with "I hold her because I fucking want to. She is my baby, not yours"and "Because she is freaking adorable and I love buying cute clothes for her", and "Don't tell me how to raise my kid. Ae-cha is a baby, not a solider in the army."
As you can see, I've stopped trying to win points with them. Their daughter already put a ring on it, so what the hell can they do to me~?
Nuh~thing~! That's what!
I'm surprised Young-ja turned out to be such a warm person knowing her parents, but I guess she had some outside influences growing up. Young-ja doesn't really like talking about her past, and I respect that.
But she is a wonderful mom, and I do my best to be a loving and dependable dad, so I think that is all that matters in the end.
Mom, Dad, thanks for your stamp of approval.
Mother and Father-in law, you can suck my kneecaps.
(Young-ja)
The further we went down the hallway, the thicker the air became with smoke and my eyes began to water.
"What the hell?" Waylon muttered, waving away some of the smoke from us. "Is something on fire?"
"That would be my guess, Mr. Programmer." Miles muttered under his breath, earning a glare from Waylon.
'Miles,' I mentally sighed, pulling my scarf over my nose and mouth to keep from further damaging my throat. 'Grow up.'
Eventually the smoke become so thick we had to crawl on the floor…which is not easy with one arm, but I managed.
"This way." Miles grunted, pointing up to an open window. "The air should be clearer in there."
However, after we hopped up on a table and climbed through the window and landed on the other side, we saw for a fact that the air was not clear. Instead, we found the source of the smoke: a burning lunch room.
"So about the air being clearer."
"Shut up, Park."
The air was so thick and hot that it hurt to even move, but we had to.
Miles held me close as we slowly navigated past the burning lumber, holding his hands out to shield us from the flames. In the distance, I could make out a hunched over finger and I gestured towards it. As we moved closer, we realized it was a patient.
"Hey," Miles called out, "Are you the one who started the fire?"
"And why are you just sitting here?" Waylon added on.
"I had to burn it. All of it." The man replied, staring at the ground with this worn out expression. "Murkoff took so much from us. Used us. Turned us into these….things because no one cares about a few forgotten lunatics."
As this… this pyromaniac said those piercing words, Miles and Waylon immediately looked at each other, as if remembering why they were here in this mess in the first place.
It was to take down Murkoff for profiting off the lives of innocent people.
"Hey," Miles called out again, this time in a softer tone. "You need to come with us. You'll burn to death if you don't."
"So let it burn. Let me burn." The pyromaniac shrugged, still refusing to make eye contact. "Just…burn the whole good damn thing to the ground…."
"But you'll die here!" Waylon reached out towards the man. "We can hel-!"
"Leave me alone!" He swatted his hand away before slouching forward once more. "Get out…if you want to live. You can…get out through the kitchen."
Staring at this patient…this man who believed burning to death was a better option than staying in this hell….my hatred for Murkoff increased and I wanted to scream and apologize to this man and all of the other patients.
But I just let Miles and Waylon lead me away, and we walked towards the kitchen.
"Shit!" Miles gasped as a wooden board popped dangerously close to his face. "I can't see shit in this place. We need to put out this blasted fire."
"I have an idea." Waylon pointed up to a few sprinklers on the ceiling. "We need to turn these on to put the fire out."
Well, easier said than done.
Finding the sprinkler room was easy, but it turns out we had to turn on two valves first to make the sprinklers work, so that was just great.
Luckily, Waylon seemed to know where the valves were since he'd been through the Male Ward a few times.
However, we had a 'tiny' road block in our way: Chris Walker.
It had been a while since I last saw him, but it wasn't a happy reunion.
But, we were just quick enough to hide in the dark or behind boxes so that he never noticed us, but I'm sure he could smell us.
After playing hide and go seek with Chris Walker for about thirty minutes, we turned on both valves and raced back to the sprinkler room where Miles slammed the 'On' button and water poured down from the ceiling. After hours of being covered in blood and my own puke, it felt heavenly to have it washed off of me. I didn't even care it was soaking my rag dress, all I wanted to do was stand there and let the water wash off everything that happened tonight.
But Waylon nudged me forward and I returned back to reality.
As we re-entered the dining room, it was pitch black, but with both camcorders on night vision, we were able to make it through the room. Most of the wood was still hot, so we had to be extra careful not to touch it.
Gradually, we made it to the kitchen door and opened it to find the lights on and it was completely dry.
"Alright," Miles sighed, leading us inside. "Let go look for Father Mar-AH!"
Suddenly, the pyromaniac jumped out from behind the wall and grabbed Miles by the shoulders, shaking him back and forth while screaming his head off.
I was about to dash forward, but Waylon beat me to it and yanked him off of Miles. With a feral growl, the pyromaniac gave Waylon a rough push to the ground before racing back out to the dining room and slamming the door behind him.
Not a second later, I hurried to Miles' side, checking to see if he was alright.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," He groaned, rubbing his shoulders while glancing at Waylon who was rubbing his back. "Hey…thanks, Park."
"No problem." Waylon smiled before climbing to his feet. "Guess he wasn't happy we put out his hard work."
"Guess not." I whispered, scanning the empty kitchen and rubbing my side, my drenched state and the sudden change in temperature made the room feel like the artic.
If only I still had my own clothes.
"Here." Miles came up and placed his jacket around my shoulders. "This should keep you warm."
I shook my head and tried to give it back to him, but he held firm.
"Young-ja, you are wearing the least out of all of us. Be reasonable, alright?"
I had no choice but to agree and I nodded, rubbing my nose against the collar.
The guys scavenged the kitchen for any supplies but found it had been cleaned out; Miles did however find a bowl of fingers.
"Fuck," He snapped, slamming the bowl onto the counter in disgust. "I've said it before, but fuck this place." Then he held up his hands and stared at his own severed digits with a somber gaze. "I've still got those fingers left at least…"
I glanced down at my nub with the same amount of sorrow before moving to glance out the window.
It was pitch black and pouring.
'How long have we been here? It's….it's like we're in purgatory where time doesn't start or stop…'
After establishing the uselessness of the kitchen, we pressed forward and went down the adjacent hallway. It was dark, but I could still make out a familiar sight: the hallway where Trager murdered Felix and dragged me away to his torture room. My stomach churned at the memories, and I held Miles' jacket closer to myself.
"Hey, is it just me or is the hallway getting colder?" Waylon asked aloud, rubbing his arms and neck.
At that moment, we turned the corner and saw the exit door hanging wide open, leading out into the harsh storm.
"Nah, it's just you, Park." Miles said. "…Well, I guess the senile bastard is waiting for us out there. Let's go."
Just as he took a step forward, I reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt.
"Wha-?"
"It…is pouring out..there." I croaked out, handing the jacket to him. "Hold the jacket…over all three of…us. I can…hold your camcorder."
"But you are more im-."
"She is right, Miles." Waylon interrupted, taking Miles' camcorder and giving it to me. "It will be easier for us to see if we all use the jacket as an umbrella."
"Who said you could call me by my first name, Park?" Miles snapped, but took his jacket anyways and held it over all three of us while Waylon and I snuggled up next to him, bracing ourselves.
"You guys ready?"
"Yeah." We said in unison, and with that, we raced out into the raging storm.
A/N: We are now at the Courtyard segment! Look forward to the next chapter!