His Lullaby {Eddie Gluskin x Waylon Park} {Outlast}

Chapter 9: Agitate The Gravel

The skyline is not seen for many a day.
And just like the wind blows into the great unknown,
We're on our way.

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Trigger warning! This chapter is heavy on the gore! Also, there IS inappropriate touching involved in this chapter, so please be careful and aware of your personal triggers.

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Miles's POV

Miles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove up the dirt road to Mount Massive Asylum. He would've taken his own car, but it had gone in for an oil change that morning, so he was made to use Mr. Fischer's orange jeep. It was a vehicle the Leadville Press let the writers use if they couldn't afford gas to go cover a story in a different location. Miles preferred to use his own stuff, but driving around in the flashy jeep made him feel cooler. He didn't have an agenda to be the head-turner on the block, but he appreciated a good style, and the jeep definitely had personality. It made an impression. It was bold, just like Miles aimed to be when he was doing his work.

Some indie rock was playing in the background, but he wasn't listening to it a ton. While the guitar notes soothed some of his unease at driving through the thick forest on his way to the asylum, it didn't actually cure any of his doubts. The sun had gone down an hour prior, and Miles regretted leaving after dinner. He wouldn't say he was scared of the asylum or Murkoff in general; he knew what they were. Jeremy McDicks and his band of fuckaroos were cooping all sorts of illegal shit up here under the disguise of charity. It's funny how money just makes some problems magically "go away".

Only this time, it wouldn't go away. Miles would find Mr. Park, along with Ashley Silvic and William Hope. He'd bring them back somehow and get justice for them. He was confident in what he believed, and the only way he'd settle was when he was able to verify their safety. Even then, maybe a part of him would still want to look into this place.

If it was even possible.

The amount of cover ups here was unimaginable. Murkoff had everyone fooled, but not Miles. He would never be fooled. He'd been fucked over too many times by others to trust them, and he's seen his fair share of feigned innocence on guilty hands during his investigations.

Murkoff would go down, and it would be at his hands.

The forest spaced out a bit after a while. He was greeted with the sight of a large sign that read MOUNT MASSIVE ASYLUM and a giant castle-like building. Miles had never been up here, this close to the building. He'd seen it in pictures and he'd heard people talk about the size, but it was so much larger than what he was expecting.

His radio flickered and static came out instead of the music, and he banged his hand down on the dash. "C'mon you crappy thing, get to it." The music wouldn't go, instead blubbering in static before it turned off completely. He shook his head in frustration.

There were some lights coming out of one or two windows here and there, but for the most part, everything was dark. Some of the panes had been broken, and Miles could see curtains from the inside jutting out into the open air as the wind swept them up and around. Lamps strewn out across the gravel showed Miles the way, up to a large front gate.

He parked the jeep and glanced at the greeting box in front of the gate. Nobody was inside of it, but computers were on and showed security footage of the perimeter of the asylum. "Huh... okay, weird," he muttered to himself. He'd expected more security for a place like this.

Miles peered uneasily out into the dark, and took a deep breath as he grabbed the file from his passenger seat.

"You don't know me. Have to make this quick. They might be monitoring.