Village of sorrow ~ Ethan Winters x Reader

What Guilt Does To A Man.

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Chapter XXIII
Wordcount: 7449

.... minutes later// Location: ....

"Ethan?"

His eyes shot open when the familiar voice woke him up. The ceiling was made of bricks, dark bricks that had accumulated a certain black mold over the time. The humidity in here must have been present a long time for it to get this bad. A droplet of water which originated from filthy water trickling down the walls of the moist basement began to illustrate where he was. The contaminated drop nearly fell into his eye but splattered on his eyelid which he managed to close shut in time.

Drip, drip, drip.

His entire body was hurting. Every single joint and muscle in his lean frame ached.

"Ethan? Is that you?"

Ethan got up with hazy sight, eyes shooting open at the sight of his wife behind the rusted bars. The bars he stood behind to free her before. He was in her cell, in her bed.

"Mia? Mia!" He nearly stumbled out of bed and jolted towards her, iron bars ricocheting from his sudden weight against them. His long fingers wrapped around the handles, desperately. "Mia, what are you doing here? What is this?"

The long haired brunette woman only smiled at him, a pitiful smile.

This caused him to rattle at the bars with even more impatience. He always had the feeling she toyed around with him in that house, but he knew that couldn't be true. It wasn't true. He knew that.

With more desperacy did he lean against the bars. He let his head fall against the iron pins, not caring how loud the thump echoed through this horrifying basement.

"You're right, I lied to you. I shouldn't have-- but-"

'You lied, about what? You never told me what you lied about, Mia. You never told me the truth." His fingers wrapped around the bar even tighter as a pleading tone fell onto his usual velvety voice. "Please, tell me why you did the things you did? Tell me so I can-"

"So you can what?" Mia casually inquired.

His eyes widened in response.

"I can't sleep at night Mia. I have nightmares, every damn day. You never let me talk to you about it, I-"

"What, is there to talk about, Ethan?" Mia softly spoke, a hand reaching between the bars to stroke her husband's cheek. "What."

The grip on the bars tightened so harshly that his knuckles turned white. He felt ridiculed, like he wasn't being taken seriously. "No."

"What?"

Ethan loosened his grip from the bars and gently pushed her hand away. "You're right. There's nothing I want to talk about. Not anymore." He looked at the floor and noticed his brown Oxfords, the same as always. Just in slightly better shape than they were in the village. He lifted his hand. "No staples..."

"What was that?"

Ethan shook his head at the sharp inquiry of his then wife. "Nothing."

The bars ricketed around a little, proving that Mia had finally taken hold of them. "I shouldn't have lied to you- I'm sorry Ethan I---"

"Mia. You don't need to come up with all of this to make me feel better. Don't apologize." His voice was gentle, so damn gentle. A sharp intake of breath followed suit. "I understand."

His heart felt like it was being squeezed into a wad of paper and he couldn't help but shut his eyes. He didn't want to admit it but-- he needed someone he actually knew cared about him, to talk to. Someone who wouldn't write his problems down and prescribe a bottle of pills to 'solve' the situation. Who better but his wife at that time, when his mental wounds were still fresh, when they both could've confided in eachother. When they could have been there for eachother. Like a wife and husband ought to be.