Eddie Munson - Novel Like

050 - New Beginnings

Eddie's POV

I  crammed the last of the boxes into the back of the van, saving my  guitar for last. Carefully, I sat it across the front seat before  heading back into the trailer.

Wayne was leaning against the counter drinking his coffee. His tired eyes  from working the night before watched me carefully. This was the part I  was dreading the most. Not the packing or hauling of boxes, but saying  goodbye. Goodbye to the man that willingly took me in and raised me as  if I were his own. The man that gave up his own bedroom, so that I could  have a shred of privacy. The man that worked tirelessly, day in and day  out to provide for our makeshift family. The man I considered a father. 

"Well, you're finally getting your place back" I joked, reaching for my keys that hung by the door.

Wayne  released a laugh. A husky, gravel filled laugh I'd grown to find  comfort in. "Yeah, it'll be a hell of a lot quieter without that shit  you call music playing all day."

I  nodded my head, "Very funny." I felt the lump form in my throat and the  sting of emotion threaten my eyes. Wayne and I didn't do feelings, but this suddenly felt a lot harder than I ever imagined it would be.

He  broke the silence first, "I'm proud of you, boy." There was a hitch in  his words. I didn't have to look at his eyes to know they were tearful.  "And I love that girl, so don't go and fuck it up" he added.

"If I do, you fully have my permission to kick my ass" I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck.

Wayne  closed the gap between us, squeezing my shoulder firmly before pulling  me into his embrace. "Like I need your permission" he muffled. "I'll  come by and see the new place on my day off, okay?"

I  agreed, seeing him off to work before walking slowly towards the back  of the trailer. I stood beneath doorframe of in the empty room. The  walls seeming bare without my shit to clutter them.

I  still remember the day Wayne brought me here. I was eight and my mom  had just died. The days that led to her death were traumatizing. I  didn't speak to anyone for a week.

At  first, it felt like a cruel joke. Having an entire room to myself and  three-square meals a day. Even if most of them consisted of canned  spaghetti o's and pop tarts. It was still more than I'd ever had before.  I sat in the corner just waiting for bad...but it never came. 

That  Saturday morning, I woke up and walked into the kitchen. Wayne was  cooking bacon and pancakes, listening to The Allman Brothers. I made fun  of his shitty taste in music and the rest was history.

Everywhere else I was known as Eddie 'the freak'  Munson, but here... here I'm just Eddie. This was my sanctuary, my safe  space. The only place where I had creative freedom, privacy, and peace.

This  room is where my love grew for D&D. At the desk in the corner, I'd  created countless campaigns and painstakingly painted hundreds of  miniatures.

Determined  to teach myself to play guitar, I spent countless hours sitting on the  floor beside my bed. Practicing day in and day out, strumming the  strings until my fingers bled. Once I became comfortable, I started  learning covers of my favorite songs and even wrote a few of my own.  Corroded Coffin itself was born and bred within these four thin walls.

I  woke up here with my first hangover, I'd gotten bored one night and  drank all of Wayne's beer. Threw up all over the carpet the next  morning, while my uncle belly laughed in the hallway. Wayne's also  threated to kick my ass in this room more times that I can count for  getting high and being late for school.