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

Chapter 20: Our Song

Waylon regrets his actions. He regrets everything he's ever done to help Murkoff in anyway. Because what he's done has destroyed these humans, or at least what was left of them.
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WARNING: There is unconsensual touches, and the r-word is used multiple times in the chapter. Please read at your own discretion.

On a side note, I'd heavily recommend this track from the OST, as I listened to it while writing this chapter, and I think it just really fits Waylon's state of mind perfectly, even if it's an OST for another canon variant.

Pyromaniac: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khJkAh-BTWg
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Waylon's POV

Waylon dreamt of warm nights, blankets thrown off of him and Lisa as they supplied each other with their body heat. Her arm wrapped around Waylon's waist, pulling herself in close behind him. There was the comfort of her body against his, their warmth together in their small home while the boys slept soundly across the hall. It couldn't get any more peaceful than that.

The dream slowly turned to death; the terrors he'd seen supplying nightmares that had shot their way through him like ice. In one moment he was walking up the driveway of the Park home, and the next he was running away from The Cannibal that wanted to taste his blood and feast on his flesh. He went from playing with his boys, playing video games and laughing, to trying to talk Dennis out of murdering him.

There was Lisa, hugging him from behind like warm water and soft pillows, to Eddie gripping his sides aggressively. He would be pulled in and twirled around like some sort of ragdoll, Eddie assaulting his want for his wife.

And the worst of all, there were dreams of him running away from variants down the halls. Instead of running into his lover's arms, he would run to Eddie, who'd shield him away from those who'd want to hurt him. It was a twisted feeling in his stomach, anxiousness as he was chased, to happiness that he was back to his captor, and guilt for feeling any relief as he escaped death with Eddie's help.

He hated the man next to him for making him feel such things.

But he also didn't hate him.

Because for some reason, there was sympathy present where hatred should've been.

The man was terrifying, that was no doubt. His actions perpetrated against those strung up like dead rabbits in the gymnasium as well as Waylon himself were enough to cause his heart to pound so hard he could barely breathe. But there was no telling what the fuck was happening to Eddie. There was no telling exactly how the man acted before Murkoff, and what had him acting so deranged in the first place.

There was a possibility that the man was just that messed up, that there was something about him that was just wrong to begin with and Murkoff just stumbled upon a dangerous killing machine. But there was also the possibility that Murkoff was somehow to blame for Eddie's aggressive, erratic behavior.

Eddie was terrifying enough, but knowing what Jeremy Blaire was like, and the way he spoke of those around him like they were less, was almost moreso. It was horrifying that someone that had that much money and power could somehow target people and make them act out like this.

Eddie was a killer. But Murkoff was the monster.

Waylon jumped awake as he heard a scream from somewhere below him.

"BUDDY!" A distant voice beamed. The voice was faint and probably a floor or two down. But it was loud enough to hear in the silence of Eddie's room.

Waylon trembled as strangled cries and blood curdling screams followed the voice. Every bone in him ached from his violent shaking, and he attempted to curl in on himself.