This Time Around - Wally Darling x Reader

3 - Noon

     This had all happened before, Wally was sure of it. He recognized his fear of your safety, a fear that had firmly planted itself within his heart, and surely left no room for cultivation. He recognized the anger that festered underneath his skin, culminating in a burning desire to rid your life of all its dangers. He simply could not make the same mistakes that he had made the other times, that was all. 

     Wally remembered the very first time he had laid eyes on you. You had, objectively, looked much younger, though you entered the neighborhood in the exact same conditions you had all the times that followed. You were on the run, escaping from someone whose only intent was to rid you from this earth. Wally did not quite understand the first time around why you were so scared. He never had been fearful before, not in the way that you were. His fears fell more along the lines of smaller things, such as fearing that he had hurt Barnaby's feelings with a tone-deaf comment, or fearing that Julie had not liked one of his paintings. But your fear, however, was one that demolished your sense of being, forcing you to convert into a shell of who you once were. 

     The first time around, you had picked the vibrant neighborhood simply because of its remoteness. There is no chance you would've ever found the secluded town without specific directions, which were nearly impossible to obtain. It had appeared in your recommendations one night as you sat in your apartment, your door bolted shut as he banged furiously against it. 
     "You stupid fucking bitch! You're going to regret this! I'll kill you for it!" You had never imagined that he would take his words seriously.

     When you first met Cain, his words were sweet and kind, filled with loving promises of a peaceful life together. He was nothing like the shell of a man he was now, one filled with the hatred of everyone around him, including you. You were not quite sure what had spurred his outbursts at first, though you supposed it fell along the lines of the frustration of his job. In formal terms, he was a forensic researcher with an interest in online cases. In actuality, he spent much of his days locked up in his room, glaring at his colorful screen. The most he had ever told you about his job was that the project he was assigned to was called the 'Welcome Home Restoration Project,' though you cared very little for the details of his mundane work. It was odd to you, however, how he always seemed to claim that the website was 'out to get him.' You sincerely hoped it would hurry up and do so. 

     One night, as you sat in your bedroom, you heard an inhuman scream emit from his office. Though you debated on just leaving, hoping to God that whatever he so feared finally got to him, you decided against it. You slowly picked yourself off your bed and made your way downstairs, where you were met with his office door wide open. There your husband stood, a stapler in hand as a weapon, staring fearfully at the computer screen. 
     "What is your problem?! I was trying to sleep-" You complained, making your way into the stuffy office. He made no attempt to respond to your words, however, rather he simply stared. On his screen, you could see the vague outline of a man's face, and two glowing eyes staring straight at him. The eyes snapped to you. You remained still. Text appeared on the screen, 
     "You're there. I can't see you." Your husband's eyes snapped to yours, his fear growing by the second. The text continued,
     "Do you see me?" You wanted to respond. Something deep inside you urged you to, telling you that it would make you safe. You could be safe. You opened your mouth to respond,
     "Then stay quiet." The eyes snapped once again to your husband's form, who now seemed to be five seconds away from pissing his pants. The eyes remained there, if only briefly, before the computer forcibly shut down. Cain let out an audible sigh, falling languidly into his desk chair. He buried his head in his hands, refusing to look at either you or the darkened screen.
    "What was that?" Your voice came out shaky and quiet, unsure of what you had just witnessed. He inhaled deeply,
     "I don't know. But whatever it was," He sat up fully now, looking at you accusingly. 
      "Had an obvious interest in you."

     After that incident, he only seemed to get much worse. The yelling and hitting intensified, sometimes leaving you so battered you couldn't even bear to leave the house. This continued on for weeks, maybe months, before you gathered your belongings and high-tailed it out of there. You didn't offer him an explanation, only seeing him once more in court to finalize a divorce a year or so later. In the meantime, he never stopped harassing you. He mailed threats to your apartment, shattered your windows, and even would stand outside your job and beg you to take him back. None of it worked, however, and here you stood in the midst of this colorful neighborhood.