wally's lament.

[ 21 ]

⫸——⫷

When you got home that night, you collapsed in your bed and burst into tears. You were not sad or anything, but the stress of the day had piled up like a thousand tons on your shoulders, and all of it was dangerously close to crushing you.

Home wanted Wally to kill you tonight. You thanked the stars and whatever God that might exist that Wally liked you enough to let you live.

Once you were finished sobbing, you took a long shower. It felt nice to let the water run over your skin, like you were washing away all of your icky fear. As you showered, you tried to clear your mind and give yourself a moment of mental silence.

When you were dried up and back in bed, dressed in your pajamas, you stared up at the ceiling and closed your eyes.

So, to organize your thoughts, here were the things that you knew. Wally had to kill someone for Home's sake a few times a year to keep him 'satisfied'. Home wanted to kill people that Wally liked. Home had tried to trap and kill Julie, probably also because Wally and Julie were very close at the time, but Wally has influence over Home — hence the fact that you and Julie are still alive. That phone call saved your life, assuming that Home was on the other end of it.

You also knew that you felt unbelievably grateful for Wally's existence, not just for saving your life, but because he was a wonderful friend to you the past couple of weeks. You felt sorry that he had to go through something like this; you had gone through it yourself, so you knew how tough it was to kill people when you did not want to.

But, there were still some things that you did not know. Why did Home need people dead? What would happen if Wally stopped killing people, and what power did Home have over Wally to make him continue?

And, less importantly: was Wally in love with you? The latter question begged an answer more and more with each passing day.

You turned over in your bed, looking out of your window. Right now, Wally was probably off murdering some innocent person. Although the thought sickened you, you reminded yourself that you had also killed innocent people. Murder was not always as straight forward as just 'right or wrong'.

Tomorrow, you had to resume life as usual. You had to work at the post office with Eddie in the morning, go to town and buy books for your free time, and look at houses to move into again. You had to forget about the whole thing with Wally tonight, because you were certain that you would see him again soon, probably in public, and you would have to keep his secret safe as he had done with yours. Maybe you would tell Julie everything, but at the moment, the thought of talking about what happened made you want to vomit.

You thought about your family once again and wondered how they were faring. They may or may not have seen the news article about you — if they did, what would they think? You never got the chance to explain everything that happened, so if they saw it, they would not know your side of the story. That thought saddened you greatly.

Eventually, your mind very full of thoughts, you drifted off into a restless slumber.

⫸——⫷

"Well good morning, Charlie. How are you?"

Eddie was standing over a pile of boxes, his hands resting on his hips. He was offering you a pleasant smile.

"I'm okay," you replied. That morning, you had woken up exhausted. You almost did not make it to work on time, but here you were, in uniform and ready to deliver some mail. "How are you?"

"I'm just swell," he replied in his typical southern lilt. "But I need your help taking some boxes to the train station for Poppy's deliveries before you start with the daily work. You okay with that?"