wally's lament.

[ 31 ]

⫸ HEY YA'LLLLL I'm back. Sorry for my disappearance, life got busy! Thanks for your patience loves <3

⫸——⫷

You woke up the next morning nearly hungover.

It was that groggy sort of feeling that made your skull feel tight, your arms weak and your head bleary, but you were not quite sick or exhausted. Nonetheless, you needed some coffee and a good breakfast to feel better after the numerous drinks you consumed at Poppy's ball.

You walked downstairs and began to make yourself coffee. The kitchen contained a tiny coffee machine when you bought the house, and on your last grocery trip, you had bought some beans for an occasion just like this morning. You began to brew yourself a cup.

Today was Sunday, October 18th. Halloween was in exactly two weeks, if you included today. You assumed Wally and the other neighbors would want to do something fun to celebrate. However, celebration was not on your mind — instead, you thought about George.

Even if Wally was telling the truth last night on your walk home about George not being someone to worry about, his presence reminded you of the fact that you were not safe. Now that the news article had been published for a while, detectives from your home town were surely kicking it up a notch within the investigation. This town might not be as safe of a haven as you thought.

As you sipped on your coffee, you began to make yourself breakfast. The coffee was good, bold and flavorful. It made the kitchen smell like bitterness, but the smell quickly mingled with the scent of breakfast as you stood cooking over the stove.

You felt strangely at peace. Yes, there were potentially hundreds of police officers and investigators searching for you at that very moment, and yes, your family may not have been safe, but oddly enough those thoughts did not plague you in the way that they usually did. Instead, they quietly rattled around in the back of your mind, like a moth sitting in your lamp shade, threatening to dart out at any moment but deciding not to move anyways.

You ate your breakfast slowly, savoring the calmness in your mind. The coffee filled your stomach and rejuvenated you, the caffeine buzz negating the mini-hangover fog. You were thankful that you did not work today.

As you were cleaning up your dishes, someone knocked on your front door. You paused for a moment, your soapy hands hesitating to continue rinsing the plate in the sink, before you turned the sink off and walked to the door.

You opened the door. It was Wally.

For a brief moment, you did not want to say anything, for you were afraid that any words that might come out of his smiling mouth would shatter your inner peace. But peace was always shattered, especially when you were a murderer, and you were romantically involved with one too.

"Good morning," you said quietly.

"Good morning, dearest love of mine. Your mother called."

⫸——⫷

At Wally's house, you found yourself standing in front of his corded telephone, your hands shaking.

On the walk to Wally's house — or, Home — neither of you spoke much. You had made small talk about the weather and laughed about how sick Barnaby probably felt after being so drunk at the ball. Both of you spared talking about your family until this very moment, when it was time for you to face reality.

You were terrified because you did not know what to expect when you picked up Wally's phone and dialed your mother's number once again. Was your family okay, or not?