and then we'll build the world again (Outlast)

Chapter 5- Waylon

There was no time to process what had happened. No time to reflect on his own actions. Though there was no doubt about it.

Eddie Gluskin was dead. The man who had been tormenting Waylon for endless hours, who had stalked him around the Vocational Block, calling for him like he was a blushing bride waiting to be swept off his feet. His kind words and suave voice was all a mask to hide his true identity. A traumatized, misogynistic serial killer.

Gluskin, who had captured him and tied him to a table with a saw close enough to cut off his genitals was nothing more than a bloodied corpse with a pole skewered into his belly. He ended up in the same fate all of his victims suffered before him. And it was Waylon who let it happen.

All the time spent roaming Mount Massive, avoiding getting murdered and tortured by maniacs, praying he would make it out alive to see his family again ultimately landed him doing thing he promised never to do. Despite his treatment as an employee and later as a patient, Waylon never wanted to cause harm to anyone. He wanted to believe he was above the likes of Frank Manera or even Jeremy Blaire, who killed people for their own benefit. He wanted to prove that he was different. That he would make it out alive without hurting anyone, no matter how evil they were.

But he failed. He had indirectly let Gluskin die. It had been an accident, he kept convincing himself. Was it? He could hardly remember now.

He could have saved Eddie if he wanted to. Sure, gravity pulled the Groom backwards and pushed him into the rod, but there was a split second where he could have reached his hand out and grabbed him. Instead, he watched him fall pathetically, in awe and amazement and relief. The man who was going to hurt him was gone forever.

He thought of what Miles had said to him. ["You did the right thing. Even if it doesn't feel right. He won't be able to harm anyone anymore."]

Waylon didn't know if he liked Miles all that much. The feeling was probably mutual. But he knew saving him was the right thing to do. He hoped Lisa would think the same. Although by the time he escaped this terrible place, he might as well be a monster.

He didn't want Lisa, above anyone else, to see him as a monster. He knew she was fighting tooth and nail to get him back from being wrongfully committed. Even if it put herself in danger, she was stubborn enough to save him. He felt a lump in his throat as he thought of embracing her, promising to never let go. He would tell her how much he loved her, again and again. She would laugh and kiss his cheek, whispering sweet words to comfort him, assuring him that everything would be alright. And then their wonderful would sons run by and he would hear their bright, bubbly giggles.

He missed them so goddamn much.

What would they think of him now? A broken man coated in dried blood on his prison jumpsuit, already numb from seeing gore and dead bodies with wild eyes that saw things that weren't there. They didn't deserve to have a husband or father that was on the brink of insanity. They deserved so much better.

His weak leg wobbled, and he almost fell forward into the grass. Lisa, boys...I am so sorry.

Something sinister flashed in his mind.

"We...could have been beautiful..." Gluskin's final gasp was uttered before fading into silence.

His heart rate increased, trying to shake away the imagery of Gluskin's guts being torn to shreds. Even if he didn't regret it completely, and was relieved he was alive, he was still unnerved at what he had done---indirectly or not. He never wanted to admit he almost wanted to laugh at the sight.

The rain had stopped by the time they made it outside, like Miles had said. The soft pitter patter of raindrops were only faintly dripping into a nearby sewer grate. He shivered, zipping up the borrowed jacket. It was still cold.