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On The Long Way Down

Chapter Text

Waylon looked down at his phone in the August air. First day of senior year and he still didn't have a car. Or a ride home.

Where the hell was his mom? What was taking her so long? Didn't she understand he didn't have a car? He finished texting his careless mother and looked up. There was no one. It was 3:30. School ended at 2:45. He sighed loudly, very annoyed. He turned his attention to a door opening. That same tall, young, muscular man walked out. Waylon had seen him all the time last year. He had heard his name was Eddie Gluskin, but he wasn't sure. Eddie wore a button up shirt, a vest, and khakis.

Eddie walked past Waylon, catching one glance at him. Waylon looked at his face, bruised, scratched, and cut. He wondered what had happened. When Eddie saw Waylon, he thought he was a little attractive. But what did he care for a man that he didn't even know his name. Eddie was the shy type that would never start a conversation. He wouldn't say shy, more like anti-social. 

Waylon was too caught up in his own thoughts until he finally heard the last ring of his phone. He jumped up, quickly answering. "Hello!?" Waylon said. He didn't even bother checking who it was. "Waylon? I'm here. By the front door," His mother, Anna, said. Waylon sighed as a response and hung up. Great, now he had to walk all around the building. 

He walked around to be rewarded with his mother's car. He opened the door, threw his bag to the back, and buckled up. "hey sweetie, how was school?" Anna smiled. "I don't know," Waylon sighed. He looked out the window to see Eddie walking past. They made a two second, awkward eye contact. Waylon could feel his face get hot and looked away from Eddie. "How don't you know?" Anna asked, annoyed. "Okay! Fine! It was fine!" Waylon said, detecting the annoyance in his mother's voice. "You don't have to yell," Anna said. "I'm not--!" He stopped. He'll never win with these people. People as in parents. 

After five minutes of silence and driving, they pulled into their drive way. They both got out and walked into their house. People had always told Waylon that he had an amazing, big house. Asking him if they were rich or not. Of course he always said no. They were no where near rich. Their house was just...big. Nothing to it. 

Waylon went upstairs, throwing his bag on the bed. He quickly walked over to his computer. He was surprised to find Miles already Skype calling. "Hey loser," Miles said as Waylon answered. "What do you want?" Waylon sighed but also smiling. "You're science homework," Miles smiled. "We didn't get any," "Really? Why--Oh yeah! Mr. Trager gave us homework because we were 'bad'. What a fuckin' bitch. Hes so fuckin' stupid. With his ugly long hair, stupid ass glasses, and crooked, divorced teeth," Miles growled. Waylon laughed and grabbed chips that were resting beside his computer. 

"So how's you and Billy?" Waylon asked. "Oh, we're still dating. Nothing new. I'm still mad at him for what he did in July," Miles said. "What did he do?" Waylon asked, taking a handful of chips. "You don't remember? He got drunk! Just like his goddamn father!" Miles yelled. "Woah, chill," Waylon half laughed. "No! His father is fucking drunk and he's only going to take after him! Hes already starting! Waylon, I'm actually worried about him," Miles yelled. "Well, I am, too. But it's his life, y'know?" Waylon said. "I know, I know it's his life! But I want to help him take a better turn!" Miles said, voice cracking. "Maybe he just wanted to have fun," Waylon shrugged. "Oh? So you're taking his side?" Miles asked. "Well, not exactly. A little," Waylon whispered. Oh God, what was his supposed to say without ruining their relationship?

"Wow. Waylon Park. Out of all people, you're the only one to say that," "Say what?" "That it's okay!" Miles yelled. "I didn't say that," Waylon said. "Well no. But you implied it," Miles growled. "Okay wait. This isn't about me, it's about you two," Waylon said, struggling to get the topic off of him. "And didn't you get drunk before?" Waylon continued. "Well, once, but, I-I was with family," Miles said. "You mean your uncle?" Waylon corrected. "Yeah, family," "But it was your uncle. Not parents or something," Waylon said. "You know what? I'm done talking! You can take Billy's side, I don't care !" Miles yelled, ending the call.

Waylon stared at the blueness of the screen. He sighed loudly. What a fuckin' day. He thought.


A week passed, and Miles was still mad at Billy and Waylon. Billy was so worried he would lose his love. But Waylon told him not to worry and it will all blow over. Billy tried to believe it, but he couldn't.

One day, during science class, when Mr. Trager was being a lazy teacher, Billy and Waylon talked. 

"I'm sorry about Miles. I've known him since 6th grade. He always does this," Waylon said. "Does what?" Billy asked. "He gets mad about the silliest of things. I mean getting drunk isn't silly or anything but he.... overreacts," Waylon said slowly, careful with his word choice. Billy slowly nodded. "You wanna hang out tonight?" Billy asked. He really needed to get away from his problems. But he knew he couldn't do it alone. "Sure! Who's house and what are we gonna do?" Waylon asked. "Well, mine, of course. And I thought we could just talk and hang out together," Billy smiled. "Sure! Why not?" Waylon smiled back.

Later that day, Waylon knocked on Billy's door.

Billy answered, bright eyed and smiling. "Come in!" Billy laughed. Waylon nodded and walked in slowly. It smelled a little funny... His eyes widen as Billy hugged him tightly. "You smell really good," Billy laughed. "Um, thanks? Billy, um, are you okay?" Waylon asked. "Perfect! Amazing! Drunk," Billy laughed loud. Waylon now recognized the smell. Beer and wine.

"Billy, you gotta go to sleep. Miles will not be happy if you're drunk," Waylon said sternly. "Oh shut up mom!" Billy laughed. He walked over to the kitchen. Waylon quickly followed. Billy threw him a can of beer. "Drink up!" Billy said, chugging down his own can of beer. Waylon looked down at the beer. He couldn't drink. But he wanted to so badly. He slowly opened it, the sweet smell traveling up to his nose. He smiled slightly, looking over at Billy, who was watching him. "You gonna drink that?" Billy asked. "Um," Was all Waylon could say.

He took a deep breath, than chugged down the beer. The bitter sweet taste burning his throat. He loved it but also hated it. He smiled up at Billy once he finished the beer. "Another one!" He screamed happily. Billy giggled, tossing the beer to Waylon. 

About two hours passed. They had gotten so drunk, every word they spoke was slurred. At 8 PM, Billy received a phone call. "Hello?" Billy giggled. "Billy?" Miles asked. "Yeah?" Billy asked, trying to be normal. "Look, I just wanted to apologize for overreacting and shit. I was stupid," Miles said. "Oh, well," Billy burped. "It's fine!" He continued. "Billy?" Miles asked. "Yeah?" Billy giggled. "Are.... Are you drunk?" Miles asked. "Mhmm Yup! With Waylon, too!" He giggled. Waylon's eyes widen as he dropped his beer. He ran over to Billy, grabbing the phone. "Hey Miles!" Waylon tried not to sound drunk. "Waylon!?" Miles screamed. "No, no, we're not drunk! We're totally fine," Waylon said. He had thought he sounded fine. But Miles could obviously detect the drunkenness.

"You two are fucking assholes! What the Hell! You're ruining your lives!" Miles screamed, tears coming out intentionally. Waylon stared at a wall. "Um, well, I'm gonna go," Waylon whispered. "Fuck you!" Miles screamed with another voice crack. He hung up, throwing the phone to the floor. Waylon slowly turned over at Billy, who was sitting on the floor. "What happened?" Billy asked. "He said that he loves you dearly. Um, I'm gonna go home," Waylon said slowly. "You need a ride? 'Cause I'll give you one," Billy smiled. "No, no, no I'm fine," Waylon laughed. 

It was hard finding his way home while being drunk. After twenty minutes of wandering around, he found his house. "Where have you been?!" Anna yelled as soon as he walked in. "Up your anus," Waylon whispered, very annoyed. "Excuse me!?" Anna screamed. "I meant Billy's house!"Waylon screamed, scared now. Even though he was little taller and stronger than Anna, she was still a very scary woman. He had a lot of respect for his father.

"That's what I thought. Get up there," Anna growled. Waylon obeyed, taking a shower and going to sleep. He couldn't get what Miles said out of his drunk mind. Were they ruining their lives? Waylon was always a smart kid. Barely got in trouble and always did as he was told. Lately that changed. He still did his homework but he hasn't been listening. He felt different. He felt like he was in someone else's body.

The next day at lunch, Miles was the first at the lunch table. Billy and Waylon awkwardly sat down, squinting at the bright light and loud noise. They were totally hung over.

"You fuckers are ruining your life," Miles growled. "Miles, no we're not. We're having fucking fun," Billy growled back. "No! We have to wait to get drunk. It's not legal," Miles said. "What has gotten into you? Usually your the one pushing us to do stuff. Like smoke," Billy said, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, I changed," Miles whispered. Waylon watched them fight and talk. His attention turned to the giant walking through the door. Eddie. He looked more bruised up than usual. 

Eddie grabbed his lunch, than walked back out. Before he left, he made eye contact with Waylon again. This time he kept staring back until he left the room. Waylon's heart fluttered and his face grew hot. 

"Well? Waylon? What is it gonna be?" Miles asked, snapping Waylon out of lala land. "Huh?" Waylon asked. "Were you not listening? Are you going to town with Billy tonight or staying at home, Skyping with me?" Miles growled. Waylon swallowed hard as the two pairs of green eyes stared him down. 

"I-I guess Billy?" Waylon said unsure. "Fine. Fuck you two. Fuck your lives. Fuck your family. And fuck everything you love," Miles said, grabbing his lunch, standing up, and walking out. 


Chapter Text

After school, Billy and Waylon walked around the school, waiting for Anna. 

"Do you think you guys are gonna break up?" Waylon asked. "N-No. Well, I hope not. We usually fight, but this is the worst fight we've had yet. Waylon, I really want to thank you for taking my side," Billy smiled. "No problem," Waylon smiled back, looking up at the somewhat taller boy. Billy was  5'11, only two more inches taller than Waylon. He always acted so much taller. But when Miles was around, they were both short. Miles being 6'1, and only getting taller. Waylon had always had a thing for tall men. That's why Eddie was perfect. He was probably around 6'3.

"So who do you like?" Billy asked, feeling like he was in 6th grade. "Me? Oh, no one," Waylon laughed slightly. He was totally lying. "C'mon. There has to be someone!" Billy laughed. "There is someone. But they don't like me back," "How do you know?" Billy asked. "I don't," Waylon said. "Who is it?" Billy asked. "You're gonna laugh," Waylon said. "No, I won't," Billy somewhat promised. "Fine...Eddie...Gluskin? I think that's his last name," Waylon whispered. "Eddie Gluskin!?" Billy said loud. Waylon reached his hand up, covering Billy's mouth. "Shut up! " He growled. 

Billy slowly nodded. Waylon moved his hand away, wiping it on his jeans. "Eddie is psycho!  I was his lab partner once last year and he did nothing!  I tried talking and being nice but holy fuck hes stupid," Billy laughed. "Oh shut up," Waylon rolled his eyes. They turned their heads to the front door being opened. It was Eddie. "Say hi," Billy whispered. Waylon's heart freaked out. "Um. Hi! " He half screamed. Eddie looked over at Waylon, raising an eyebrow. "Um, hi," Eddie awkwardly said, giving a tiny wave. Waylon watched as Eddie walked off. He turned to Billy.

"That didn't work," Waylon said. "I know. You're so stupid," Billy smiled. 


At around 11PM, Waylon and Billy put on their shoes, smiling and laughing. "We're taking your mom's car?" Billy asked. "Yeah. I'll be right back and get beer," Waylon smiled. His parents were so clueless, thinking him and Billy were going to have a sleepover and play games. Sometimes Waylon thinks they forget hes 17 and not 11. He grabbed the case of beer bottles and walked back over to Billy. 

Waylon slowly closed the door, locking it. He started up the Jeep and placed the beer in the back seat. Billy got into the passenger side, blasting music and smiling. "I've never done this before! " He laughed. "Me neither," Waylon said nervously. Billy's laughing faded away. 

They drove over to town. They parked and walked around, getting drunk. "Oh no! Miles will disapprove!" Billy said mockingly. "Oh no! We're ruining our lives!" Waylon laughed loud. "Y'know he told me were gonna be homeless one day and we'll work at McDonald's," Billy said. "Aw, he really cares for you," Waylon giggled. "Barely," Billy laughed. 

"I'm bored now," Waylon sighed, taking a big sip. "Woah, we're outside, 17 and drinking, and no one has caught us yet," Billy said slowly. "WOAHH!" Waylon mocked. They both laughed and giggled at the mocking. "Miles thinks we're going to be stolen or something," Billy rolled his eyes. "What the fuck? We're two, pretty strong men. I'm pretty sure we can fight off two other men," Waylon laughed. "Right? That's what I said!" Billy yelled. "Let's prove him wrong," Waylon smiled. "How?' Billy raised an eyebrow. "I have no clue," Waylon said.

They walked all around until they reached a small neighborhood. They walked in an alley that had bright lights. "Oh no! We're going to be stolen in a dark, scary alley!" Billy laughed. "It's so dark!" Waylon half screamed. They laughed and walked down the bright alley. While Billy laughed, Waylon heard a van. Someone is probably doing the same thing as us! He thought and smirked.

They kept stopping the alley, taking a 'break' of walking. It took them five minutes until they reached the middle of the long alley. They turned around when they heard a van. They saw a white van stopped at the end of the alley. "Oh no!" Billy screamed on the top of his lungs. Waylon laughed hard, falling over. Billy slowly helped him up. "Thanks bro," Waylon said with a deep voice, laughing again. 

He stopped laughing as he felt arms wrap around him, lifting him. Waylon screamed in terror and happiness. He wasn't sure if it was Billy or not. He looked down at the hands that wrapped around him. Those were not Billy's hands. Waylon turned his head over to Billy for help, but found him struggling in some other man's arms.

"HELP!" Waylon screamed. He kicked the man behind him and was dropped to the floor. He grunted in pain and started to crawl away. The man grabbed his torso, yanking him back and twisting him over. Waylon screamed. He looked over at Billy, who was fighting off the other man. Waylon kicked the man's stomach, standing back up. He felt a fist hit his face hard. He screamed in pain as he fell back to the floor. 

Everything swirled and twirled. He looked over at Billy again. He was kicked in the balls. "P-Please," Waylon whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. The man above him laughed, his foot going over Waylon's face, hard. Waylon passed out in pain.


Waylon slowly opened his eyes in a dark room. There was a light, but it was barely shined. He rubbed his sore face. Where was he? What happened? Who were those men?

Waylon closed his eyes when he heard a door open. It must of been his door because a hand touched Waylon's waist. "So beautiful," Someone whispered. Waylon opened his eyes quick, looking over at the man. "Oh, did I awake you?" The man smiled. The man had bright blue eyes, black long hair, crooked teeth, a white button up shirt, a bright red tie, and some nude color khakis. "Um," Waylon said. "Oh darling, speechless I see? I like a woman like that," The man said. "Woman?" Waylon's eyes widen. Well, he did have dark blonde hair that reached his earlobes, brown eyes that didn't look manly, soft hands, skinny, and not that much muscles. He could understand, but it still shocked him. "My apology. I meant soon a woman. Right now, you're a little messed up," The man laughed.

"Where am I?" Waylon asked sternly. "I don't need the attitude. Now get up, I'm measuring you," The man grabbed Waylon's arm. He forced him up. Waylon fell to his knees and hands. "My love!" The man said concerned, helping Waylon up. Waylon knocked his rough hands off. "I'm fine!" He growled. The man slightly nodded, than grabbed out measuring tape. He wrapped it around Waylon's waist and looked at the numbers. "You're a tiny little thing, aye? All the other whores before you were huge," The man growled. "Um, why are you measuring me?" Waylon swallowed hard. This man was crazy and huge. He was at least 6'5. What was he talking about whores before him? And soon to be woman? Why was he messed up?

"Oh, well your wedding dress of course! My dear, we're getting married," The man smiled. He finished measuring Waylon and headed to the door. "I'll bring some food," He smiled and quickly walked out and closed the door. He came back a minute later with a small bag of peanuts. "Don't eat too much!" He laughed as he handed Waylon the peanuts. Before he walked out, Waylon spoke up. "Isn't it a woman's right to know her groom's name and age?" He asked with a shaky voice. 

Waylon knew this man was sick in the head and would hit him any time. All he had to do was keep up the act of sweet, young bride until he could get out and report his ass. He just needed to know his name and everything about him. "Oh yes! My name is Michael Gluskin! I'm 43. And you are...?" Michael asked. "I'm Waylon Park. 17," Waylon cautiously said. "So young and full of wonder! Beautiful!" Michael smiled and walked out, locking the door.

Gluskin!? Is that his dad or uncle or brother? Well, he said he was 43. Are they even related? They must be because Gluskin is not a common name. How am I getting out of here? Will Eddie help me? Is he even here? Does he know about Michael? Is he going to hurt me too? Waylon thought.

He slowly started to eat the stale peanuts. They were rough inside his mouth but at least he was given food. He finished up the small bag of peanuts in a matter of minutes. He smirked slightly. He threw the bag on the floor, laying back on the bed with a heavy sigh. He stared up at the ceiling and tears started to fill his eyes, blurring his vision. I'm going to die here. 

He wiped away the tears. "Stop crying," He whispered to himself, trying to calm down. He did another heavy sigh, as if all the weight on his chest would come off. His anxiety kicked up when he started to think of Billy. Was Billy a whore? Or was he with that other man? Waylon turned to his side to face the wall. He shut his eyes tight, tears still escaping. 


"Oh Darling," Michael purred as he slightly shook Waylon's shoulder. "Mhmm?" Waylon hummed as he slowly opened his eyes. "I have something exciting for you!" Michael exclaimed. "W-What is it?" Waylon asked, sitting up on his elbows. Michael bit his lower lip to keep from smiling. It obviously didn't work. 

Michael grabbed Waylon's arm,yanking him off the bed. He landed hard on his hands and stomach. He groaned in pain. "Oh my love. So clumsy," Michael smiled. "Fuck you..." Waylon mumbled under his breath as he stood. "What was that?" "Um, love you," Waylon weakly smiled. "O-oh! Right," Michael slightly laughed. 

Michael grabbed Waylon's wrist hard. Waylon knew it would leave bruises.


Chapter Text

Waylon's mouth dropped slightly as he saw the sight before him. It was a wedding dress. Waylon was amazed at how beautiful it looked, besides the stitches all over. It had sleeves that cut at the elbow, a lacy long bottom, and tight around the curves. The dress was obviously for a muscular woman. Which was how Waylon looked. 

"Like it dear?" Michael smiled, moving his hand up to Waylon's slumped shoulder. "It's..." Waylon's words faded. "Beautiful?" Michael finished for him. If Waylon wasn't so shocked at how beautiful it looked, he would of said something or ran away. 

Move! Run away!

No! Don't upset the bastard.

Waylon swallowed hard and left his legs in place. "Y-Yes. Beautiful," Waylon slightly smiled. "Now, I didn't make this dress. I know this...boy, who makes dresses. He's quite good, don't you think?" Michael asked. Waylon nodded slowly. "If you don't like it, I can always teach the whore a lesson," Michael gripped Waylon's shoulders tightly.

He knew what lesson meant. Whoever made the dress would get a nice beating. "It's beautiful," Waylon whispered. "Great! Let's get you inside the dress," Michael smiled.

Michael walked over to the dress, carefully taking it off the mannequin. Waylon's mind punished himself for not running off. Once Michael got the dress off, he turned to Waylon. "C'mon love, take off your dirty clothes," Michael said. Waylon stared at him. He wanted to see him naked? Oh hell no.

"No," Waylon simply said. "Excuse me?" Michael snarled. Waylon could see the rage building up inside of Michael. Waylon made something up, something he was really good at.

"U-Uhm, I don't think it's appropriate for the Groom to see his bride naked b-before," Waylon spit out. Michael stared in Waylon's eyes for a moment. Waylon could feel sweat build up in his pores and spill out. Michael's harsh staring turned into a bright,playful smile. "Of course! I forgot you are still so pure and young. Don't worry, I won't look," Michael laughed slightly. 

Michael carefully gave Waylon the dress and turned around. Waylon stared at the dress in his hands. How was he supposed to get this thing on? Head first or feet? 

Some seconds passed until he found a zipper. Duh.

He put his feet in, than over his thighs, passed his stomach, all the way to his shoulders. He sighed hard. "Michael, could you...zipper it?" Waylon carefully asked. Michael turned around and smiled. Waylon slowly and carefully turned around. He knew what this man would do? He felt the dress get tighter as Michael zipped it up. "Turn around dear," Michael said when he finished.

Waylon turned around and watched Michael's face as lit up. "Gorgeous! Beautiful! Amazing! My love," Michael said. Waylon slightly smiled. He felt disgusting to be in the dress. If the situation was different, he would love this dress. But this crazed man forced it on to him. 

Michael walked towards a mirror. "Over here princess," Michael said. Waylon didn't walk far until he fell on the hard wooden floor, ripping the bottom of the dress. Michael immediately noticed the tear, rage filling him. "You slut!" He screamed. Waylon looked up, seeing Michael walk towards him.

Waylon quickly got to his knees, only to be punched back down. He fell on his back, in a very awkward position. He felt blood from his nose touch his lips. "Filthy whore! How dare you!?" Michael screamed. Waylon winced at the ringing in his ears from the screaming. 

Michael kicked Waylon's shins, causing Waylon to scream in deep pain. He felt it shoot through him. 

Before Michael could grab Waylon, Waylon quickly got up and ran out the door. He could feel his shin burn in pain. He could hear Michael running somewhere, but it wasn't behind him. 

Waylon continued to run until he bumped into a wall. He looked up to find out it wasn't a wall...

It was Michael.


"My dear, don't run," Michael said with sorrow in his eyes. He reached his hand out for Waylon to grab. Waylon flinched at the hand. "C'mon, don't be afraid," Michael smiled with his crooked teeth. Waylon slowly grabbed Michael's strong, hard hand. 

Michael helped Waylon to his feet as if he were nothing. Waylon whimpered in pain as he stood on his shin. "Are you alright?" Michael asked. Waylon nodded and shut his eyes tightly. He felt the pain and weight disappear as he lifted by Michael.

"I won't let you walk in pain," Michael purred. He rubbed Waylon's thigh. Waylon was over Michael's strong shoulder. He looked down and saw the blood from his nose drip down on the dirty white shirt. 

He looked up when he heard screaming.

He heard doors bang and open and close. 

He heard feet hit floors,only to be stopped. 

A little faith built up in him when he realized he was not alone.


Waylon stared at the blank, white wall. He thought of things that barely registered in his brain. He was still so shocked on how he was stolen. And how Miles was right.

He sighed heavily and got up. He walked towards a door that he hasn't opened yet since all he did was sleep. He placed his hand on the cold door knob and slightly turned it. It was unlocked. He took a deep breath, opening the door.

It was a bathroom.

Just a dirty, rusty sink; a cracked, dusty mirror; and an old toilet. Waylon slightly smiled when he realized he could finally release his bladder. 

He quickly took a piss, and with the leftover dignity he had, he washed his hands. As he walked out the bathroom, he heard screams. After ten seconds, the screams slowly faded. Waylon felt dizzy and sick, but swallowed the puke in his throat. 

Waylon lied on top of his blankets and closed his eyes. He felt crying because some part of him knew he was going to die. He wanted to believe he would make it out, but that was only in the movies. In reality, death was real and scary. 

He shot up when he heard the door open. "Hello beautiful, I bet someone's hungry!" Michael smiled, as usual. Waylon simply stared at him.

"I brought some cereal," Michael said, handing Waylon a small bowl of dry Cheerios. He than gave a small water bottle after. "I want to keep you well-nourish for the wedding!" Michael chuckled. Waylon ignored the wedding comment and quickly ate the Cheerios. He smiled slightly when he tasted the sweet honey taste. Michael noticed the small smile.

"Oh my dear, I'm glad you're excited for wedding! As am I!" Michael said, squeezing Waylon's cheek with his thumb and pointer finger. Waylon, with all his might, smiled at the man. He knew if he didn't, he would be taught a "lesson" as Michael likes to put it. 

After Waylon finished his cereal and water, Michael kissed his head and turned off the light. "Get some sleep," Michael said, walking out. 

Waylon stared at the floor before he covered himself up with the blankets. He didn't want to obey the bastard, but he was tired. In a weird way, he felt a sense of security in the blankets. 

He slowly drifted off to sleep in the dark room.


Waylon awoke to a bright light hitting his face. A light shined through a crack in the door. It didn't register in his brain until he realized the door was open. He stared at the door for a couple minutes. Was this some joke? 

He got up, pushing the blankets off of him. His bare feet pittered-pattered as he walked towards the wooden door. He heard a strong scream, causing him to flinch. 

He opened the door wider and heard another scream and some talking. 

"HELP! PLEASE! STOP!" The screams continued.

Waylon's heart fell to the floor when he realized it was Billy. 


Chapter Text

Waylon flew the door wide open. He started to run towards the cries of help. "No...No...No..." Waylon kept whispering to himself. He tripped about four times until he reached the hall where the cries were the loudest. 

"HELP!" Waylon heard someone scream. 

Waylon reached a door and heard a sharp scream. Than all he could hear was ringing in his ear. He ignored it, than looked in the tiny window on the door. He saw Michael and a man, hovering over a bed. He saw long, white but bloody legs at the bottom of the bed. Waylon swallowed hard. 

He saw Billy's face as the other man moved. 

What were they doing?

Michael turned around, making eye contact with Waylon. Waylon's mouth opened. Michael started to walk towards the door. Waylon wanted to run, but his feet stayed in place. The man turned around, looking at Waylon. Billy looked calm for a quick second. Waylon could tell they were trying to get a dress on him. 

"Waylon, my sweetheart," Michael smiled. He opened the door slightly. Waylon's eyes were wide. Michael wasn't hitting him...

"Uhm, hi... Dear," Waylon weakly smiled. "What are you doing out of your room?" Michael asked. "What are you doing with another woman?" Waylon asked. He bit down on his cheek. 

Did I REALLY just say that?!

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" He asked. Before Waylon could answer, a hand went on Michael's shoulder. "She won't stop, but I got the dress on," The man said. "She must be rotten," Michael said. "Yeah. Why did you get the pure one?" The man asked. Michael shrugged, than smirked, looking over at Waylon. Waylon felt his cheeks get hot. 

Am I blushing!?

Waylon stared up at Michael. His attention was drawn to the man, who fell backwards due to Billy on his back. The man landed on top of Billy. Billy pulled and yanked his hair. "FUCKING SLUT!" The man screamed. "Billy!" Waylon yelled, sounding like he was about to cry. Michael looked over at Waylon, than ran to the 'slut'.

Michael meant to kick Billy's side, but accidentally kicked the man's side. "FUCKER!" The man cried out in pain. Waylon flinched at the screaming. Billy started to scratch the man's face, blood spilling, screaming getting louder. Michael pushed the man off, grabbing Billy's arm. "WHORE!" He screamed. Billy bit his fingers, which really didn't do anything. Than he yanked his wrist out of the hard grip. 

Billy noticed Waylon as soon as he stood. He ran towards him, grabbing his wrist and yanking him away. Billy ran fast, Waylon barely caught up. He almost tripped dozens of times, but he couldn't. Billy had a death grip on his wrist, making sure he didn't fall. 

They ran up some stairs. "Wouldn't the exit be down stairs?!" Waylon yelled. "Shit!" Billy yelled. 

When Waylon could hear some footsteps behind them, he pushed Billy into an open door room. Billy fell right to his ass. Waylon shut the door hard, locking it. He turned to Billy. "Look at me!" Waylon yelled, even though Billy was looking at him. It was a little hard to tell in the dark. "We could of escaped!" Billy yelled. "Sh!" Waylon said, holding his hand up to Billy's face. He could hear their walking. 

When everything seemed quiet, Waylon continued to talk. "They are dangerous men. You know that. If we tried escaping, and they caught us, we would be dead," "Were dying anyways," Billy said. "Shut up. These men are crazy and they're in their own little world. Just play the role of a good wife. Got it?" Waylon said. "Bu-" "Got it?" "Yeah..." Billy faded off. "As much as I hate to say it, but Miles was right. That damn little bastard," Waylon growled. 

"I know... What are we going to tell our 'husbands'," Billy asked. "You felt sick, I don't know. Just make something up. The more believable, the softer the beating will be," Waylon whispered. Billy slowly nodded. A tear rolled down. "W-Waylon, I'm scared," "Shh.... They smell fear. Show him you're stronger. Somehow," Waylon said. 

Billy nodded quickly. "We have to promise each other we'll back it out... together..." Billy said. Waylon stared at him. He couldn't promise something he knew wasn't true. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Y-yeah....I promise...." He whispered. Billy stood up, than hugged Waylon. He cried hard. "Together..." He whispered.



Waylon and Billy returned to their rooms. Billy was beat by his 'husband', but just a couple slaps and pulls. 

Waylon was beat by Michael. A punch, a couple slaps, and a kick. 

"I'm sorry....I love you...." Waylon said at the end of the beating, lying down on the cold floor. "It's okay my dear. Just don't do it again," Michael smiled, than walked out the door. Waylon stared at the door, crying. His cheek rested on the cold floor. It actually felt good. 

He stayed like that until Michael opened the door hours later. "Oh, dear, you're still lying on this filthy floor? You have work to do!" Michael smiled as he helped Waylon up. Waylon was just a rag doll to him. His ear rang while Michael talked until he heard work. Work he had to do.

"Work?" He asked. "Well, you are going to be a wife and a mother soon! You need to get used to work! Now....Darn it! I left the basket downstairs. I'll be right back," Michael said as he kissed Waylon's head, and ran out the door, closing it. Waylon stood there until Michael returned.

"Here's your basket! Now, Love, I want you to go in every room and pick up the whores' dresses and filthy old clothes. Okay? It's your job to pick up the dresses after me!" Michael chuckled, and planted another kiss on Waylon's greasy hair. He handed Waylon the key. 

The key that lead to every room.

"If you plan on escaping, I'll make sure you never see daylight again. Got it?" Michael snapped towards the end. Waylon quickly nodded. "Great," Michael smiled. He grabbed Waylon's small hand, leading him towards the first room. "I'll watch you do the first room," He said. 

Waylon unlocked the door, looking inside it. It smelled putrid. He resisted the urge to vomit all over the damn floor. He slowly walked in the room. He must of been walking really slow because Michael gave him a little push. "C'mon, love. I have to get to work," He growled. Shivers went down Waylon's spine as he picked up the clothes off the bloody floor. 

He put the clothes into the broken basket and turned to Michael. "Good! Think you could do that until...8:25 PM? There are clocks all around so if your not in your room by than, well... it won't be pretty," Michael smiled. Waylon swallowed hard and nodded. "When your basket gets full, put the clothes in that room down the hall," Michael said, than walked away.

Waylon stood in the doorway, looking down at his bare feet. 

Why me?

This is good! Now you can check up on Billy everyday!

Maybe you should watch your back.

He quickly turned around to the man lying on the bed. His dick was completely off. 

I don't think he's going to do anything.

Waylon quickly walked out the room, locking the door. He checked all the doors on the first floor. He sighed as he opened the door at the end of the hall. He threw the clothes on the floor, near a washing machine and drying. 

Why does he need--It's better not to know.

He walked up the stairs, checking all the rooms. Half the rooms didn't have anyone. When he reached one of the last doors, he slowly opened it, exhausted. 

He picked up the clothes and noticed something different. They weren't that bloody. All the clothes he picked up before were caked in blood, and usually the men had their dicks off. Waylon looked up at the bed. The man was sleeping soundly. 

Waylon recognized this man....

Chapter Text

Waylon walked closer to the man. This couldn't be happening. This really couldn't be happening. Waylon blinked hard. It was happening. 

He slowly walked backwards, falling over, and dropping the basket. The man awoke, sitting up quickly. Underneath all the blood and bruises, Waylon knew who it was.

Jeremy Blaire, his principal.

Jeremy stared at Waylon with wide eyes. "W-Waylon Park?" He asked. Waylon sat, speechless. His mouth opened but nothing came out. "Where are we? Why is there a crazed man trying to fit me into a dress!? ....Why are you wearing a dress?" Jeremy asked. "The man i-is Michael Gluskin. He's crazy. He'll chop your balls off! I'm in a dress 'cause....he thinks I'm some kind of woman!" Waylon almost screamed. He was so nervous.

"M-Michael Gluskin?" Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow. Waylon nodded The name sounded so familiar. Gluskin. Eddie Gluskin. The files had Michael Gluskin. "You mean Eddie Gluskin's father?" He asked. "Oh, I don't think that's his dad. J-Just....No," Waylon whispered. Jeremy started to nod. "Yes! Yes! I think it is!" He said. Waylon shook his head. "No," He said. "YES!" Jeremy yelled. "Stop fighting with me! Who cares!?" Waylon said. "I do! I'm gonna kick that kid's ass!" Jeremy snapped. "That doesn't matter now! We're stuck in a stupid ass building with a crazy man! Let's focus on escaping, than you can kick his ass!" Waylon yelled. 

Jeremy stared down, noticing he was naked. He quickly grabbed a blanket, pulling it over his dick. "How are we going to get out?" He asked. "I'm not sure. But this Michael guy trusts me. I have a key to every bedroom. Maybe I can think of something.... And also Billy Hope is here," Waylon said, standing up slowly. "How did Billy get here?" Jeremy asked. "That doesn't matter now. I'll see you later," Waylon said while picking up the clothes and putting them back in the basket.

"You can't just leave me here! Alone!" Jeremy almost screamed. Waylon placed the basket on his hip. "Be a man. And I can't stay here forever! Or else I would get a beating. Like I said, I'll see you later," He snapped, than walked out the room. 

Waylon gently closed the door, taking one last look at Jeremy. Jeremy just stared at the door, looking hopeless as ever. But weren't they all hopeless?

He quickly ran through the other doors, than down the stairs. He dumped the clothes into the dirty pile. Bastard can do the rest himself. Waylon's face scrunched up at just the thought of Michael. 

Waylon closed the door, and stuffed the keys into his dress pocket. It was small, but the keys could fit. 

He returned to his room, only to find Michael, turned around. Waylon's heart dropped. What was Michael doing? Waylon quietly knocked on the door. The light noise made Michael turn around. "Oh! Sweetheart, I found an old music player! Now we can dance," Michael smiled. Michael stood from his crouched position, walking towards Waylon. Waylon saw the old music player plugged into an outlet. Old, quiet music started playing.  

When I was a boy, my mother often said to me, 'get married, boy and see how happy you will be'...

The old music made Waylon's stomach turn. Who could listen to such music? It was too innocent and happy. Than again, the song was probably made around 1910...

Michael grabbed Waylon's bruised wrists, pulling him close to his chest. Waylon felt all his muscles move at one tug. He grunted at the pull. "Sweetheart, making such noises are vulgar. Please be careful," Michael scolded. Waylon rolled his eyes, than was pushed back. His whole body flinched when he thought he was going to fall back, but Michael had a hold of his wrists. Michael brought him back in, kissing his chapped lips. Waylon's eyes widen.

The kiss was disgusting. It didn't feel real. It was too hard and forceful. 

Waylon looked up at Michael, who was singing the taunting song. "I will have to look around, until the right one I have found. I want a girl just like the girl who married dear old dad," He sang in a soft voice. His words carried off and faded away. 

Michael forcefully made Waylon twirl underneath his large arm. He kissed him again. Waylon felt puke ball up his tight throat, but swallowed it down. Michael pulled Waylon into his chest, than back out, than back in. Waylon could smell the blood on his shirt. When Michael pulled him in too hard, some blood got on Waylon's cut lip. He could taste the bitter sweet blood on his tongue. 

When the song was about to end, Michael ended with one last twirl. He pushed Waylon out, but his hands were wet with sweat and blood. Waylon felt their hands slip away from each other. He stumbled back quickly and fell onto the old music player. He heard cracks and shattering noises. He knew that wasn't good. 

Waylon moved from the old music player, onto the ground. It was certainly softer than the broken player. He looked down at his hands, scratched and bloody from the vinyl. He looked up at Michael. He could see veins popping from Michael's forehead and his face red from anger. "Y-You slut!" He screamed. Waylon felt the loud ringing in his ear. 

He moved back when Michael started to walk towards him. "P-Please!" He pleaded with tears. He moved back until he felt the cold wall touch his bare back. The back of the dress was ripped, causing his back to show. 

"You don't deserve to be anyone's wife or mother!" Michael screamed with intense anger. When his hand went down to grab Waylon's greasy hair, Waylon screamed. The scream was dry but loud. Waylon didn't scream on purpose. Just screaming because he knew someone could help. But Waylon knew that help wouldn't come. Michael's hand went back. He stared hard at Waylon. 

Waylon's breathing picked up. His chest fell up and down quicker than usual. His knees went up to his chin. He held onto the ends of his hair. It barely reached his bruised shoulders. "How dare you scream," Michael growled. Waylon's body shook when he heard Michael's deep voice. "I-I'm sorry," He stuttered. 

Michael continued to stare him down. He was afraid if he moved an inch, Michael would freak. Michael cracked his large neck. He looked over at the old music player. "We all make mistakes. Now clean this up," He growled. He walked out the room, shutting the door. 

Waylon felt warm tears run down his cheeks. He whimpered loud. He stuffed his face in his knees, crying loud. "Please forgive me, God. Please. Please. Please..." 

-Next day-

Waylon walked up the stairs with sore legs from dancing so roughly. He dropped the heavy basket of clothes. The clothes scattered around him. "Mother--" He didn't want to continue, afraid Michael was listening somewhere.

As he picked up the bloody dresses, he could hear footsteps behind him. The hairs on his light skin prickled. "Shit. Shit. Shit," He whispered to himself. He knew it would be Michael.

Quiet whistles filled the stair case and halls. Waylon heard the footsteps getting closer until they stopped. He felt a bead of sweat fall of his forehead. 

A large hand touched his ass. It smoothed over slowly. Waylon could hear a smirk form on the person's lips. He stood up quickly, turned around. It was the other man from before. Billy's 'husband'.

"Hey there, sweet thing," The man said, twirling Waylon's hair. Waylon pushed his hand away. "Woah, no need to get upset," The man smiled. "Fuck you," Waylon slipped. His eyes widen. The man raised an eyebrow. "Mhmm? Michael won't be happy when he finds out about this," He said. 

Waylon slowly moved back to the step behind him. The man just got closer. "Darlin', don't leave," He smirked. "St-Stop," Waylon whispered. The man chuckled. He got closer, grabbing Waylon's weak wrist. He forcefully pulled him to the floor. Waylon screamed in pain. 

Waylon tried crawling away, but the man pressed his head down with his large boot. He pressed hard into Waylon's soft cheek. Waylon screamed in more pain. "MICHAEL!" He screamed. He felt like that was his only hope. 

"Need your man to defend for yourself? Little slut," The man growled, digging harder into Waylon. Waylon tried moving the large foot, but ended up being kicked in the face. 

He looked up at the man, seeing his vision fade. The last thing he saw was the bastard smiling.


Waylon awoke from a large hand going over his bruised forehead. He groaned quietly. "I know, dear, it hurts. Just keep resting. I'll go get the boy," Michael soothingly said. Waylon eyes opened and closed. The light hurt his bloodshot eyes. 

He heard a door open, and quiet whispers. Someone walked to Waylon, feeling his face. Waylon flinched in pain. "P-Please," he whispered. The hand smoothed over his face. It was smaller than Michael's hand. It was softer. 

Who was it?

Waylon slowly opened his eyes, seeing the figure look over his body. Good God, he was naked. Only a blanket covered his penis. The figure looked familiar. The figure looked at Waylon. He slightly smiled. Waylon tried smiling back. 

"Don't you dare smile at her," Michael growled. "It's not a her," The figure snapped back. "Well, I'm not giving her surgery. The others died before I could even marry them," Michael said. He walked up to the figure, slapping his face. "Fuck you," The figure growled. "Don't sass me, boy," Michael said, slapping the figure again. 

Waylon tried detecting who the figure was, but it was too hard. The figure looked straight into Waylon's bloodshot eyes. "Turn off the lights. It's hurting his--her eyes," The figure said to Michael. Michael actually obeyed, and turned off the lights. The darkness soothed Waylon's eyes. He smiled slightly. "Okay, now get out. You can check her tomorrow," Michael said. 

Michael walked to the door, waiting for the figure. The figure headed for the door, but Waylon lightly touched his hand. The figure turned back. "Help me," He whispered. The figure stared at Waylon. Waylon couldn't see his facial expression, but he hoped he had tears in his eyes. The figure got close to Waylon's ear. "I'm sorry," The figure's voice cracked. 

"Ed! Hurry up!" Michael yelled. The figure gave a quick kiss on Waylon's head, making sure Michael couldn't see. He ran out the door. Michael walked out and shut the door, leaving Waylon alone. 

The kiss remained on Waylon's aching head. He smiled. The kiss felt real and sweet. It was nothing like Michael's. He stared up at the ceiling. His face and head ached. His body shivered underneath the cold air. He brought the blanket up, covering his skin. 

About a week later, Michael opened the door. "Honey?" He asked, seeing if Waylon was awake. He had been asleep for a week. He never ate food, either. Michael tried giving him food, but Waylon always looked too weak, refused, or was asleep. His face was slowly getting better. It was still bruised and bloody, but better from the first time he saw him.

Michael could remember the same emptiness in his stomach when he saw Waylon lying on the floor. He regretted at how he walked to his sweetie's cry for help. He had a stern talk with Daniel (Talk as in fighting). Luckily, he won. Daniel was crying in pain on the floor. It took a couple minutes, but he finally beat his older brother down.

Michael remembered seeing Waylon's face. His nose and mouth were bleeding and spilling all over the concrete floor. His eyes were puffy, the sides of his face were black and blue and some yellow, a three of his teeth on the floor. They looked like molars, though. He could feel the tears on his cheeks and the extreme wetness in his eyes. He could still hear Waylon's quiet whispers that made no sense to him. He could still feel the anger and sadness mix inside his brain and heart. 

He had never cried over one of his brides. But when he cried over Waylon, he knew she was the one. She was feminine and sweet. She never meant to break the old music player and rip the dress. Michael just had to be more careful around her. 

He slowly walked up to Waylon, feeling his forehead. Waylon's eyes opened, looking a lot less bloodshot. But bruises still surrounded his eyes. "Good morning," Michael smiled. "Hi," Waylon said. It was the first time that it wasn't a whisper. Michael smiled, taking that as a good sign. His heart pounded as he got down on his knee.

"My love. I have a very important question to ask you," He said. His eyes glimmered. "Yes?" Waylon said with a rough voice. Michael grabbed something from his pocket. He held a ring up to Waylon's face.

"Will you marry me?" He asked. Waylon knew he had to say yes. Or else he would be killed. Or worse, beaten. Waylon would rather be killed than suffer pain. "Yes!" He said with fake excitement. 

Michael smiled widely. He slowly reached over, kissing Waylon's cut lips. Waylon tried not to gag. "Great! The wedding will be in two days! Or, until you heal," Michael said, voice slowly fading. He looked so sad from Waylon's bruised eyes. He knew he had done bad things but Waylon couldn't see him like that. His heart was too big. 

"I think I'm fine enough for a wedding," He whispered. "Really? Are you sure?" Michael asked. Waylon smiled and nodded. "Oh! You are so strong, sweetheart!" Michael planted another kiss on Waylon's lips. 

"Do you want to invite anyone?" Michael asked. "Oh..." Waylon said. He didn't think he would be asked that. The first person that came to mind was Billy. Than Jeremy. "Y-Yes," He said. "Okay, who?" Michael asked. "Uhm, Billy...That man's wife," He tried saying. It sounded too weird coming from his mouth. "The man is my brother, Daniel. And he will never hurt you again," Michael growled, thinking of Daniel. 

Waylon nodded slowly. "A-And that man upstairs. J-Jeremy. He has black hair," He said. He wasn't sure if Michael knew his name. Michael nodded. "I know who you're talking about," he said. "Yeah. He's really nice," Waylon said, thinking Michael would be nicer to Jeremy. 

 "Okay. Anyone else?" Michael asked. "No," Waylon answered. 

"Great! I already have a dress picked out! Now, I'll go get your food," Michael said. 

Chapter Text

"Honey! I have your dress!" Michael said, barging in the room. It hadn't even been two days since he proposed, and he already finished the dress. By the dark circles and bags underneath his eyes, Waylon could tell he hadn't slept. He had be more careful around the tired psychopath.

Waylon weakly got onto his elbows. "Oh really?" He asked, slightly smiling. "Yup! Think you could get up?" Michael asked. Waylon nodded, and quickly stood up. Just standing made his face ache. Michael held the dress up against Waylon's chest. Waylon raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. "Do you want me t-to try it on?" He asked carefully. "No, sweetheart. It's a tradition where the Groom doesn't see the Bride wearing the dress until the ceremony," Michael said, comparing the dress size to Waylon's size. 

"Looks like it'll fit. Just try not to gain weight," Michael said. Waylon felt oddly hurt by that comment. "Uhm, okay..." He whispered. Michael walked over to a small table. He carefully put the dress down. "Now, sweetheart, don't wear the dress until the ceremony. Okay?" He smiled. "Okay. W-When is the ceremony?" Waylon asked. "In two days," Michael held up two fingers. He kissed Waylon's head gently. "Go clean up the rooms. They're getting so dirty," He said, than walked out the room. 

Waylon stared at the dress. he couldn't believe he was getting married to a psychopath. Boy, he couldn't wait for what the wedding was going to look like. 

He walked over to the laundry room, picking up the basket. He quickly went through the rooms so he could go see Jeremy and Billy. He could of just ran to their rooms first thing, but he would receive a good beating. 

When he finished the rooms he was supposed be in, he ran upstairs. He saw blood, which was probably from Daniel beating him. He quickly walked to Jeremy's room. 

Jeremy shot up when he saw Waylon. "Waylon! Where were you!? I thought you were dead!" He said, standing up. He was wearing a torn wedding dress. Waylon smiled. He was shocked that Jeremy actually cared for him. "I got hurt by the other man. Daniel or something," He said. "Yeah, I can tell. Your face looks fucked up. And it is Daniel. That's my....'husband'," Jeremy said, ashamed of saying the psychopath was his husband

"Well, thank you for saying something I already know about my face. It hurts like Hell. By the way, I'm gettin' married," Waylon said, as if someone would normally say this. "What?" Jeremy asked. "I'm getting married. To Michael, the other guy. You're invited and so is Billy," Waylon said. "What the Hell? Why are you acting as if it's an actual wedding?" Jeremy growled. "I'm so used this shit that's why," Waylon shrugged. 

Jeremy's eyebrows knitted. "Okay....when is the wedding? Maybe we can all escape!" he smiled. "The wedding is two days. And how will we escape? That's impossible," Waylon said. "Hey! Nothing is impossible!" Jeremy snapped. "Wow, quoting a school poster. Nice," Waylon said with annoyance. "Shut up. We can escape this Hell hole. I am not dying in this place. Even if we die, we still won't escape it. That's why we gotta do it while we're alive," Jeremy said.

What Jeremy said actually made Waylon inspired to leave. Of course, he always wanted to leave, but something burned in him that was dying to leave. "So, what's your plan on leaving?" He asked. "Well...I made a little somethin'," Jeremy smiled deviously. 

Jeremy walked over to the bed and looked under it. It was a sharp piece of wood. "Stab the asshole while you're kissing him," He said. "How will I get that past him without him noticing?" Waylon asked. Jeremy's smile faded. Waylon was right...

"I-I don't know...But we can try. Anyways, while you stab him, we both run off to the front door," He said. "Okay. 1., what about Daniel? 2., where's the front door?" Waylon said. "Damn, you really don't want to escape," Jeremy said. "I do! But I want to prepared and not killed!" Waylon snapped. "Okay, relax. I guess we'll just run away from Daniel. And the door is somewhere downstairs, behind another door. I remember seeing a little bit of it while they took me in here," Jeremy said.

Waylon smiled. "Sounds good. What 'bout Billy?" He asked. "Tell him while you're doing the clothes," Jeremy smiled. He felt ready to escape. He handed the wood to Waylon. "Keep it until the day, got it?" He sternly said. "Yup," Waylon smiled, picking up the clothes and heading out the door.

He finished the rest of the floor and headed down the stairs. He dumped the clothes in the laundry room. His heart was pounding. He had to go somewhere where he wasn't allowed. Towards Billy's room.

He carefully walked down the hall, trying not to be loud. He could hear distant screams and feet running around. 

He could feel he was close. The hallway looked familiar. He held the piece of wood close to his chest, ready to use it. When he reached Billy's door, it had bloody hand prints all over. His stomach was in his throat. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God....

He carefully reached for the door handle until a hand touch his hip. "Sweetheart?" Michael asked. Waylon quickly turned around, hiding the wood behind his back. "Oh...I-I was just..." He couldn't think of a good enough lie.;"What are you doing here?" Michael asked. "I was....Uh... looking for you!" Waylon smiled. Michael's hand rested on Waylon's hip. "Oh really?" He smirked. His hand moved back and forth. 

Waylon nodded quickly. Michael reached down, kissing him hard. Waylon let it happened, afraid of being hurt if he rejected. Michael pulled Waylon up, kissing him harder. He forced his tongue in. Waylon's tongue slightly touched Michael's, but Michael wanted more. 

Michael moaned quietly. "Oh..." He whispered in Waylon's mouth. Waylon pushed away when the moan was nails scratching chalkboard to his ears. Michael looked furious. "I-I wanted to save it for the wedding day," Waylon weakly said. Michael's facial expression, which was anger, was released. "So pure," He purred. Waylon nodded quickly. "Yup..." He whispered.

"So glad you're not a whore," Michael smiled, playing with Waylon's greasy hair. He continued, "You should really get back to your room. I don't want you to get hurt again. And I don't want you to see the wedding," "Yes, d-dear," Waylon said. Michael gave a quick peak on his lips. He placed a hand on Waylon's shoulder blade, slightly pushing him away from the door. Waylon made sure he didn't see the wood.

Waylon quickly walked down the hall. He turned, Michael still watching him. He walked into his room, letting out a sigh of relief. He was lucky Michael didn't see the wood.

He hid the wood underneath the bed and walked into the bathroom. His face was messed up. It looked a lot different from when the night he was captured. There was dirt and dry blood caked on his face. He had bruises all over. One of his eyes were bloodshot. His face was scratched and cut. He didn't understand how he was still alive...

-Wedding day-

Waylon was strictly told to look beautiful and thin on the wedding day. He forced the small dress onto his body. He zipped it up in the most awkward position. Once he got the damn zipper zipped, he looked into the mirror. He sighed loud. He actually looked a little good. 

He fixed his greasy hair, his fingers getting stuck here and there. Once he finished with that, he walked to his bed. He picked up the wood piece. His heart pounded in his head. "This better work...." He whispered to himself. 

Yesterday, he made the wood smaller, so it wasn't so obvious. Now, he wished he hadn't done that. It didn't look sharp anymore. He stared at it. "Whatever happens...happens," He told himself.

He picked up the white, old flowers off the bed. He made sure the wood was hiding behind the flowers, near his chest. He jumped when the door opened. It was an old man. Father Martin if Waylon could remember correctly. Michael had introduced him to Waylon yesterday. Father Martin had to escort Waylon from his room to the gym--ceremony. The worst part about Father Martin is that Waylon couldn't run off with him. Waylon wasn't sure if he was a victim or one of Michael's 'friends'. If Waylon asked if he wanted to run off, he would probably tell Michael. 

"Ready?" Father Martin smiled. "Uhm....yeah....How do I look?" Waylon asked. He didn't ask out of curiosity. He just wanted to look good so he didn't get a beating. "Beautiful. Michael will be proud, my daughter," Father said. 

Yup, can't trust him. He just called me his 'daughter'. If he were sane, he would of said nothing like that...

Waylon's hopes were crushed by that one word. "I'm ready," He sighed. "Great," Father smiled bigger. He held the door open for Waylon. Waylon carefully walked out, feeling his food swish and turn in his stomach. He didn't know how that was possible since all he ate was peanuts. 

Waylon's dress trailed back. There were no straps to hold the dress up so he had to keep forcing it up. The back part exposed his shoulder blades and part of his middle back, nothing else. The sleeves traveled to his bruised wrists. One small movement and he would wince at the pain. Around his waist, it was carefully snitched, going onto a bigger part of the dress. But not too big. Michael had wanted it nice and simple. 

"Nervous?" Father asked, catching up to Waylon. "Oh, yeah," Waylon weakly smiled. He wasn't nervous for the ceremony, he was nervous for the stabbing. 

They reached the ceremony in less than two minutes. "You'll have to wait here, dear. Once the music starts, you start walking," Father said. He patted Waylon's hand. But it was too hard. Waylon accidentally dropped the wood. Father noticed the wood lying on the floor. "What's that?" He asked. "Uhm, it's to keep the flowers up," Waylon quickly answered. Father slowly nodded. "Okay," He said, walking down the aisle. 

Waylon picked up the wood quickly, hiding it behind the flowers. His heart pounded against his chest. He was pretty sure Michael could hear it all the way down the aisle. 


He actually looked handsome. His hair was fixed. His face was cleanly shaved. He wore a tight suit with a bright red tie. His shoes were just regular shoes, but everything else on him made up for it. Daniel wore almost the same thing, but didn't look nearly good as Michael. Daniel stood behind Michael, probably being his best man. 

Waylon stood there, amazed at how Michael could go from some psychopath to a business man. He was so amazed that he didn't hear the wedding music. He snapped himself out and started to walk down the aisle.

He walked slowly, looking at the 'audience'. It was mostly dead victims. His heart jumped when he saw Jeremy near the back. His arms were tied up and his mouth was taped shut. 


Well, their plan went flying out the window. Even if Waylon successfully stabbed Michael, Jeremy wouldn't be able to get out. Once he got closer to the front, he didn't see Billy anywhere. Panic flooded Waylon's body. What happened to him? Where was he?

When he got next to Michael, he noticed Billy.

Dear God...

Billy was naked, bloody, and had no penis. Waylon took a good guess that he was dead. His entire body had blood and dirt. His face was messed up, some of his hair pulled out, and blood everywhere. His lower body was worst. No penis, his legs completely twisted, and stabbed all around his lower abdomen.  The skin on his arms were ripped and torn.

Waylon couldn't stop the scream from escaping his dry mouth. Michael, Daniel, and Father all looked shocked. Waylon dropped the flowers and wood to cover his mouth. Tears escaped faster than the scream. "BILLY!" He screamed bloody murder. The only man to turn around was Daniel. He looked over at Billy. "Oh yeah. Poor thing, huh?" He said with no sympathy in his voice. 

Waylon tried running to Billy, but Michael grabbed his waist. "Sweetheart! Don't make a scene!" He said in his ear. Waylon tried fighting off the tight grip but he couldn't. "F-Fuck you!" He yelled. Michael was so shocked to hear the words coming from his sweetheart's mouth, that he let go of him. Waylon fell hard to the floor.

"Billy!" He screamed as he got up. He ran to Billy, hugging the bloody corpse. His heart was torn and ripped. He promised Billy that they would get out. He was too late...

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry!" He whispered in Billy's ear. "Sa-Save y-yourself...." Billy weakly whispered in his ear. Waylon pulled away, screaming. He couldn't believe Billy was still alive, dying in pain. He looked into Billy's eye. He only had one. The left one was gone. The other eye was bloody. He was probably blind...

Waylon fell backwards on his ass, crawling back. He continued to scream. He crawled backwards until he bumped into a strong pair of legs. Michael picked him underneath his armpits. He helped Waylon stand. "Dear, we really need to get on with the ceremony," Michael said with annoyance. 

Michael gripped Waylon's weak arms, pulling him back to the arch. "Control yourself," He growled in Waylon's ear. His ears were still ringing from the screaming.

While Father said his words, Waylon stared at Billy. He watched as Billy took his last breath. He couldn't believe he was still watching. Tears kept running down his cheeks, but Michael thought it was from the ceremony. 

Michael wipped a tear away with his dirty thumb. "Shh," He smiled. Waylon didn't bother pulling away. Waylon's thoughts focused on Billy and Billy only. He got rid of the plan. It wouldn't work now. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Michael said, "May nothing but death do us part," They all stared at Waylon, waiting for him to say something. 

"May nothing but death do us part," Waylon whispered. "You may now kiss the Bride," Father smiled, closing his Bible. Michael placed his hand on Waylon's cheek, bringing him in for a kiss. He kissed Waylon softly, but it still hurt for Waylon.

Michael went down to pick him up, but Waylon refused. "What are you doing?" Michael asked with anger in his eyes. "You killed him," Waylon growled. "I DID NOT!" Michael screamed, pushing Waylon down. 

He went to punch him, but Father grabbed his arm. "We do not hit the women," He said softly. Michael retreated his arm, sighing hard and loud. "Yeah...You're right," He admitted. Waylon got up, eyes never leaving Michael's face. 

Once he got up, Michael kissed him again. "I'm sorry, love," He said. Waylon weakly smiled. "It's a-alright," he lied. He looked over at Jeremy, who was still tied up. 

Waylon looked over at the door. He saw a man standing there. It wasn't Daniel because he was standing hear Michael. 

It looked like Eddie...

Chapter Text

Waylon continued to stare at Eddie. 

Eddie was just standing there...

He wasn't stopping anything or saying anything. 

The tears continued to roll down his bruised cheeks. He looked over at Jeremy, who looked scared as he was. 

Michael picked up Waylon up when he wasn't expecting it. "Let's go, honey. We're really wasting time," He said. Waylon didn't stop him this time. He was afraid Father wouldn't stop the punch this time. 

Michael carried him to the door. As Michael walked closer to Eddie, Eddie walked away. Waylon's voice wanted to scream and cry for Eddie. But his mind didn't let him. What would he scream anyways? If he screamed help, he would be dropped than hit. If he screamed anything really...

He wondered where Eddie had walked. What was he feeling? Guilt? Pride? Jealously? Nothing? How would a child of a psychopath feel?

Michael walked the opposite way of Eddie.  Waylon carefully watched the back of Eddie walk farther and farther away. His hopes died inside. Michael walked a different hallway, walking past Waylon's room. "Um, d-dear, you missed my room," Waylon said carefully. "I know," Michael smirked, looking down into Waylon's scared eyes. He couldn't sense the fear though.

He walked into a room, putting Waylon down on the soft bed. It was a large, comfortable bed. "Just relax, my little peanut," Michael soothingly said. Waylon nodded as Michael walked into a bathroom near by. He took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. 

Waylon could see it all from the bed. "W-What are you d-doing?" He asked, voice shaking. Michael looked from the mirror to Waylon. He just smiled. 

Michael placed his tie and shirt neatly on the toilet top, walking over to the terrified bride. The bride knew this wouldn't end well, so he backed up against the head of the bed. "What are you afraid of?" Michael said with a sinister smirk. He unzipped his pants slowly, keeping eye contact with Waylon. Waylon's breathing picked up. "Please...Don't," He whispered. Tears formed in his chestnut eyes.

Michael continued to stare at him. "Dear, answer me. Why are you afraid?" He asked again mockingly. He stood at the end of the bed, smirking down at Waylon. Waylon's knees pressed hard up against his chest. "Please, dear, come over here and stop playing around," Michael said, a little annoyed. Waylon shook his head. His greasy hair flopped around.

"C'mon, I really don't feel like playing silly games," Michael said with full force annoyance.  Once again, Waylon shook his head. Michael quickly smirked, showing Waylon he made a mistake. Michael put his fingers up. His index point to the ceiling. Waylon raised his eyebrow. "One..." Michael said. 

The next finger popped up. "Two..." He was counting down. Something you would do to a child when they were misbehaving. Waylon's body shook. He didn't want to see what would happen after three, but he couldn't let Michael know he was afraid. His third finger went up. "Three," He smirked. 

Michael quickly bent over, grabbing Waylon's ankles. He pulled Waylon over. As he pulled him, the dress slightly ripped at the bottom. Waylon panicked and screamed. He tried his damn best to kick away, but Michael could handle it. "HELP!" Waylon screamed. He wasn't sure who was gonna help. He knew Eddie couldn't hear his weak cries for help. 

Michael flipped Waylon's body over, positioning his ass up. Waylon tried crawling away, but Michael's hands were firmly on his waist. "Be a good girl for daddy," He whispered. He pushed Waylon's dress up and pulled down his underwear. 

He rubbed Waylon's ass slowly. Waylon continued to scream and kick. As soon as Michael pulled his penis out, the door was pounded on. Once, twice, than the door was down on the floor. 

Eddie stood tall. He ran over to Michael, pushing the psychopath down. Waylon fell down as well, but it was soft on the bed. He quickly covered his ass with the ripped dress. Eddie looked at him, "Run!" he yelled. 

Waylon did as told and jumped off the bed. He ran to the door, catching one more look at the boy and psychopath. Michael kicked Eddie's balls, laughing. Eddie cupped the fabric above his balls. "Fuck!" He screamed. His hand quickly moved down, punching Michael's nose. 

Waylon couldn't watch anymore, so he ran off. His underwear was around his ankles, causing him to fall on the hardwood floor. He stood up and pulled his underwear up. He continued to run, avoiding clothes that laid on the floor. He ran past his room. 

He had no clue where he was going. He couldn't find the damn door so he ran up the stairs, towards Jeremy's room. He didn't notice the tears streaming down his cheeks. He barged into Jeremy's room, falling over. He closed the door with his foot and stood up. "Jeremy!" He called out to nothing. 

Jeremy wasn't in his bed. "J-Jeremy?" He said, looking around the empty room. 

An arm went around Waylon's neck, making him fall back. The air was knocked out of Waylon's lungs. He choked and coughed, gasping for the sweet air. "Shh..." Someone said. Waylon looked up above him, noticing the man. He was bruised and bald. "Oh, you're a victim, huh? Thought you would be one of those men," The man said, letting go of Waylon's neck.

The man jumped up and ran out the room. Waylon continued to cough, feeling little air filling his lungs. His heart pounded against his chest. "F-Fuck-er," He stuttered. His hand rubbed his neck as he sat up. 

His breathing slowed down. He took deep breaths. He had almost forgotten all about Eddie and Jeremy until he saw Jeremy's head pop up from underneath the bed. "J-Jeremy?" He asked. "What are you doing?"

"I was hiding from that psycho! Are you okay?" Jeremy asked. "Yeah, fine. Why didn't you help me!?" Waylon growled. "I dunno. Every man for himself? Wa-no. Nevermind. Why are you here?" Jeremy asked. "My 'husband' almost raped me until Eddie punched him down!" Waylon said. Jeremy crawled out from underneath the bed. "Did you just say 'Eddie'?" He asked. 

"Um, yeah..." Waylon carefully said. "That asshole is dead! I knew he was related to them!" Jeremy yelled with anger. He jumped up and walked to the door. "What are y-you doing?" Waylon asked. "Finding him and killing him," Jeremy growled. "No! He tried helping me! You can't kill him!" "Well I am," "Psh, good luck. You'll die first," Waylon said. "Shut the fuck up," Jeremy snarled.

As soon as Jeremy walked out the room, Waylon jumped up. He grabbed Jeremy's hair, yanking him down. "You fuck!" Jeremy screamed as he laid on the floor. Waylon walked above him, walking over to the stairs. But Jeremy grabbed his ankle, causing him to trip. Waylon turned over on his back, watching Jeremy crawl towards him. Jeremy pounced on top of him, lightly punching him. Waylon cried in pain, but quickly punched back. 

It didn't affect Jeremy.

Waylon punched him again. And again. And again. Soon, the ex-principal was lying on the floor, almost knocked out. Waylon got up, running down the stairs. 

He fell a couple times. But he was glad he did. That gave him time to think of where to run. 

Where can I go?? Fuck, fuck. What can I do?? Holy shit...

Waylon ran down the hall until he bumped into a large body. He fell to the floor, looking up. Whoever it was, their face was shadowed from the light above him. Waylon wasn't sure if he should fight or flight. 

The body kneeled down in front of Waylon. It was Eddie. "E-Eddie?" Waylon asked. Eddie's face was bloody and dirty. "It's okay, Waylon. I fought him off the best way I can," Eddie said. "How do you know my name?" Waylon asked. 

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but a scream came from behind him. "DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Michael screamed. Eddie turned around, seeing Michael. "Stop, Michael," He growled. "Don't you dare call me by my first name," Michael growled back. "That should the least of your worries," Eddie put his hands on his hips. Waylon watched from behind. 

He slowly stood up, walking away. "Don't walk away, my love," Michael smiled. Waylon stood frozen. "Go, Waylon," Eddie sternly said. Michael growled, walking quickly over to Eddie. "Could you fuckin' stop?" He asked. 

Waylon quickly ran off. Eddie followed shortly behind. "Run faster," He whispered. "It's hard to run a dress!" Waylon whispered. Eddie felt a swipe of a knife of his back. "Go!" Eddie ordered. 

Waylon tried his best running faster. Michael stopped. "FUCK YOU!" He screamed. Eddie and waylon ignored him, running faster. 

They stopped in a small room, out of breath. "I-I'm sorry," Eddie panted. "For w-what?" Waylon asked, sitting down. "For my fucking dad. I can't believe he does this," Eddie said. Waylon was quiet. He couldn't say "it's okay".

Eddie turned around, looking at the room. There was one bed and a bathroom. Waylon noticed blood on Eddie's back. "Oh, you're back. It's b-bleeding," Waylon said. Eddie looked back at Waylon. "Oh well. You shouldn't worry about me. Worry about yourself," Eddie said. 

Waylon stared up at Eddie. Eddie stared back. Than he walked over to him, sitting next to him. "I'll help you escape this place, don't worry," Eddie whispered. "You're not like him," Waylon whispered, staring at the floor. "Huh?" Eddie asked. "You're not like Michael," Waylon said, looking at him. Eddie sighed. "In some ways I am... I know you're name from Mount Massive," Eddie said. 

"Oh... Thats how I knew your name," Waylon said. "You should probably sleep," Eddie said, standing up. He reached his hand down. Waylon carefully grabbed it. Eddie pulled him up, than helped him over to the bed. 

Waylon lied in the bed. Eddie walked away, back to his sitting position. "What about you?" Waylon asked. "I said, you shouldn't worry about me. Get some rest. I'll just lie here," Eddie said. Waylon nodded slowly, lying back down.