Chapter 16: My greatest nightmare? (WARNING)
Returning to the halls of blue felt oddly nerve racking. It made no sense as to why, it's been those walls that housed his sleeping body previously. One night in red wouldn't change that. Especially since he still didn't know how he had ended up there in the first place.
What possessed him to explore the other sections before his previous home base? What possessed him to make more emotional decisions than he ever had in his now eighteen years of living? Evidently something mischievous and vile.
With the caretaker at his side, Waylen had no need to wander aimlessly around blue. Heading directly to the meeting room where he'd meet the String family. A small hum could be heard from the colorless lips of the caretaker, the same tune from that day seemingly ages ago. A song written by the mysterious name W.S.
If the estate is the only place these residents ever truly know, than just maybe W.S. lives within these walls. Cozied away, somewhere he can write peacefully with a sense of diligence. Potentially he could even be from the String family.
Waylen frowns, his almond eyes flickering towards the open doors. A refreshing chill sweeps through his body, messy-ing his light brown hair. Firmly catching his gaze, holding it in place.
In a room identical to its sister in red, he had never felt his heartbeat so fast. Droplets of sweat run along his forehead, as his handsome face drains itself of color.
The caretaker smiles at the sight, pleased that the emotionless doll had been given an ounce of life. It mildly frustrated him that he never seemed to fear anything. That Xavier had been the only thing worth caring about. A man who didn't seem to have any problems with sacrificing anything for his personal gain, including the happiness of his boss and lover.
"Join us, Waylen Noel." Four people say in unison, extending their arms towards him.
Waylens mouth remains closed, mustering up the last of his strength to look away, yet openly failing for the first time in his life.
"Enter, Waylen Noel." Four people demand in unison, lowering their arms towards him.
His instincts screaming, he doesn't move. The disgusting smell of the room finally taking notice in his brain, inducing a nauseating feeling adding to the churning sea of his insides.
"We are not going to ask again, Waylen Noel." They say, this time openly hostile. He slowly makes his way into the room, feeling liquid form in his eyelids. As the caretaker quickly moves past him, pulling out an old chair from the table.
"You haven't touched your food this morning, meat is good for you." Comments the woman, extending her body across the table, pushing the breakfast plate closer to his face.
Feeling for the caretaker next to him, flashes of last night's events return to him. Psychotic, mentally deranged, violent, obsessive, compulsive, just why? Fuck, he could have blown himself to bits last night. He made out with a man whose first thought had been to strangle him upon arrival. Chesslynn, save me.
"Don't make the estate angry, Waylen Noel." A man warns, pointing a knife at his neck. "Eat."
Waylen doesn't move, he couldn't see anything but the plate of "food" on the table and the blue wall. His peripheral vision oddly restricted, as to not make out the appearances of anything else.
"Waylen, eat it or Xavier dies."
Good riddance. They had done nothing but harm each other since the get go. Why should he care if he dies? The look of his face losing all power, filled with submission and embarrassment. Degraded to nothing but a nameless sack of meat, as to not be glorified. It made his heart flutter. Who cares if he dies?
Shocked, the caretaker lets out an air of disapproval around the already disturbing meeting hall. Not wanting to believe they would do such a thing.
But, if Xavier dies he'll be alone. Nobody will feed him non contaminated food. All the amusement in his life will disappear with his pathetic corpse.
Grabbing a nearby set of silverware, he cuts open the human heart on his breakfast plate, swallowing it. Doing his best not to puke it up, before they make him eat that too.
In the center of the table, is the corpse of that girl in yellow. The same from that painting he discovered on arrival. Her black blood flowing all over the table, organs piled on top of each other with all major limbs severed, resting a few inches away from the center.
One bite isn't enough. Under the watchful gaze of the meeting room, the rest of the heart made its way into his sorry mouth, rubbing up against his sharp teeth before falling down his throat into his nausea pit of a stomach.
What should have taken away Waylen's hunger, only increased it. His stomach rumbling for more. His head painfully throbbing. A pile of small intestine makes its way onto the breakfast plate, slimy in texture, he wanted to cry if he hadn't been already. It appears as if he wouldn't be done, till the whole corpse is gone, leaving nothing but the skeletal structure.
"Don't worry dear, you will serve yourself the best for last." They all tell him, once again all speaking in unison.
Piece by piece, the corpse makes its way into Waylen's mouth. The caretaker radiating positive energy throughout. Each part having a different taste and texture to it, all causing the increase in the desire to detonate that bomb, killing everyone here.
Ten minutes of nonstop eating later, an intact human head makes its way onto his plate. The girl's blue eyes staring back at him. Alongside a hammer, which purpose is obvious.
"Don't look at me, I'm sorry." Waylen makes out, thick, black blood smeared all over his lips.
Shakily holding the hammer, he brings it down onto the head, desperately wanting to close his eyes as it splatters all over his body.
"Don't you want to stay up late?"
"Don't you want to kill?"
"Don't you want power?"
"Don't you want to rule?"
"Don't you want love?"
"Don't you want to feel emotions all of the time?"
"No," Waylen thinks to himself, eating the pile of brain matter on the plate till there is nothing left to devour only then did he feel full.
"Happy birthday, Waylen."