Outburst
Yet again, Eddie was reworking his stitching on Waylon’s gown, though it was frustrating that it was he himself was the cause of the new gashes and tears in the fragile fabric.
As he fished through his stolen supplies, he found the spool of delicate white thread, but sighed, and walked into the supply cupboard to retrieve some likely looking beads, rolling one of the iridescent droplets in between his fingers.
As he walked back towards the dress, he saw one of the hooded hooligans studying the fabric. He let out a disgusted noise.
“Don’t put your filthy hands on that. Honestly, you Legion…” He stalked past, retaking his seat, and scooped up his supplies. “No sense of reverence for art.”
“Just wondered if you wanted some snaps of your precious ‘darling’,” The other hummed, waving a few polariods at Eddie.
“Of course, I’ve been enjoying the sight of him for a few days. The way he cries out when he’s close, watching him fight back his tears...Do you imagine running that knife of yours up along his thighs? Watching the red run down all that white…it must be so gratifying.”
Eddie had frozen as he listened, his fingers clutching hard onto the scissors in his fingers. “Shut up.” He breathed, as the black clad figure circled the dress.
“Do you dream about holding him down in that asylum? Locking him to one of the beds so you can ravage him again and again? I sure do. Mm. I’d take him there any day. Especially in that pretty dress.”
Eddie didn’t even realise he was standing until he saw that ridiculous mask in front of him, listening to the choked noises. He pulled the scissors out of the man’s neck, and stabbed again, this time in the chest, stabbing again and again until the masked killer fell to the floor.
The scissors in his hand dripped red down onto the white of the mask, even as he tried to regain his composure. “Don’t you ever talk about my Darling like that again.” Eddie spat. “You fucking whore. Don’t act like you know him. He’s my Darling, not YOURS!”
The doors behind him flew open, and Eddie blinked.
“What’s going on?” Waylon walked in, before he wrinkled his nose, stepping carefully around the body. “You killed him?”
Eddie jerked back. “I…I thought it was one of…” He silently pointed at the shape behind Waylon, who moved to crouch over the bloodied body. The mask slipped up to expose the young blonde underneath, who studied Eddie’s handiwork. The other Legion boy stepped in too, hand covering his own mouth. “Oh shit…”
“Danny wishes he was one of us.” He snorted, tilting his head. “Fucker is sick-sick.” The teen picked up a sheaf of polaroids, and let out a strangled noise. “Looks like he’s been watching you, Way.”
Waylon took the photos, and turned a few interesting shades of red. “Fuck you, Danny.”
“He’s probably got copies.” The teen stood up. “Joey, let’s get this loser out of here. Fucker deserved it.”
As the two teens picked the body up, Eddie blinked. “That one isn’t part of the Legion?”
Waylon tossed the polaroids towards the fire, and blinked at him. “No, he’s Ghostface. He gets off watching people and taking photos. Clearly found out where I’ve…” He cleared his throat.
“Frank’s their leader. There’s Julie, Joey and Suzie. Suzie is the pink haired one.” He explained. “No one cares if you kill Danny. He’s…” Waylon made a face. “…let’s just say he has fun here. Enjoys it a bit too much. What did he even say to you?”
As Eddie’s eyes tore away from the bloodied spot on the floor, he shook his head, and threw the scissors towards the table, disgusted. “Nothing I want to repeat. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
Waylon patted him on the back, and leaned up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re trying. And don’t let Danny get to you. He’ll keep trying to wind you up. And he’ll use me to do it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s get this cleaned up, hmm?”
