The Groom

     “Please.” He’s not sure what he’s begging for, his voice cracking on the one word as he struggles to think of a way out.

 "Ahh, you mean... I understand. Have patience darling." The Groom makes quick work of securing two hands at the other man's waist, and then hoisting Waylon well over his shoulder. Even if for a moment his knees buckled under his weight, he simply takes note that his bride may need to shed a few pounds in order to fit into the wedding dress he'd tailored all on his own. "--I'll make you perfect when the time comes."

He needs to delay him. “Can I see it? The, uh dress.” Give him the opportunity to escape, find somewhere to hide.

"If you truly want to be dressed in white before the day ends-- Then I'll treat you to the cut of a blade right now! Let's go- You'll be an honest woman yet."

     As wrong as it feels he lifts his arms and wraps them around Eddie’s torso, hugging him as carefully as possible. “Y — yeah that’s all I want.” Close your eyes, think of Lisa. “You’re doing so much for me and I should do something for you.” Like run, run. 

"Everything will work out perfectly, darling. You'll see." 

"No,no, N O you don’t — don’t understand.” Another shudder. “I…” Need to think of something, “I don’t want to let you down, but I know I will if things go the way that you’re planning and you want things to work right?” God help him his voice is shaking as badly as his hands.

"--And you will have my children."

"Maybe I should invest in mirrors, it’s easier to explain." 

His stomach twists, and not entirely in revulsion. He’s at a loss, mouth opening and closing before, “I don’t want to ruin it — the, the dress with blood and it may not even fit and I’m missing things.” Rambling on, “Things a bride needs?” Oh he is reaching here.

Well, shit. “Y — you’ve thought of everything,” you poor crazy bastard, “but we just met.” A bit of a lie there. “Don’t you think it’d be better to w a i t? A day or two?”

"Why? The sooner we wed, the sooner I can fill the emptiness inside of you."

"Oh god." He swallows his nausea back at the details. “I just need to t — time! Time to get. Things?” If his brain could ‘get’ it together that’d be great. “It’s really sudden is all and oh god.”  

"--Life is short, darling. Why, the sooner we wed and consummate our undying love the better! You'll look beautiful in the dress I've picked out for you, surely."

"When did I get all these mirrors?" 

"Not mirrors, I'm afraid."

     Abort, a b o r t. “I can’t. I’m really not — you can do a lot better.” Arms instinctively wrap around his midsection. “Sorry.” Not sorry. "

"Ahh, my darling bride to be... Think of us lying in bed, making love. Think of us raising children. A family. Growing old together. I can see it-- We're meant to be! You're the only girl I have eyes for. Let me take care of you."

"You’re missing the point I’m n —" Why was he even trying to explain? "I’m sure there’s someone better for you.”

"There's no need to be humble, darling... I choose you. You'll understand better once we're wed... Once you have new life growing in your womb."

"Are you kidding me?" Waylon pauses, "I suffered before you came along and got by just fine.” Said suffering increased exponentially thereafter — he left that bit out.

"Ahh, but you won't have to be alone anymore! Come, darling. Don't make me have to hurt you."