Can I Call You Darling?

"You don't know…" I said, running a hand through my hair and trying to hold back tears, "You don't know how much I… I loved him."

I had been helping Waylon out a lot since we first met. I was wrongly put into Mount Massive Asylum by the Murkoff Corporation, and Waylon wanted to shut them down. How could I not be on his side? We met at the entrance to the Female Ward when everything went awry. Waylon was stupid and afraid; just a techie, not a survivalist. No one here wants to help you. No one will help you unless you pin them down and make them.

I introduced myself as Ivy; like Poison Ivy. I've never given my real name. I don't want these sons of bitches finding a way to read me like an open book. All I want and need them to know is that I'm poisonous, and I'll fuck you up if given the chance.

I was bribed into my stay here. I was only seventeen at the time, young and disposable to Murkoff. They convinced me that I was insane, and I personally checked myself in. I was an idiot. I didn't know what was coming to me. Don't ask why Mount Massive took in minors, ask why they wouldn't. Hell if I know.

I was put in this cell. It was dark and clammy and I was right between a murderer and a rapist. I was basically fucked, if you weren't understanding that enough already. The day time was uneventful, but when the night came, you knew it. It was lights out for real, not a single ray of moonlight got in. I fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, awakened by a horrifying sound of sobbing in the cell to the right of me. I climbed out of bed and tried to adjust to the pitch blackness that enveloped me.

"Please, no… Oh please, no more…"

I could barely make out a figure lying on the floor, face nearly smashed against the bars that separated his cell from mine. Tears flooded down his cheeks and he cried, repeating similar phrases over and over.

"I'm sorry, father! I'll be a good boy, I swear to you!"

I sat on the floor beside him. Truthfully I was dumb and tired. I relied only on the bars that separated us to keep me safe. They feed you lies here at Massive. They don't help you get better, they only throw you into your own insanity to drown in it. It was before long that I realized that this man was awake. He seemed tormented by something. I cautiously poked his arm through the bars, pulling my appendage back into my cell swiftly. "Hey, you're keeping me up in here." I spoke softly to him.

"H-hm? Oh I-I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a burden…" I heard him sit up and I could feel his gaze on me. I was pressured to continue talking to him.

"Are you alright in there?" I whispered into his cell.

"Oh, me? Yes, everything is fine." He whispered back.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I was truthfully never good at fibbing."

"Hey, um…" I was at a loss for words. This guy sounded kind of alright. "Call me Ivy."

"Edward Gluskin. But please, don't hesitate to call me Eddie."

"Much obliged."

Now, me and Eddie got along good. Great, actually. He is truly a gentleman at heart. His priorities just aren't what they should be. He knows why he's in here. He thinks he's useless. He can never suppress his desire for women. He loves them, and I know how he hates himself for it. He always tells me how he'll try to have a family someday. A perfect family. He often tells me of his childhood being very similar to that one 19-somethings show "Leave it to Beaver". He loves to tell me of how good his mother was to him, and the crazy stories that he believes I think are true. I know he's lying to me. No one helps him out of the hole he's in, so he tries his best to shove everything away.

I sometimes caught him looking at me funny. I'd tell him "Eddie, you're doing it again…" and he would correct himself without hesitation. He'd always hate to see that look on my face when he realized what he was doing. The look of uncertainty was what did it. He hated seeing that on my face. But he could never stop himself. His sex drive was greater than a dog in heat.

He's told me his horrifying stories of the Morphogenic and Dream Therapy that he had received over the span of time that he had been here. He told me what it does to you. How it screws you up… He told me with caution what the Walrider was. How it's almost worshipped here. I knew the moment I got into Massive that I had made a mistake. But I didn't know that this mistake was a life changing one.

That was two years ago. Now I'm nineteen and I can fucking hold my own against these bastards. I hate this place. They don't ever let you leave. They know you'll run and tell someone. They know this is a secret that can't be kept. It's a dirty fucking secret and no one would ever leave it be.

I was separated from Eddie and moved to another cell block weeks before the breakout. He had shown improvement on his tests, and therapists told how he had loved to ramble on about things I had told him. New songs I had taught him, stories I told him about my life, and all the new shows that had come out before I had been shoved in here. Of course progress isn't what Murkoff wanted. They assumed me to be the source and moved me to a lower floor in the asylum, closer to the Female Ward. Of course, without a friend, Eddie was a wreck. He would barely eat, and wouldn't tell any therapist anything but lies. He was devastated, and I felt like shit about it.

Sometimes the guards would let us eat in the mess hall, if we were well behaved. That was the only time I would see my friend. I'd sit beside him and share food with him, even if it all was pretty much the same. Anything to have my Eddie back. It sounds stupid, I know, but give me a break. I'm a nineteen year old boy living in a fucking insane asylum.

Eddie acted much younger than he was when he was around me. He seemed like an old soul but acted very enthusiastic with me. When the Walrider escaped, I was once again separated from him, and I was fucking pissed. I started climbing the stairs, looking for him. I had just hit the Drying Grounds when I found Waylon. He looked terrified and didn't trust me one bit. I didn't blame him.

By now, you're thinking, "get to the fucking point, I didn't ask for your life story!"

Alright, alright, take it easy, I'm getting there.

YOOOOOO FIRST OF ALL

I am sooo sorry about that Thorki fic I was working on! I went on hiatus for school and when it ended, I couldn't think of how to continue it. I worked on it a little but I gave up ok Im sorry. Also, I have this thing about writing about real people. Like, Thor and Loki aren't real, I know, but the ACTORS MAN. THE FUCKING ACTORS. THEY SAID IN AN INTERVIEW THAT THEY KNEW OF THE FANFICTION OK. I just get kinda uneasy about writing that kind of stuff with real peeps idk I just am like SHIT THEY MIGHT SEE so im sorry

SSSECONDLYYY this is the first story I have written that involves an OC. I thought it would be a piece of shit but I did it anyway because I thought , what if Waylon had an ally? U kno like someone who knows Mount Massive like the back of their hand? And I also wanted someone who was wrongfully placed in this shitty asylum and befriended a partially sane Eddie.

I wanted people to see another side to the psychopath. Like, before Murkoff drove him over the edge, that he WAS fixable, and he was charming as FUCK.

I am sooooo sorry if you don't like this ok but I like the idea so I will roll with this to my graveeeee

-Hollow