mysotis ((wally darling x reader))

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

TW: ABUSE

     There, in the little heart shaped locket he had shoved at me, sat a picture of a young, smiling me. My little hand was littered with bandages, just like it always was from all the trees I would climb and tumbles I would take. It was forming a heart that mirrored the one young Wally held in the locket I had found in my room.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." I held my head as I stumbled out into the main area of the house, praying Wally hadn't left yet.

Thankfully, he was still here, leaning against the island in the kitchen with his back facing me.
"Remember how I said I'm the only one that ever remembers the people that visit?" He must have sensed I was behind him. "Well that doesn't just go for the neighbors that live here." His voice was low and tired, and when he finally turned to face me again, his eyes avoided mine like the plague.

"I-I don't understand. This is..." My eyes focused on the photo, trying to make sense of this all. Even pinching myself had no effect. This really wasn't a dream. "This is me." He stayed silent, giving me time to really process what this all meant. "When was-"

"You were 14 I was 16." It was like he had prepared for this. He knew I would most likely catch on or find evidence like this eventually.

"I didn't think they could age- hold on... 14?" The realization hit me like a truck. That's the year that I can't remember. The year everyone said my father had kidnapped me for 7 months. It wasn't blocked from my mind because of trauma like all my doctors and therapists said; It was because I lost my memory when I left the neighborhood.

His fingers snaked through his now messy blue hair as he took in a deep breath. "Do you want to know the truth?" His eyes finally met mine. His mouth was twisted in a way I had never seen from him before. It wasn't his usual lazy smile, or his annoyed grimace where he pressed his lips together. He was frowning in a way that actually made me believe he was sad.

I nodded slowly, my eyes never leaving his.

Hesitantly, he returns the gesture. "You might want to sit down, it's quite a long and complicated story."

Finally breaking eye contact, I hoped up onto the counter across from him, letting my legs dangle off the edge.

He watched and waited until I seemed content. "You came here with your dad, he said you two needed a fresh start or something along those lines. Back then we weren't as weary with outsiders. In fact, we had visitors come and go all the time so we didn't think much of it." He paused, glancing at me before staring back at the ground. "Your dad barley ever left your house, but you got along with everyone, especially me."

I cocked my head to the side, my eyes begging him to elaborate. He took a shaky breath in and let his eyes meet mine.

"You were the only real friend I've ever had."

My eyes widened at his confession. I would have never guessed he could say something so vulnerable, especially something like that. I mean, this is coming from the man who has done nothing but torment me since I've arrived here.

He averted his gaze away from mine once again before moving on. "We told each other everything. Hell, we spent nearly every day together those 7 months. I told you things I had never told anyone. And you..." He hesitated, taking a shaky breath "You told me what your dad did to you."

My heart dropped to my stomach. I never did remember much about my dad, but my mind immediately flashed back to the drawing I had found in the attic. The drawing that showed how afraid of him I was as a child.