Seed of the Groom

1

Parenthood could be scary. Hell, even though he and Lisa were out of college and in their mid 20's when they had their first son, it was still nerve wracking. Luckily they had an apartment and both had decent jobs. Finding a slightly bigger home was barely any trouble. Lisa had been a hormonal mess during both pregnancies; one moment she was happy as can be, the next she was screaming at him or bawling her eyes out (more often than not, both). But they endured, and now have two happy and healthy sons to show for it.

Waylon thought of himself as a good dad. Not the best, he didn't know it all, but far from the worst. It was hard to be a good parent without a full on guide book, but he managed to make it work. He loved being a dad, and now couldn't picture his life without his two boys.

Parenthood was a joy, and he felt blessed to experience it.

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"Darling! You could be so beautiful... I want you to have my baby!"

The asylum was cold as always. Somehow, though, he was still sweating. Whether it be from running constantly or just pure fear, or maybe the food he found in a staff locker had gone bad, he was drenched in sweat. And now he had to hide in a small cramped space, his jumpsuit sticking to him in the most uncomfortable way, as a tall maniac chased him. The man had a serial killer's smile, and his eyes were those from a nightmare. Sometimes it's hard to believe these things were once human...

The cool metal of the locker felt nice on the exposed bits of his skin, like his hands as he kept himself in place and his forehead when he leaned forward. His clothes felt cold and wet, but he still hadn't managed to find anything but spare jumpsuits. All of them were far too large anyway. It was a wonder how Blaire and his goons managed to find one small enough to fit Waylon in the first place.

The maniac, the 'Groom', was coming, and his dress shoes clacked slowly and melodically against the dirtied linoleum floors. Huh, he must take good care of himself to still have shoes on. Let alone that outfit he was wearing; a long sleeve dress shirt with a vest over it, some slacks, and a tie. Man looked ready for a wedding, or ready for the grave. Waylon slowly swallowed, trying to forget about the blood spatters he'd seen on the fabric.

"Close. I can... ah, the smell of my love's arbor. Darling, you can't hide from me."

The locker then moves. Waylon hadn't realized how close the Groom truly was. The sudden movement tried to rip a gasp from the man, but he clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. He had to press his palms flat against the walls of the locker to keep from falling or bashing his head against the door. He could see through the hole in the top of the door as he was dragged into the room he'd been in earlier.

"You make yourself a gift for me. A delicacy to be unwrapped and- unwrapped again. And savored."

The Groom's gnarled face appears through the door, and Waylon has to use a hand to muffle whatever sound tried to leave his lips. Cold tears trickled down the sides of his face, making his neck and hair wet slightly. It just felt like the cool sweat from earlier - clinging, disgusting. The Groom smiles at him before disappearing, the locker starting to drag against the floor once more.

"I've been a little... vulgar. I know, and I want to say I'm sorry. I just... you know how a man gets when he wants to know a woman."

Waylon did know. He knew it was nothing like this. What maniac would kidnap and try to kill someone? Especially out of attraction? Waylon wasn't attracted to men particularly, but if he was, this guy still had no chance. Maybe a nice little dinner date would've helped, and not some ride in a locker that'll probably be his coffin.