Merry Marriage [Mr. Scratch/Alice Wake]
This is not his smile. Not his mannerisms. Not her husband.
But he wears the skin too well for Alice to mistake them in the first years.
This Alan has the same poor drinking habits as the previous one, but other addictions appeared as news reached her through friends and she couldn’t sustain a surprised look anymore. Alice loved her husband yet was not naive. The rot grew after Bright Falls. Their fights increased in number but he never raised his voice—only twisted the conversation around her head and smiled, turning around and not returning for the evening.
This Alan cared for her fear, but wanted her to get close with it. He often said, “Look at that specific dark dot, you may think it’s something, but nobody is really there,” and Alice believed in him… for a while. Truly nobody was there. It was beside her all along.
This Alan had a haunting voice. Echoing in the empty places of her apartment, filling the gaps of her grievance, screaming out whenever she is alone—then coating it with lust and desire and such a want that Alice couldn’t taste without remembering how bitter and poisonous it was. Or how the rot spills and touches her arms, her lips, trying to compel her. Trying to consume the struggling sanity she has left.
Now, as she prepares dinner, he stands at the kitchen table with a glass of whisky at hand. This Alan looks as if he could devour her if she gets too close. And Alice…
Alice has a knife in hand, ready to end this lie.