I then just had a thought. If this is the same building, then the original bin Eddy died in… It’s now long gone.Replaced. It’s been so long since the 70’s. Which means… Eddy doesn’t have a true place to call home. His death site is gone.
Even though I know the owners would not have known about Eddy, I want nothing but to find the owners and punch them. Make them hurt for stranding Eddy, leaving him feeling discarded and abandoned once again. But I know this isn’t the answer.
Eddy doesn’t need more violence. He needs love. Connection. Safety. He needs… me.
“I’m not afraid of you.” I say to him, reaching out a hand.
He hisses once more, but it is softer this time. One clawed hand curls over his chest as if he is trying to hold himself together. ‘Goo’ drips from his fingertips.
I shuffle my feet closer. One step. Another.
The closer I get to him, the more I can see what’s hiding behind his eyes. Behind the sludge. The gnarly fangs. The wheelie bin outer shell, harbouring his inner spirit and keeping it protected within. His broken soul begging for someone to love him.
But there, underneath it all, is Eddy. The tenderness. His cheek. His hurt. And the most important thing about him—his hope.
As I speak, my voice is shaking. I wasn’t scared. But I was worried he wouldn’t come out of this form, that he couldn’t see me anymore. That he can’t feel the connection between us. “You’re not trash. You never were.” He shifts like a disgruntled teen. “You were just… lost. Looking for someone to connect with. To be with. For someone to actually see you for you. To hold you safe in a world that didn’t give a damn.”
He trembles.
“I see you now, and all I know is, I want to be that someone for you.”
The Grouch's monstrous form quivers, spasms—like it doesn’t know whether to collapse or run.
I step into a puddle, but I don’t care. I approach slowly, carefully. Like coaxing a wounded animal to be rescued.
“I could be that for you,” I say, my voice barely above a mutter. “I could be the one who keeps you safe. Who doesn’t run from you. Who doesn’t dispose of you like trash.”
Eddy stares at me. His eyes shift. They return to their normal amber colour.
I smile at him. He was still in there.
His body jerks once, like he just hiccuped. The storm’s even subsiding–the hard rain simmering to a gentle pitter-patter.
And then, along with a guttural sound like a sob torn from a drainpipe, he steps forward, the wood pallet crunching under his claw feet and falls into my arms.
Black sludge smears across my singlet, some dripping onto my half-worn janitor outfit. His form is still radiating heat, rot and grief. But his hands—claws—cling to me like I am the first loving thing he’s felt in years.
I hold him tighter.
“You don’t scare me,” I murmur. “Not even like this.”
The Grouch whimpers… “Oscar.”
The sludge pooling beneath Eddy’s monstrous form evaporates, curling upward like steam. His jagged silhouette trembles, then softens, as if the truth of my words were reshaping him from the inside out. I stroke his face and push his hair out of his eyes.
“You are beautiful.”
“No,” Eddy murmurs, voice garbled. “No…don’t.”
But he’s already changing.
The twisted claws recede. His gnarly limbs shrink back into something human. The bin-rot stink fades into warm petrichor and ozone. And then… light blinds me as I hold him.
Bright, chartreuse, and strange. Eddy’s body gleams. Translucent, fracturing into stardust at the edges.
His time was ending. With me, fleeting.
I clutch his fading hand. “Don’t go. I need you.”
