Wowie, it's been a while since I've been on this site. Uhhh I don't have an excuse. Like, at all. Also this fanfic takes place in the small part between Us dying and Us waking up, those ten hours. (Who Killed Markiplier fic wHOOP)
William stared at the body laid on the ground, a bullet hole in the chest, blood pooling on the ground. He gripped Damien's cane tighter, his gun laying next to him on the bench, forgotten. They were gone. Gone with Damien and Celine.
All gone.
Damien and Celine vanished without a trace, and their body was on the floor. The detectives body was upstairs. Wilford didn't know if he was alive. He didn't care.
It had been two hours since it happened. After they fell, William ran down only to find them sprawled on their back. Blood already leaking onto the floor. Their eyes closed. If it weren't for the bullet hole, you could say they were sleeping. Their expression was peaceful enough. But their skin was too pale, the color, happiness, and moments before their death, fear, that once inhabited it now gone.
It was nighttime when it happened. Dark outside, only the sound of crickets chirping. The sun would come up soon enough however.
What would he do?
It was an accident, he never meant to kill anyone. He would never!
If it was some sort of joke, it wasn't funny.
William wanted to cry, but he just couldn't. He didn't know why. His tearducts wouldn't let him. It was horrible, everything that was happening was horrible. His friends were dead, there was a dead body laying in front of him… but he didn't cry. He just held onto the cane that was once Damiens and stared at their body. Broken. Bloody. Bruised from the fall. It wasn't them anymore. Just a husk of what they used to be.
The party. It was the first time in a long while that the gang had all been together. It was rather out of the blue, especially for Mark, but it was fun. Then everything went wrong all at once.
Marks death.
The yelling, the threats.
The freak lightning storm.
Damien and Celine vanishing.
Shooting the detective.
And now… their body on the ground. Unmoving. Cold. Lifeless.
The Colenel tore his eyes away from their body for a moment and looked out the window. The sun has risen, shining over the grassy fields as if nothing horrifying had happened in the house. The dew sparkled in the light. Birds flew overhead. A wild rabbit hopped across the driveway and into the foilage. It was… actually rather pretty.
He must have been lost in thought for a while.
He looked back at their body. When they landed, their arms had splayed to the sides, their head lolling to the left, and their body making a sickening thunk as it hit.
More hours passed. William didn't move an inch. What would he even do if he did? Clean up? Turn himself in? Say it was an accident? Blame it on someone else?
He turned the cane over in his hands, the light from the morning sun glinting off of the gem embedded in the top. It was an accident. He wouldn't kill someone in cold blood. Not like this. Tensions were running high, he was a little trigger happy…
Oh, who was he kidding?
He murdered them. Accident or not.
He murdered them, he murdered the detective… Well, the detective was an asshole anyways. If he had gone in with Damien and Celine… maybe things would have ended up different. They wouldn't be gone. Or all of them would be gone but the rest would still be alive.
He wondered where everyone else went. They had left, but what were they doing now? Did they go to town and tell the police?
Benjamin was right. There was only death here now.
William looked up from Damiens cane. To see them.
Moving slowly, awkwardly, as if they weren't familiar with their own body. Standing up from the cold, hard ground. Looking around as if they were disoriented, confused.
He stood up, stretching out a hand as if to comfort them.
They turned around and met his eyes. They reeled back, stumbling a little, their legs weak from lack of use.
"No, no! It's okay!" He said.
"I-It's okay."