Lincoln Loud, the only son in the Loud family. His life was rough, he was a cannon pudder, he was a lab rat, he was always tied in inescapable bondage. The moment he married Ronalda Santiago, he thought his life would be great, living in a house with green rows of grass decorating the front and a porch with the peaceful breeze. He had thought of all that, life would be great, but fear blocked his path. He loves his sisters dearly, Lori, Leni, Luna, Luan, Lynn, and the others, he wanted a large family like the one he grew up in. How unfortunate when they found out that Ronnie Anne couldn't bear kids. He was afraid to die alone, and because of that fear, he ended their relationship, leaving the poor woman alone with a piece of paper signifying the death of their relationship. Death, the huge step in life, the one Luna had passed, and the one Lincoln would feel in minutes. Suicide is the key to the chastity belt called life.
He knew he was wrong to treat Ronnie Anne like that, he knew he destroyed that poor girl's life when he left with Vanzilla into the sunset of uncertainty some two weeks ago. He couldn't live knowing that fact. If time was reversible as if it was a video streaming online, he would have reversed it. He knew his mistake, and there he is, inside the minivan Lynn Loud Sr. passed over to him. With a phone in his hand and a six-shot revolver in the glovebox. Sucking all of the courage he had left he dialled the number, Ronnie Anne. Deep inside he knew Ronnie Anne wouldn't take him back in after what he did to her. "Hi, Ronalda," Lincoln said as his call was answered.
"Hi, Lincoln," Ronnie Anne replied, her voice was raspy and her tone was condescending, "are you going to rub it all on my face about what I couldn't give you?"
"I'm sorry Ronnie Anne, I wasn't the best husband to you, You deserved better," Lincoln continued before his eyes watered away, and whimpering blared. "It's okay after this, I won't be here to haunt you anymore,"
"Lincoln what the fuck are you doing?" Ronnie Anne asked with a slight panic in her voice, "Lincoln where the fuck are you?"
"Ronnie Anne, I love you," Lincoln said as he threw the phone out the window.
He turned the radio on, pulling out a bottle of Captain Monroe's Rum, pulling the cap open he took a sip. Sip after sip and the bottle was half empty. "Why am I not drunk yet?" he asked. The radio buzzed song after song until the last blaring song of the day. "Hello there Great Lakes City, we shall now listen to one of the earliest published songs by the late Luna Loud," The song started, and Lincoln couldn't take it anymore, he punched and punched the radio only to break the volume button, turning it louder than it already was.
"For fuck's sake," Lincoln yelled.
With might he slammed his head on the steering wheel, bruising his forehead. Depressed, guilt-ridden, cursed, bad luck, that is how he will be remembered. His right hand reached into the glovebox, and the six-shooter came out with it. Six .38 rounds in the slots, carefully he caressed the snub-nosed pistol, examining his end. The black metal barrel, cold and cruel, the wooden handle was smooth and grooved, perfectly crafted for his artistic hand. Putting the barrel in his mouth his eyes became rivers. Hammer pulled and as he was about to pull the trigger, a scream was heard. "What the fuck?"
He got out of the rusty old minivan and ran in the voice direction, with his gun in hand. His body was covered with a black office shirt, and the shiny office badge hanging from his chest. Then he arrived into an alley, dirty floor, littered with trash and vermins, nobody was there. Then the screams started again, walking deeper into the alley he saw two men, grabbing a woman wearing some skimpy tight outfit. "Get away from her," Lincoln said with the gun pointed out, but the two men didn't stop. With guns of their own, they pointed it at Lincoln. Looking for a way to win, he took out a stack of cards from his back pocket. Using his fingers he rapid fired the cards at the two men, confusing the two, giving him a moment to fill the two with three bullets each. He felt pride when the two men fell to the ground, lifeless, with their eyes bulged out and their faces were frozen in fear. What was it that the two men saw when the bullets hit? a man with a stack of cards? or the angel of death himself?
"Thank you, officer," She said as she ran off into the lit streets. Why did she call him officer? we may never know.
He looked down at the wet floor. The ace of spades laid on one of the men's chests, a hole in the middle of the giant spade, blood seeping into the paper card turning it red. Picking it up, he examined it, how could he be this calm after shooting two men? "Ace Savvy eh, I'm Ace," Lincoln said before walking away. It was a rather more stylish suicide he thought. A better way to go out. "Goodbye Lincoln Loud," he said before walking away into the unknown.
Little did he know a camera was watching him, observing his movements, the eye that stays awake until the end of time. The sinister behind the monitor laughed, entertainment at its finest. Blood was everywhere, flowing through the monitors, the ocean of sadists, unleashing the pain to the beasts. Laughter, cure of all evil, he laughed at the sight of the white-haired man. Smiling, laughing, chuckling day in and day out in the dark room lit with computer monitors. "We'll meet again my little plaything,"
Big thanks to GoodSR for recommending Grammarly, cheers mate, may the Lord of Flies bless ye.