Silent. The entire world had gone silent for Lincoln as he stared down at the dead body of Chandler. No. NO. It wasn't meant to be like this, he never meant for it to end like this! Chandler had brought the knife into this. It was his knife it was HIS fault!
No. It didn't matter that Lincoln hadn't meant to kill Chandler the fact of the matter was that Chandler was now dead and there was no undoing it. Lincoln tried to stand back up but his legs were failing him. He gazed over at Chandler's two friends who were now beginning to recover from their injuries. They began to make their way toward Lincoln, stopping when they spotted the corpse of their leader.
"You... You've killed him! You fucking KILLED HIM!" one of them shouted while the other looked at his friend.
"Dude, like three people, died at school today I don't know why you're taking this so seriously lol"
"This one affects the plot, dumbass! We need to call the police or something!" the second one said as he grabbed his friend by the arm and started pulling him toward the entrance of the graveyard. Lincoln was still frozen, unable to move and stop them.
As they approached the entrance, a wide figure stepped through, the darkness of night hiding the identity. Before the two could even react, the figure wrapped its large hands around the boys' throats. Lincoln looked over as he heard two sickening cracks followed by two thuds and the figure threw the bodies of Chandler's friends aside and began to walk toward Lincoln.
Lincoln tried desperately to get his legs to move but they wouldn't comply. The figure was now mere feet from him.
This was it. He was going to die.
"Lincoln, my boy! you've done well." A voice said to him as they bent down to Lincoln's level.
"P-Pop Pop? W-What're you doing here?!" Lincoln asked as he began to lower his guard.
"My boy, surely you knew that I'd been watching you and the other members of the family, waiting for another one of you to join your old Pop-Pop in the art," Albert said as he put his hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "Your first one is always special, my boy." Albert examined Chandler's corpse before pulling the pocket knife out of his throat. "Hm. Use a bigger knife next time, my boy. More fun."
Lincoln began shaking his head. "N-No! That knife isn't mine it was his! I-I didn't mean to kill him I just-" Lincoln began to stutter and hyperventilate.
"Ah, but you did kill him. Accident or not, it doesn't matter. He's dead because of you. Don't be ashamed of yourself, Lincoln. I knew of this boy and I know who his parents are. His mother and father both used him as a punching bag and showed no love. You've done this poor bastard a favor the way I see it! And you even did it in a graveyard. Guess you've done most of the work for them!" Albert said out a sick heartily laugh. He took pleasure in this and had not an ounce of remorse. For a fat fuck who dresses up as Santa for the kids every Christmas, he sure was an evil bastard. "Come now my boy. You need to get back home." Albert helped Lincoln to his feet and the pair made their way out. Lincoln couldn't help but give one last look at Chandler's body before they left.
To Be Continued
