"What are you?" Lincoln inquired.
"You shall find out soon enough my boy." the demon responded, faking a friendly tone.
A chill ran down the 12 year old's spine. His fear and curiosity were battling each other, while a series of questions ran through his mind: Who is he? What is he? Will this voice hurt him?
"No, I won't hurt you in any way."
Lincoln was taken aback, which didn't aid either his fear nor curiosity in their fierce battle.
"How did you-"
"I can read minds."
"Oh." Lincoln though about this for a moment, "So what are you?"
"Well…" the demon thought. He didn't want to give himself away so easily.
'Since he's only a child, I guess I could use him.' The demon sinisterly thought to himself, until an idea pinged in his wicked brain.
"Well my child, I am an angel, sent by the Lord himself." The demon replied, lying through his teeth.
Lincoln was flabbergasted by this, "Woah, so like, from Heaven."
The demon cringed at this thought, "Oh yes, I am." He responded through gritted teeth, trying his best to conceal the disgust in his tone.
"So why did you come," Lincoln paused for a second, "to me?"
Satan's servant cautiously thought about his next words. Say the wrong words, and the boy would know something's off. The demon pondered on his response.
"Well?" Lincoln questioned, getting a bit impatient.
And just like before, and another idea came to the unholy spirit.
"You see, the Lord always sends an angel to anyone who has suffered from the loss of someone close to them. In this case, your father."
"I understand." tears welled in the 12-year old's eyes at just the mention of his father. He wiped the tears away before they could run loose, preventing himself from crying in front of an 'angel'. The demon however, didn't care to notice his host was on the verge of crying and simply carried on,
"The Lord sends us angels to comfort you while you go through these life-changing points in your life. So that you can open up to us and tell us anything you want." However, the second he said those last few words, he regretted it because it was these words that caught Lincoln's interest.
"I can open up to you about anything?" Lincoln questioned.
"Well… y-y-yes, but you know, you don't have to waste your time-"
"Oh my gosh, I have so many things that I've wanted to tell someone, but I didn't know who. I thought about my friend Clyde, but-"
The demon face palmed himself, for not choosing his words carefully. He tolerated the boy's idle chatter, forced to listen to his inane problems and monotonous gossip. He listened to Lincoln for what felt like an eternity. Problems from bullies, weird trades with food, how he needs someone to talk, some girl name Donnie… Anne? The list went on. Lincoln carried on, ignoring the fact that this 'angel' hadn't responded to any of his problems. The conversation, however, started to get more interesting when Lincoln brought up his dad. The demon listened intently, while the white-haired boy continued, tears starting to form. The demon was practically taking notes: Lincoln, told him how he felt, what he'd been doing, what had happened in the last few days. Lincoln resisted the urge to let his tears pour, but no matter how hard he tried, he was always on the verge of shedding his tears. Thus, the eleven-year-old decided it was best to refrain from the subject for a while. And so, he went back to his mundane chatter. The demon waited for him to end. But it never seemed like it would. Every time Lincoln paused, the demon was hopeful, hopeful that he would stop, hopeful that he would just go back to sleep, hopeful that at some point, he would just shut up. Suddenly, a loud sound started playing. This loud sound seemed to be coming from an alarm clock, indicating that it was 6:30. The demon was familiar with these machines, since Frank used them all the time. Lincoln unenthusiastically sat himself up and turned off the alarm clock, and then proceeded to lie back down again.
"Aren't you going to get up?" questioned the demon, hoping that he wouldn't continue the tedious talk.
"I don't see a point in getting up." the boy relied, "it's not like my dad is down there making breakfast, or making some puns, or playing his cowbe-" Lincoln could barely finish his sentence as tears started to form in his eyes. He couldn't help it anymore. So he stopped bottling them up. He let them escape. One by one, the tears started to stream down his face as he thought about his memories with his dad. But he kept coming back to the same one; the memory of him lying next to his dying father, unable to do anything, blaming himself for bringing him there. He didn't cry out loudly and sniffled softly instead. The demon was overjoyed by all the sadness he was feasting on. But he couldn't just keep absorbing sadness. Oh no, he needed more. He needed to get this stupid child out of bed, so that there were a more diverse array of negative emotions to pick from: anger, jealousy, guilt, and so much more. Now, he just had to persuade Lincoln to get out of bed and get ready for school.
"You know," the demon started, "I think it would be good if you got out of bed and went to shool."
"It's pronounced 'skool'." The white-haired boy replied in a matter-of-fact tone
"Whatever."
"Anyway, what makes you think that I should get out of bed and go to school?" Lincoln asked.
"Well, look at you!" he exclaimed, "you're unhealthy! You should get out and about! And I bet that your best friend Bryde-"
"It's actually Clyde."
"Same thing! Anyway, I bet he's dying to see you."
Lincoln thought for a minute.
"Alright, I guess you have a point."
"Splendid! Now get ready for shool!"
Lincoln didn't bother to correct him this time, and slowly rose from his bed and opened the door of his small room. He trudged along the corridor, and towards the bathroom, and started to brush his teeth and freshen up. Once he'd had breakfast, gotten ready and said goodbye to his mother – who probably didn't hear him through all her tears.
He reluctantly stepped out the door of his house, and at a pace that even a tortoise could beat, walked towards his bus stop, head down, accompanied with a gloomy expression that would put Lucy to shame. Lincoln reached the bus stop and waited. Soon enough the canary yellow bus came by and he got on. The pandemonium paused as the white-haired boy got on, and all the kids simply stared at him, aware of the situation he was in. Lincoln paid no attention to them, and walked down the bus looking for Clyde.
"Lincoln over here!"
Lincoln turned his head to see a familiar African-American boy sitting in one of the seats. Without responding, he walked over to his best friend and sat next to him. Clyde smiled, but the boy remembered the situation his friend was in, and wanted to try talking to him about it.
"Hey, buddy?"
"Yes Clyde?" Lincoln responded, unenthusiastically.
"I just wanna say that, I'm sorry about what. I can't possibly know how it feels, or what you're going through. But if you ever need someone to talk to, or if you're feeling lonely, or need a shoulder to cry on, I'll be there."
Lincoln forced a small smile. He'd always loved his best friend's sweet, caring personality.
"Thanks Clyde, I appreciate it." Lincoln was careful not to let his tears slip like they had in the morning when he had that conversation with the 'angel'. He pondered; was the angel still there?
"Yes, I am still here."
Lincoln jerked his head up, alarmed of the demon's sudden response. Clyde noticed this and was quick to act,
"Lincoln are you okay? Did something bite you? Did something poke you? Did someone poke you?"
"Clyde calm down you're spiraling!"
Clyde didn't listen though and kept rambling on.
"Clyde!" Lincoln exclaimed, catching his friends attention, "just take a deep breath."
Clyde followed his instructions, and calmed down almost immediately.
"Thanks for that bud." Clyde thanked
"Don't mention it."
Soon the bus reached Royal Woods Middle School. Classes had not started yet, so Lincoln went straight to his lockers, a glum expression still glued onto his face. The boy opened the locker to get out his things, only to hear the voice of a familiar someone. He looked in fear at the bully. Red hair, green top, rotten attitude. The demon seemed to notice this character as well, and instantly took a liking to the bully's nasty words and malevolent attitude.
"Who is that?" the demon asked, with an enthusiastic tone.
"That is someone who we should avoid."
"Judging by what's going on in your mind, I assume you've had bad experiences with him?"
"Ha, understatement of the year." Lincoln stated.
After giving an unfortunate victim a painful wedgie, the bully finally noticed Lincoln and walked right over to him. While he was only about Lincoln's height, he was still able to intimidate most of the students in his year. Yet despite his reputation, Lincoln Loud was one of the few people who wasn't intimidated by him. However, the redhead was constantly trying to change that.
"Well look who it is, Lincoln Lame."
Lincoln turned towards him, trying to contain his irritation, "Leave me alone Chandler."
Author's note: Hello all, I did try to make this chapter longer, since quite a few were letting me know about that. Remember to write down any feedback in the reviews. See ya later!
