wipe the blood off your face (it may stain)

The Fear Has Gripped Me But Here I Go

He murdered somebody. Wilbur murdered somebody.

It was okay. Nobody knew. It was inevitable until someone did.

He murdered somebody.

Wilbur walked back to the Hero Tower at 3:00am, finishing off his patrol with Niki. She didn't comment on his weird behaviour.

The minute he entered his floor, as quiet as he could to not disturb Techno or Phil, he went for a shower. He had to remove the blood on him. The blood of someone he murdered. Just wipe the blood off your face. It may stain. Wilbur couldn't let it stain.

He changed out of his clothes, feeling strangely detached from himself and flopped down onto his bed. He needed to get rest.

... It didn't go well.

He could still feel the blood that coated on his fingers, despite them being perfectly clean. The moment he closed his eyes he saw the teen's eyes of fear. He looked so much like Tommy. Tommy was terrified. It wasn't Tommy. He was a murderer. The blood that splattered everywhere. The blood that poured on the floor. The bloody gun. He could hear the echoes of the teen's screams.

Wilbur got up from his bed and took perhaps too much melatonin. But he needed sleep. He couldn't bear to be conscious.

He passed out half an hour later.

Wilbur woke up at 8:32am, running on maybe four hours of sleep, but he knew that there was no chance he'd be able to sleep for a while. He got up from his bed with a groan and tried to ignore how disgusted he felt of himself.

He walked into the kitchen, not bothering to change out of his pajamas as he saw Techno and Phil both sitting at the island table in the kitchen. Phil was on his laptop, doing whatever old men do while Techno read a book as he sipped what Wilbur would guess as tea.

"You're up early," Phil commented casually. "For you, anyway. This is the time most people should be up."

"Didn't you take the night shift?" Techno questioned, turning a page from his book.

"Unfortunately," Wilbur grumbled. "So I actually have a good reason for sleeping in." He shot a look at Phil before moving over to the kitchen. "Did you guys make coffee?" He asked, grabbing himself a cup. He ignored how his hands trembled.

"Nah, we made tea instead," Techno answered.

"Lunatics," Wilbur smiled playfully at them. Little did they know he was a murdering monster.

Phil scoffed, "yeah, yeah. Say what you want, but tea has much more health benefits than coffee."

"Don't care," Wilbur quipped and began to make himself a pot of coffee. The heavy feeling in his heart was shoved down as he bickered with his family. The thoughts of the bank and the blood and the-

"So, when's Tommy coming around?" Wilbur asked tightly. He poured the coffee into his mug, his hand trembling so much he was worried he would spill. He had his back turned to his family, so he didn't notice the arched eyebrow from Phil or the tensing from Techno.

"9:00am as always," Phil said with a hint of confusion.

"Right," Wil whispered. With his mind so clouded by his thoughts he didn't notice the hot coffee spill until hot pain flared up in his hand. He grunted and looked at his hand to see the damage.

"Shit, are you alright Wil?" Before Wilbur knew it, Phil was at his side and inspecting his hand.

"Yep. Just hurts a little." He moved his hand away from Phil's grip and ran it under cold water in the sink. "It's a small burn, I'll walk it off." He reassured the two when he noticed the worried looks.