Not Guilty // William Afton

forty four

i was laughing manically when writing the last chapter

tw: mention of death, homophobia

Man 1's POV

Dylan slammed the photos of William's fathers dismembered body on my desk. "I actually cannot believe you made me go back and take photo's of it ESPECIALLY when it's decomposing."

I pulled the photos closer to me with my finger. "William surely was.." I picked up the photo of the dismembered head. "Angry."

"I think Willow's part in this was more disgusting than William." Dylan faced the other way. He couldn't look at the photos anymore.

I put the photo down and furrowed my eyebrows. "Willow had a part in this?"

Dylan nodded. "William killed him but.. she did all that."

I looked down at the photos in front of me. "Fascinating."

"Fascinating? She's like, such a cool person until she does.. that!" Dylan pointed at the head.

Dylan sat down on the small couch in the corner and ran his hands on his face, folding them in front of him. "You got the pictures. You got what you wanted. My job here better be done."

I stood up slowly and chuckled. "Done? You.. You think your job is done? Did I not discuss with you that nothing is 'done' until he's dead?"

"I don't wanna see any more people die. I don't wanna deal with that anymore. Plus, I mean, besides what William used to do, he's actually not that bad of a guy. I know you have some history with him or whatever, but you can't still be stuck on that. If you're gonna hate him, hate him for what he did to Woman 1. Don't hate him because of something that happened way too long ago." Dylan looked at me.

"That's exactly why I hate him, Cook. Not because of something dumb that happened years ago. Don't you have a shift to prepare for? Get the hell out." I pointed at the door.

Dylan scoffed. "Whatever man."

Willow's POV

"She's dead." John stood in front of my desk.

"W-What?" I looked at him.

"I thought it was one of those times were she would just get sick and recover, but it wasn't. I think her body had enough." John tried his very hardest not to cry in front of me.

That's right. A few months ago, John told me how he would be leaving for a while to take care of his mother that got sick. He said it's a thing that goes away for a while then comes back, but I guess this time it just never went away.

I stood from my seat and began walking around the desk. "John, I am so, so sorry. Like really."

He shook his head and swallowed his tears back down. "It's fine. Listen, I just need a job so I can raise money for her funeral. I was just hoping you'd-"

"Don't even worry about it. I got you, you'll start tomorrow." I interrupted him.

"Thank you so much Willow, truly. You're the kindest." John nodded his head.

"It's the least I can do." I grabbed a pen and post-it. "What's your shirt size? For the uniform, of course."

"Small or medium is fine." He looked down.

"Right, well, thank you John. And once again, I'm really sorry. Does Henry or William know yet?" I put the post it down.

"I'm gonna go tell Henry now, and I guess I'll tell William tomorrow since he's not here." John pointed with his thumb at the door.