𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚋𝚞𝚛)

𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎

Wilbur woke up, and realized just how heavy his body felt.  He felt like a rock.  Or like a waking corpse.

"Wilby!  You're okay," Tommy shouted happily.

"What happened," Technoblade asked.

"We met the devil himself," Tommy deadpanned.

"I didn't ask you," Technoblade said.  "Wilbur, what happened?"

"I... I can't remember," Wilbur answered.

He tried to think about what happened, but he couldn't remember.  It was like someone had completely blocked off his memories. 

"What do you mean 'you can't remember,'" Technoblade asked.

"I remember something bad happened, but that's it.  I can't remember detail, people, anything!  I just remember being scared."

"It's okay.  I'm sure you'll remember eventually," Techno reassured.  "Now I need to go start dinner."

"NO," Tommy shrieked.  "YOU SUCK AT COOKING!!  MAKE WILBUR DO IT!!"

"If you haven't noticed, Wilbur's unwell," Techno stated matter-of-factly.

"No, I can do it," Wilbur said.

He tried sitting up, but it was a struggle.  Technoblade gently pushed his shoulder until Wilbur laid back down. 

"I am making dinner," Techno declared.  "Come on Tommy, you can help if you're so dead set on me being a terrible chef."

"You ARE a terrible chef!  The only thing you can make is mashed potatoes!  Even a retard can make mashed potatoes!  And I'm fucking sick of potatoes," Tommy shouted.

"What did we say about that language Toms," Wilbur scolded.

Tommy scoffed and walked off, and Technoblade chuckled and followed him.  Wilbur sighed, and rolled over in his bed.

What happened?  Why did he remember feeling panicked?  Why couldn't he remember?!

"Are you positive that you want to remember," a voice with an odd accent asked.

"Where are you," Wilbur said quickly, struggling to sit up and look around.

"Tell me, are you positive you want to remember," the voice repeated. 

"Yes," Wilbur replied.  "I want to remember!"

Suddenly Wilbur was lying back down, but his head was on someone's lap.  Fingers were entangled in his hair, making him feel comfortable.  Making him feel safe.

"Remember me," the voice asked.

Wilbur looked up, and saw the devil himself.  Tommy had been right.

Jschlatt's fingers gripped, pulling Wilbur's hair.

"If you scream, I will slaughter both of your brothers," the demon threatened.

Wilbur swallowed thickly, the dark thoughts of his brothers' mutilated bodies haunted his mind, scaring him to death.  He couldn't be the reason they died.

"Good boy.  Now that you remember, why don't you tell me how amazing I am."

"I'm sorry?"

"You denounced your gods in their place of worship for me," Jschlatt said.  "So tell me again how amazing I am."

Wilbur didn't need to be reminded.  He had committed a terrible sin.  Primes, he was screwed.

"Remember your brothers," Jschlatt said, tapping Wilbur's forehead.

"You're... amazing," Wilbur forced out.  "You're wonderful, and I do not deserve to be in your holy - unholy- presence."

"Good mortal," Schlatt praised.  "Now, don't tell anyone about me, or I will slowly cut that one mortal open in front of you.  What was his name... Tom?"

"Please don't hurt him," Wilbur begged.

"Then you'd do best to keep your mouth shut."