A Message to Scott Cawthon: Reimagined

Chapter Sixteen

The younger man lay on the floor, anger boiling up inside of him as he realised how he should have finished that musician off when he had the chance. He glared at the Scotsman who had ruined his plan and growled at Will as he laid on the floor, not too far away. Lewis could see his knife close by; it wouldn't be difficult to reach. Pushing himself up with a grumble at the pain in his crotch, he began to crawl towards his broken blade. "So, 'Lewis'," a Scottish voice said, "I think we need to talk."

The unstable man ignored him, too focused on his knife to listen. He reached out towards the handle, craving it's feeling in his hand; the power it gave him, the fear it caused. He wanted it. He needed it. "I don't think the true you would ever lie to me and I think I believe the explanation that he gave me. That you were making him do things he didn't want to do..."

"And why would you believe that?" Lewis questioned with a smirk. He pulled the knife back into his grip, feeling relieved at its familiar weight in his hands.

"Because I refuse to believe that he would hurt others on his own free will. He would never do that."

Lewis giggled. "And what if I did? What if this was just all I ever wanted? Ever thought about that, Razz?"

"No. He doesn't. The Lewis I know is kind and loving and trusting and he works hard, and he cares about others. And I know that he is still there, he's still listening. So, Lewis please, if you can hear me..."

"No. Don't start that!" Lewis snapped as he pointed the knife at the Scotsman, "This isn't a movie, that's not how this works!"

Rhys was unphased by his statement, "If you can hear me, please try to fight whatever this is. I know it wasn't you who killed Baz," Will's eyes widened, "and I know it wasn't you who tied us all up. I know, I really know, that you would never do that! Do you hear me, Lewis? It wasn't your fault!"

Lewis stood, coming to his feet slowly, with a sheen of malice glinting in his eyes as he gazed between the two men around him. Will was also getting to his feet, struggling to take in what he just heard. Lewis killed Baz!? He can't of! Where are the Ryans!? He backed away from his younger friend as his white eyed gaze settled over him in an unnerving manner. Lewis began to stalk towards Will.

"Look at me! Look me in the eye!" Rhys commanded, stepping forward. Lewis seemed to shake at his words for reasons that only he knew about out. "Lewis, listen to me! This. Is. Not. You!"

The unstable man continued towards Will, giving a quick glance to the Scotsman as a warning to shut up. The musician had reached Rhys's side and they stood practically shoulder to shoulder. Lewis looked once again towards the purple-haired man and grinned, walking towards Will in a way that would either cause the pair to split apart or for both to be backed into the wall of the reception.

"Enough!" Rhys exclaimed, stepping in front of Will with his arms spread out either side of him. "Listen to me, buddy! You need to fight this!" An annoyed groan pushed its way up through Lewis's throat and he glared at Rhys, his thoughts forcefully guiding him to dangerous conclusions. "The Lewis I know would never want to hurt his friends! His friends! The people he has cared about for years, who he's shared memories with, joked with, laughed with!"

Lewis's fingers were twitching, and he gritted his teeth. The Scotsman wasn't making any sense to him. Why would he care about these... these... idiots? These people who just wanted to use him? That's what they wanted, right?

"Lewis, think about what you have done," the musician said, keeping the fear from his voice, "and tell us that you don't regret it. Tell us that you are happy to continue this, to keep hurting the ones you love." Rhys nodded supportively.