It's been almost an hour. I had texted Craig as soon as I agreed to helping Clyde, lying to him. I hate lying to him, as he doesn't deserve to be lied to after all he's been through. But, I feel as if I had to. I told him I was helping Clyde with some maths homework, so he didn't randomly come over to Clyde's house looking for me to see this.

He shouldn't need to see anymore blood spilled. He shouldn't witness something so horrific and twisted.

And as long as Craig lived, he won't witness or experience anything horrible again. I'll make sure of it.

I'm pulled back into the sick reality of the situation with the foul stench of Bebe's blood. The blood that I'm covered in. So far, all Clyde and I have managed to do it bleach the knife and replace it in the holder.

We have spent most of the time discussing what to do with her body. It felt, disgusting to talk of someone like that. Bebe was alive, only hours ago, and we were arguing over how to dispose of her.

After thirty long minutes, we managed to agree that burying her would be the best thing to do. Burying her under the flower bed in Clyde's garden. Clyde had a shed with shovels, and we would take the flowers out of the ground carefully, and replace them back over her once she was buried under the earth.

It was almost like a grave for her, with the flowers above.

Currently, I'm waiting for Clyde. I feel myself shaking as I stand and stare at the deceased Bebe. Then it hits me, as I stare at my dead classmate it hits me, hard.

The overwhelming feeling of sadness. Tears build up in my eyes, and trail down my cheeks, one after the other. I don't stop them, because I don't see the point. She deserves to be grieved, and Clyde hasn't spilled any tears over her death (from what I know).

That is surprising, since Clyde is known to cry over everything.

I crouch down to Bebe's level, grimacing at the smell of her blood. I try to forget the fact that I'm standing in another person's blood, but the thought continually swims in my mind. I shakily reach my hand toward her, and shut her eyes and close her mouth.

A few tears drip from my chin onto Bebe's blood stained cheek, clearing a small spec of blood. More tears roll down my cheeks as I wipe her chin with my sleeve, cleaning off all of the blood.

Then Clyde returns, his eyes tinged with red. It tells me that he does have a heart, that he's been crying over the death of his ex girlfriend. Although the situation is one of a depressing nature, the fact that Clyde had been crying comforts me in some way.

It tells me he actually cares, and that he didn't kill her in cold blood.

Clyde's carrying a white sheet. He approaches me, walking slowly as to not step in any blood, unlike me. He smiles through a few tears that roll down his cheeks.

"Thank you for doing that." He whispers, and I look up at him confused, until I realise what he thanked me for.

"It's what she d-deserves." I say back with the same tone, and I watch as Clyde then proceeds to lay the sheet upon the floor, away from any blood.

Clyde runs his hands over the sheet, ridding it of any creases. I watch him silently, the only noise in the whole of the house being Clyde's shaky breaths. Then, he looks at me, clearly uncomfortable.

"I-I.. I know it's a lot to ask," he begins hesitantly, his hands cupped in his lap as he sits back on his legs. "But.. I don't want to drag her. Can you please.. pick her up? Then place her over here?" He motions to the sheet.

I look down at Bebe's lifeless body as Clyde's request washes over me. He wants me to.. pick her up? To carry her? I've never touched a dead body before! What if it changes me?! Scars me for life?! I gulp.

"I wouldn't ask, it's just.. I'm not strong enough." The pleading look upon Clyde's face causes my stomach to twist, and I sigh.

I have to do it for him.

I slip my right arm under Bebe's knees, my left behind her back. Then, I lift her from the ground. Clyde's pleading look instantly transforms into one of gratefulness as I make sure not to drop
the lifeless body.

She is heavy, and so still it's disturbing. No heartbeat, no pulse, no breaths. Nothing.

"I want to wrap her in the sheet." Clyde says gently, standing beside me with his fingertips lingering on my upper arm. I want to move away from his touch, but I don't. "Just burying her isn't enough, I don't want her to dirty."

I don't say anything, the only noise coming from me is my shaky breaths. I gently lay Bebe down on the sheet, and the blood from her wounds swiftly deep into the white material.

Clyde instantly drops to his knees beside her. He takes her hands in his, placing them over her stomach. A loose strand of hair lays upon her forehead, and he tucks it behind her ear.

Another amount of relief washes over me.

Clyde isn't a cold blooded killer; he actually cares about Bebe. He places the sheet over Bebe's lifeless form, and watches as blood stains that part also.

Clyde sits back on his legs, his hands clasped together in his lap, as if he was about to pray. His eyes are slightly glassy; he wants to cry but he's almost not allowing himself too.

"That was a sheet made by my m-mum." The familiar stutter brushing over his words makes my heart ache, as an image of the red eyed, messy haired and shaking Clyde enters my mind.

It replaces my image of the wild eyed, blood stained and calm Clyde, making me long to see the other.

Clyde watches closely as the white sheet becomes red, almost taking in the movement of the blood and memorising it. The look upon his face reads satisfaction, yet his body posture and the look in his eyes reads guilt.

My eyes widen, being aware of Clyde's mothers passing.

Is the guilt for the ruining of the sheet, or for the death of Bebe? Or maybe, both?

I crouch beside the brunette, shakily laying my hand on his shoulder. Only then do I notice his own shaking as he scoots closer to me, almost leaning into me.

"Why don't y-you get a different sheet?" I suggest, gently caressing Clyde's shoulder with my fingers. He seems to relax at the movement. "Then you can w-wash this one.."

Clyde shakes his head, sniffing as he wipes his nose with his sleeve. A touch of Bebe's blood rests on the tip of his nose, as his sleeve was, like everything else, blood stained.

"It's fine. Blood still stains when the sheets are washed." The stutter is gone, and he stands up, once again calm. "Come on, let's go bury her."

****

We had cleaned up everything possible to clean within the walls of Clyde's house. Then, we changed our clothes. That caused a small debate on whether or not to destroy the clothes we had been wearing, or to wash them.

Because of Clyde's earlier statement of 'blood still stains when the sheets are washed', we decided to destroy.

I changed into some of Clyde's clothes, while Clyde changed into his pyjamas, claiming sleep was something he desperately needed.

To get rid of the clothes, which were very good evidence against us both, we cut them into shreds, and threw them into a fire pit (Clyde's dad really did love his garden). The clothes burned easily, and I had to scrub my shoes.

Throughout the whole of this, I couldn't help but wonder if Craig would realise the clothing change. I had spent all of that time coming up with three reasonable excuses, but I had to think of which one was the best to use.

Then, I had to calm my nerves. Craig would notice the difference in my behaviour, and he would bring it up. So I have to get myself under control, I have to retreat to my happy place.

I don't want to freak Craig out, I don't want him to know about this.

While still trying to collect my thoughts, I leave Clyde's house and make my way back to my own.

----------------------------------------------------------

So it's been about a week, maybe two, since I've updated, anything. If you know what I'm like, I'm usually very consistent with my updates.

I could say that 'school has been taking over my life' but that would be a lie, and I don't want to lie to you guys. It's not that I've lost the 'spark' needed to write, because I've been writing, and writing and writing.

A story in my drafts. It's not South Park.

I'm not going to say I've lost all interest in the fandom, because that would be another lie.

Proof that I haven't lost all interest? I could've been like everyone else who has left, and posted this as a pure Author's Note. But no, there's a chapter with it.

Writing about the same characters, in the same relationships in the same town, gets a little boring.

I've been writing about these dorks for THREE YEARS.

I just want to do something a little different. I'm going to, eventually, post stories of different things. I'm not going to lie to you guys, I was writing a scene in an Undertale draft I have, and it was so much fun. It felt so refreshing to be with some new characters.

I don't expect any of you to flock over to those stories and feel like you have to read it. They're just something different; they're more for me than for you guys.

Anyway, this note is dragging on and on, and I really doubt many of you care or even read these, so I just want to say one thing:

I'm not, under any circumstances, abandoning this fandom. I will not do that. I will not break promises that I've made; promises of updating and of future stories.

Sorry about the length of this note, I was thinking very carefully of my words.

CYA LATER NERDZ