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Widdle Wincoln	By : Worlds_First_Ghost Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 4462 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
The sound of crying rang down the unlit hallways of the upper floor like a blaring siren. High-pitched and throaty, most people would assume the noise was being made by some wretched, dying animal, but the house’s inhabitants knew full well that this horrid screeching was human in nature. It wasn’t the crier’s natural pitch; it was only through constant practice that he was able to manipulate his vocal cords to make his voice as high and grating as physically possible.
At the other end of the hallway, the incessant screaming forced Lori awake from her uneasy sleep. Her heavy eyelids struggled to remain open under the weight of grogginess as the blurry image of the alarm clock on her nightstand focused in her field of vision. The glowing numbers on the clock’s face read 3:15 AM, which caused her to bring a hand to her face in frustration. In less than four hours, she’d have to be out the door to drive all her siblings to school. In her muddled, sleep-deprived thoughts, she wondered if wearing ear plugs at night would be able to muffle some of that noise, but this idea vanished as reason began taking hold in her mind. She was the eldest Loud and thus felt that she had a responsibility to take charge when things go bump in the night, like if somebody was trying to break into the house. Though, Lori thought, she’d probably rather deal with a burglar than with whatever was awaiting her down the hall.
After nearly throwing herself out of bed, Lori lurched over to the closet to put on a night robe. As she affixed the robe, she glanced over at the bed next to hers, where she saw Leni pulling her sleep mask up her face. Leni looked over at Lori in a drowsy and confused daze, clearly unsure of what’s going on. Lori wordlessly walked over to her sister, pulled the sleep mask back over her eyes, and stroked her hair reassuringly as she eased her head back to her pillow. Out of everyone who has suffered over the past month, Leni perhaps was the one Lori felt most sorry for. Her ignorance of the situation may have spared her the emotional trauma felt by many of the others, but her kindness and patience ultimately caused her to be one who had been taken advantage of the most.
Lori stepped out of the room and slowly began walking down the hall, her feet like blocks of lead and each step feeling as if a year had passed between each one. Some of the doors leading to the sisters’ rooms cracked open and pairs of curious eyes stared out at Lori from the shadows. Her bleary eyes hardened at them, forcing them to retreat back to their beds and shut the doors behind them. At last she reached the source of the noise behind the solitary door at the end of the hallway. “WIDDLE WINCOLN’S ROOM” was crudely scrawled in orange crayon upon it, complete with backwards E and N’s. Lori took a deep breath as she turned the handle and pushed the door open, the screams piercing her ears as the muffling of the door was removed.
Since the time of his transformation, Lincoln’s room had completely changed. Not only has his bed been replaced by a large, preteen-sized crib and the floor littered with oversized stuffed animals, but his old possessions were nowhere in sight. He kept trying to swallow the pieces of his sci-fi models and the coins from his collection, so they had to be taken away from him. All of his comics were also gone, since “babies can’t read.” Instead, they’ve all been replaced by an elaborate mobile comprised of artwork featuring Ace Savvy as an adult baby. Lincoln had whined and cried constantly until his sisters finally gave in and commissioned several online artists in the Ace Savvy fandom to create art for the mobile, each one priced within the range from $50 to $100. One more defining aspect of the room was the faint, lingering odor of feces that had seeped into its walls after the innumerable amount of “accidents” Lincoln had made. After so much exposure, Lori had become accustomed to the stench and didn’t even bother plugging her nose as she ventured into the room and approached the crib.
Lincoln shook the bars of his crib, which produced a hollow, metallic rattling to accompany his high-pitched wailing. Even though the room was only illuminated by the dim flickering of a nightlight on the adjacent wall, Lori could easily make out the monstrosity that she had once called “brother.” His mouth was a black hole ringed with crooked white teeth that bellowed out screeches that haunted Lori and her sisters in their nightmares. His pale, malnourished body, made thin through a diet of baby food and formula milk, seemed to glow in the minimal light of the room. A disposable diaper was the only article of clothing that he wore, clinging limply to his skinny waist. Lori inwardly sighed in relief when she noticed that the diaper appeared to be dry, but simultaneously wondered what else Lincoln could be crying about. He shouldn’t be hungry, since she had Luna feed him before he went to bed, and he wasn’t covered in his own excrement either, which eliminated the prospect of a bath. Stepping up to the crib and the screaming man-child within it, Lori reluctantly spoke up.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Lincoln. Don’t cry. Your big sister is here.” The words were forced out of her mouth like bits of barbed wire lodged in her throat, each one concealing a torrent of bile directed towards their recipient.
Lincoln ceased his crying as soon as he heard Lori’s voice, his expression immediately changing to one of joy. He bounced happily within his crib, causing the metal frame to creak and groan under his child-sized weight. “Lowi, Lowi!” he exclaimed. “Wead me a stowy! Widdle Wincoln wants a stowy!”
Lori’s vacantly stared out at the bouncing, smiling man-baby, her expression void of any emotion and her mind numb to all sensation. Her mind filled with old, cloudy memories of years past, of times she used to spend with Lincoln. Back then, he had been level-headed, funny, and considerate to her and their sisters. That kind-hearted young boy was gone now, replaced by this diapered leech that only cared for himself and treated the rest of the family like slaves. Lori mentally counted off the instances where he assaulted stranger and family member alike for their breast milk, the number of different pediatricians she had to take him to whenever the previous ones turned her away, and the countless times when he forced his own sisters to indulge in his twisted demands. This creature was not Lincoln Loud. No, what stood before Lori was a monster whose name was Widdle Wincoln, and she had suffered under him long enough.
Fueled by hatred, Lori reared her fist back and landed a punch squarely into Lincoln’s unsuspecting face, spatters of blood soaring from his nose and mouth as he fell upon his back. He looked up at Lori, his eyes now full of confusion and terror. “Y-you can’t punch a baby!” he exclaimed.
Lori said nothing and only bent over to pick up a small, plush rabbit from off the floor. It was Bun-Bun, Lincoln's favorite toy. She always felt it strange that a boy his age would still keep stuffed animals. She regretted not realizing that it was actually a sign of things to come: the first step towards Lincoln's descent towards his new infancy. Wordlessly, she slammed the toy down into Lincoln’s mouth, forcing it further into his gullet with one hand while the other pinched his nostrils shut. She ignored his panicked, bulging eyes and his writhing limbs as he frantically struggled against her to no avail. Her blank expression abruptly contorted into a disgusted scowl as a putrid stench blasted her nostrils. She looked down to see that Lincoln had evidently voided his bowels into his diaper out of fear, which only caused her to redouble her efforts of smothering the life out of this wretched creature. Lincoln’s body continued to convulse for almost two minutes until he finally fell limp, the room now consumed by an eerie silence that was only broken by Lori’s heavy, exhausted breathing. She stared at the stinking, diapered corpse as the realization of what she had done sunk in. She quickly forced her head away to avoid looking at the lifeless eyes that stared directly up at her. Taking her trembling hands away from him, she backed her way out of the room and shut the door behind her.
“Lori?” A small voice from the hallway caused her to spin around in fear. Lisa stood in the middle of her door frame, looking up oldest sister quizzically. “What were you doing in Lincoln’s room?”
Lori stared back at her sister, mouth dumbly hung open as words escaped her grasp. What eventually did come out of her mouth arrived in the form of a strangled whisper. “He’s dead, Lisa. I killed him.”
Lisa blinked once, but retained her stoic expression. Raising her tiny hand, she motioned for Lori to step into her bedroom. Lori, her brain still processing the prior events, obeyed unquestioningly and took a seat atop Lisa’s bed. Lisa soon took a seat beside her after closing the door. A long silence passed between the two before Lisa finally spoke up.
“I understand why you did it. He was a menace and didn’t contribute to the household in any meaningful way. I would say you were right in your actions.”
Lori rubbed her temples. She was a little put off by her sister’s callousness, but she couldn’t find any fault in her reasoning. She was thinking pretty much the same thing while she was committing the act, after all.
“Thanks, Lisa,” Lori said with a shaky sigh. “This past month has had so many literally horrible moments, but one thing has been really bothering me.” She looked at Lisa with complete seriousness. “Where has Lily been this whole time?”
Lisa shook her head and walked over to her workstation, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a small, lunchbox-sized container. Bringing it before Lori, a cloud of icy mist billowed out of the box as Lisa opened it. Once the mist cleared, Lori had to cover her mouth to stifle a scream as soon as she saw what was inside. A tiny arm, frozen and preserved, rested inside the box. There were signs of trauma and tearing at the shoulder, as if something had ripped it off of its body.
“Lincoln killed her, Lori,” Lisa explained. “Frankly, I’m appalled that nobody had acknowledged her disappearance until now. I found this appendage under her crib shortly after you first found Lincoln in his new mental state. I conducted an investigation to find more body parts, but since my searching proved futile, I’ve deduced that Lincoln most likely devoured the majority of her body in order to hide the evidence.”
Lori could only take in Lisa’s words in shock and horror. Lisa took her silence as a sign to continue her explanation.
“I’ve been studying Lincoln’s behavior constantly in order to try and find what triggered this change. My most likely theory is that, after years of living with the stress of being the middle child in a large family, he sought to return to a state of infancy in order to eliminate his responsibilities. However, since the family was already in care of an infant in the form of Lily, adding another would only upset the balance of the family structure. Thus, Lincoln saw Lily as an obstacle to be eliminated, so he snuck into the room at night, devoured her, and took her place as the family’s baby. As to why nobody seemed to notice Lily’s absence, your guess is as good as mine.”
Lori couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Standing up from the bed, she thanked Lisa for telling her this, and left the room. With a final, backwards glance at Lincoln’s door, she trudged back to her own room and fell face-first onto her bed. She turned her head to face her clock and found that an hour had passed since she woke up. She needed to salvage any sort of sleep she could to prepare herself for the long day that awaited her.
- 6
- 7
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Widdle Wincoln