章節 21: Chapter 22 - Funeral - Dream’s POV
⚠️TW: minor gore/body mutilation (I'll put the emoji before and after the triggering bit) it isn't too bad but I wanted to put it here just in case.
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It was the next day. Phil had told everyone on the SMP the day prior.
Granted Dream already knew but that didn't make it any easier.
He cried.
He cried so much.
And he didn't know why.
He didn't care about Tommy before, so why now?
Why did he have to shed so many tears?
Why did his heart feel like it was tear out of his chest?
Why was his throat so tight any time he tried to get a word out?
Just, why?
Why did it have to hurt so much?
He was a monster.
He knew he was a monster.
He was created to be just that.
He didn't care when he killed.
He didn't care when blood stained his clothes.
He didn't care when he stole.
When he hurt others.
When he destroyed everything he held dear.
So why did he feel so human?
Why was he in so much pain?
That didn't matter right now.
He had the book.
He could bring Tommy back and fix everything.
Dream ran to cave, one where he put all of his items.
He didn't need a home.
At least, he didn't think so before.
But he could make now, right?
That doesn't matter.
He had ran for quite a while before finally seeing the same mouth of the cave that he had seen so often.
He went straight to the back of it and started to break down the wall.
'It has to be here
I can't have lost it
It has to be here somewhere!
Please, please I need it
Where is it!
Where the FUCK is it!'
⚠️
Dream's pickaxe broke.
He dug.
And scratched.
And clawed at the stone in front of him.
He didn't stop.
His nails tore off and his fingers split open.
Still he didn't stop.
Pain shot up his arms with every scratch he did at the floor.
It wasn't even making a difference now but he didn't stop.
He dug and dug and dug until he could barely even move his hands through the pain.
⚠️
He cradled his bloodied hands to his chest and grit his teeth.
He crawled his way to his chest and pulled out a healing potion.
He couldn't help Tommy if he was injured.
He sat down with his back again one of the many chests.
He needed to find the book.
He needed to help Tommy.
He needed to.
He rose to his feet once his hands had healed and pulled out a spare pickaxe from his chest.
It shouldn't be too far down now.
He moved the blood covered debris from where he had dug before and started to hack away at the rocks once again.
1 minute. That's all it took before his pickaxe hit wood rather than stone.
The chest.
Thank the withers he had found it.
Pushing away the remaining rocks he lifted to chest out of the hole and brought it into the cave.
He could bring him back.
He could bring Tommy back.
He opened the chest.
But there was nothing.
It was empty.
'No.
No please no.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.'
Dream ripped his mask off and threw it at the ground.
He grabbed his hair tightly in his fists as he screamed in anger.
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Somewhere else there was a smirk growing on a young mans face.
He held a book out in front of himself and started to chant.
He knew what would happen should you try and bring back a person that was already alive.
The consequences were not pretty.
But he didn't care.
Those consequences where exactly what he needed.
And so he 'brought back' the exact same child that Dream had been so adamant to bring back from the grave.
A single red eye flashed as the mans smirk grew.
"⌇⍜⍜⋏. ⋔⊬ ☌⍜⎅."
(Soon. My God.")
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每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票