𝘴 𝘦 𝘳 𝘪 𝘢 𝘭 𝘬 𝘪 𝘭 𝘭 𝘦 𝘳 //dreamnotfound

welcome home honey.

I thought i could write like more five chapters, but i need to take a break.

I just want to thank you guys for all of your support.

Take care.

"Who?"

"The police-"

Corpse stood up, his eyes wide open.

"How?"
"How?-"

"I don't know."
"We need to hide."

"We can't."
"They already found us."
"It's over Dream."

Corpse watched the cops putting Dream in handcuffs, taking him to the car.

And when it was his turn, he slowly closed his eyes. He didn't care. He knew it was going to end like that.

He just let the time pass, like the sand in the hourglass, like the water in the river.

tic-tock, tic-tock.

-
George opened the first page of a very long file. It was pretty complicated.

It was a list of all the things Dream did.

"murder, drugs, alcohol, stealing money, sneaking into a old woman's house without permission etc etc."

"Do we have the proof for all of those crimes?"
"I mean- I don't think Dream would do all of those things-"

"Henry? Are you listening?"
"He's a killer! He killed more than 20 people."

"They weren't innocent!"
"They were all the child rapists and illegal drug sellers!"

"But what about Miss Goodman?"
"I know her, she wouldn't do anything illegal. I bet she didn't kill a single ant in her life."

"She deserved to die."
"She treated her child like shit."
"I know everything about her."

George threw the file away.

"I got you a cup of tea Mr.Davidson."

"Thank you."

-

"Am i hearing his voice?"

"Dream do you wanna die?"
"I can do it if you do."

"I heard his voice."
"He's here."

"Dream? You heard me. I can't take any of this bullshit right now."

"GEORGE!"

Dream saw someone coming, a brown straight hair, with classic glasses.

"I knew you were here!'

George pretend like he didn't care. He took the key from the guard and opened the cell door.

Dream almost tried to hug George if the guards didn't stop him.

"Yes Mr.Davidson."

"To the fifth floor, Luke will help you when you get there."

The guards nodded and slowly walked out of the cell.

George was about to cry. He felt like he was doing something wrong.

He was doing his job. And he had to.