Be With Me (dnf)

Chapter 2

Tw: Gun, Violence, Blood, Knife

George adjustes his suit again as he sits down.
Church was just gonna be the same shit; George really didn't want to go, but it was better than talking to Dream about that. George didn't really pay attention to what they were doing, out of the corner of his eye he could see others stand around him. He just sat there, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do about his dad, he just wanted him to move out. He wanted him away.

Why didn't I accept the vacation.

It would have been better to be with Dream instead of being in this boring church. He watched the words leave his father's mouth; he was the pastor. He sighed as he got comfortable, he really didn't care about church anymore. All he wanted was Dream, all he could think about was Dream.

As the hours passed, George didn't do anything; he just wanted it to be over. He hated how his father could go from abusing him to preaching about 'love thy neighbor'. People got up from their chairs, and swiftly got up and walked outside.

When he got there, he waited. George was going to ask his dad the question. George couldn't deal with his bullshit anymore. He didn't want to move; this house had a lot of memories. But he did want his father out; George watched as his father approached and entered the car.

"So," George started to say, "I've been thinking, I could buy you a separate house or maybe you could buy it on your own." He watched his father change his expression from calm to annoyed.

"Why am I the one who has to move out?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because you're a waste of time and money. I'm the one who pays rent anyways." George puts his seatbelt on as his dad starts driving. His father rubs his forehead as the light turns red. He turns to face George.

"Get your fucking attitude together!"

"I'm not the-" George gets cut off as his father reaches for his coat pocket and pulls out his pocket knife. George puts his hands on his lap as his father keeps the knife in his right hand, his left holding the steering wheel. He slowly places it next to George's neck.

"What the fuck is your problem" George mumbles. He stares into the road as they drive home; his dad keeping the knife to the side of his neck. As George gets out of the car, his father swiftly follows him. As George inserts the key he quickly enters and locks the door.

"So this is what were fucking doing now, you son of a bitch!" He goes back to the car and pulls out a pistol. George watches his father headed towards his house. George's father, with a pistol in hand, is walking to his house; George starts running up the stairs into his room as his father shoots the window. George would have to pay to repair that.

His father goes in through the new entrance shooting his pistol in the air a couple times before entering. The noises, the footsteps. George locks himself in his room, knowing that wouldn't be enough. His father walks up the stairs as he knocks on every door on the way. His father shot the bathroom door a couple times before knocking on George's door.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" You could hear George's sobs as his father knocks loudly again. George walks up and reluctantly opens the door to his bedroom. George didn't know what to expect as he opened the door. His father stood there with his knife in one hand and the pistol on the table next to the door.

His father quickly gripped his shoulder before leaving a large cut on his arm. He punched George's stomach; causing him to pull back into the center of the room. George stumbles slightly, falling to the floor. His dad kicked his stomach and arm, the blood from the cut staining his shoe and floor.

His father pulls away and closes the door, picking up his gun and knife on the way out. George, still sobbing, picks up his phone to call 911. His dad glares at him; George sighs as he puts his hand on the floor and gets up. He felt like shit. He places a bandaid on his arm as he walks to the bathroom. He washes his face as he looks over the bruises on his body. A couple new ones showed up, he changes into his pyjamas as he goes to lay in his bed. He was worried about the hole in his window; but thought nobody would come here anyway, the house is on a tall hill, isolated by multiple trees.

He drops himself on his bed, glancing at the floor; stained with some blood. He adjusts his clothes as he hears his dad's footsteps again.

"Pay rent bitch, next time don't fucking fight me," He mutters. George exhales loudly as he tries to fall asleep. He couldn't, all he could think about is what just happened. This wasn't the first time his dad pulled a stunt like this, but it was definitely the worst time.

He considers calling Dream, all he wanted was a distraction; a way to stop thinking about how he could have died. Then he realizes that he has to talk about that. The trip to florida, and him not wanting to go. He really could use a vacation by now, a distraction.

He lays in bed as he squirms around; trying to get comfortable. He puts his phone down as he closes his eyes. He slowly falls asleep, still trying to stay alert to noises from outside his room. He was scared, he could have almost died. Maybe dying would have been better than going through that. The fear, it all was coming back.

He moves around, trying to stop, stop it all. Stop the thoughts, stop the fear. The chime from his phone makes him open his eyes.

Dreamwastaken is live!

George sighs as he gets up out of bed and opens twitch. He calls Dream.

Word Count: 1033