Be With Me (dnf)

Chapter 23

TW: Depictions of Violence, F slur usage.

Read at your own risk.

Earlier, George Pov

George had left the hospital and quickly jogged towards the house. He felt guilty for leaving Dream. He felt bad, but he had to do a bunch of errands. He wanted to do them with Dream, but he knew there wouldn't be enough time for that.

He sprinted up the grassy hill that led to his house. It was fairly cold, the small breeze kept hitting his legs and arms; causing him to shiver. It was nearing 2 pm when he changed, showered, and got everything he needed ready.

Dream:

Can you pick me up?

George wasn't able to even leave the house. It took way less time than George expected. He started texting back, before it happened. He could hear loud chanting, outside of his house. Sure, his window was still broken, so it made sense he could hear it. But it sounded loud and clear, like as if they were right in front of his house, which they were.

The chanting continued as the multitude of men climbed up the hill. Some carried large torches, holding them up while walking. It took a while, but they finally made it. George could see them in his vision, they were walking towards him; towards his house.

He saw the men, some he recognized; from the restaurant, from the proposal. He widened his eyes.

Dream:

Hey?

U there?

Tears reached his eyes, falling down slowly. The smell of smoke was coming closer, and closer. The men finally arrived at George's door step. One knock, followed by a couple blows from an axe, and the door was down. George scrambled around. He sprinted up the stairs, he tried muffling his sobbing. He closed all the doors, and turned on all the lights. He chose a small closet, before entering and locking the door. He chose to sit in the corner of the closet.

The men carried the axe and torches as they walked around the house. It was fairly large, they were a lot of rooms; most were empty or were for storage.

The men frantically opened all the doors, looking for George; it was obvious what they wanted. George stayed sitting in the closet, trying to reduce all noise. Until a loud buzzing noise appeared.

"Fuck." He whispered. Dream was calling him. He had an emergency bypass on, so even on silent mode the call was loud and clear. The men outside heard it too. They stood in front of the door, and knocked on it a couple of times.

"Come out! We're here to be friends!" The man in front said sarcastically. One of the others brought their axe to the door, steadying it before delivering a swift blow; knocking the door down. The boy sat there, knees up to his chest; his hands covering his face as he cried and cried.

One of the men pulled on his arm, one of the others took their other arm. In almost no time George was being carried by all his limbs, being taken outside of his house. It was loud. Fire crackled from deep in the forest next to the house. George was sobbing, yelling, screaming; hoping someone would hear him. One delivered a punch to his face, another kneed the top of his head.

"Shut the fuck up, faggot." Another man had gone ahead of the crew, crouching near the large fire. He had a torch on one hand. In his other he had some rope. George stopped yelling, his head hurt like hell. They dropped him onto the grass near the fire, he tried squirming and shrimping away. They held his forearms to the grass, while the others tied him up. The rope was thin, easy to escape; but it restrained him for enough time.

Some delivered kicks to his head and body. One of them was slowly pushing him closer and closer to the fire. He lifted his legs, and signaled for another to lift his back and head. Carrying George, they held him right above the fire, George could feel the heat directly on him. As they lowered him, he yelled, he cried. It stung, and he wasn't even fully in it. Suddenly, they dropped him in, the back of his head hit a particularly sharp stick. He passed out.

The fire engulfed his motionless body. The men left. "The job is done." One of them said before throwing some more sticks on the fire.

Darkness, it was dark. George was falling from the sky, he braced himself as he landed on the ground. It didn't hurt.

"What is this place?" He mumbled to himself while walking around. Tall grass scattered the area, along with colorful flowers. "How the fuck can I see all of these?" He looked onto the ground. All the flowers seemed like how Dream described them, no brown or gray ones.

He walked and kept walking. It was fake. The world was fake. It wasn't real. All of his memories came back to him.

How will Dream react?

George continued walking around the vast area, until he came across something odd. A mirror, it didn't reflect George. It showed a dimly lit room that was empty. George sat down in front of the mirror, and waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for, he barely even knew what this place was. But every problem was gone. The pain from being burned alive, the scars, the bruises; they were all gone. He looked through the tall grass into the vast area. It was completely empty. Nobody in sight. He stared at the mirror, expecting something; anything.

It was silent, an occasional bird chirping filled the comfortable silence that filled the vast, unknown area. He picked a flower out of the ground, it was replaced by a replica of the same flower. He admired the color, it was beautiful. He found and picked out the replica, which was replaced again. He placed one in his hair, and the other in his hand. He returned to the mirror, and sat down; and continued waiting.