What A Wonderful Nightmare

Cigarette Tears

George's POV

Just a month ago George had a dream. A dream he remembered so vividly. A dream that filled him with pure joy and positivity every time he thought back to it. The fluffy clouds, the thousands of flowers, the feeling of innocence. 

Now he sat there on the floor. Sobbing into the chest of a tall blonde American, accompanied by a shorter boy with hair that was a perfect in-between from Clay's to his own. George's world was crashing down, and the weight of the world pushed down on his shoulders with a force that could snap him in half if he let it. Word's echoing through his head and burrowing into his heart. It stung. 

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

How did I not know? Why didn't I think to check there? Of course she was behind this I'm so dumb. it's my fault Clay is hurt. It's my fault he's traumatized. This whole time he has been making my life better, only for me to make his worse.

Thoughts like these were clouding George's mind. Salty tears emerged from his eyes and dampened Clay's shirt. George wanted so badly to open his eyes and look up. Look up at the boy he loved so much. The boy he indirectly hurt. He couldn't let himself do that though. Clay probably hated him. Blamed him. Despised him.

"George please...." Sapnap cried, shaking George's shoulder lightly.

George took a deep, shaky breathe in and looked up at his best friend. Sapnap's cheeks were shining from the glistening tears falling from his eyes. They were all crying, George realized. He detached one of his hands from Clay's mid area and reached for Sapnap's hand that laid on George's shoulder. He squeezed the athlete's hand lightly.

The room was colder than before, the warm tense air turning into a cold chilling air filled with despair and guilt. Despite Clay's words, 'None of this is your fault. None of it. I promise you that', George couldn't fight against his own thoughts.

The three continued to sit here like this. It felt like hours that they were sat there on the cold cement floor of the interview room, but it was really no more than ten minutes. Eventually, the interviewer asked for George to be escorted out. Clay had to finish answering questions and it was clear the brunette was in no shape to hear anything more about the situation. 

George refused. He needed to hear the rest. He needed to be there to support Clay. He failed him once already, this was the least he felt he could do.

Clay was now sat back in the chair across from the officer, and Sapnap stood behind him. Another chair was brought in for George, who sat next to where Sapnap stood and just a little in front as to be closer to Clay.

And so, the questions continued. 

"Do you know where the women took you?"

Clay nodded. "She took me to her house."

"Are you sure? How do you know?"

"Two reasons. One, I've been there once before with George and Sapnap. Two, she kept me in her living room. She had picture frames of George and her on the shelves. That's what kept me going honestly. If I felt like giving up, I would look up at the pictures of George. I knew George wouldn't want me to give up. So I didn't."

The officer wrote this information down on the notebook he had resting on the table. "Do you know the exact address? Any of you can answer. Also her name please"

George, still crying, wrote the address down on the officer's notepad along with the name Annie Davidson. He was crying less now, having run out of tears and strength. Hearing Clay describe how the pictures of George kept him going, made the weight feel lighter.