Operation: Merciless

Chapter Three | Sweet

~George's P.O.V~

George woke up again, just this time he wasn't in the room he was in before, he is now in his "bed". He pushed himself off the bed, almost collapsing more. He looked over to see an I.V back in his arm and the chain around his ankle.

He was no longer wearing his own clothes but the ones given to him. Did that mean that the killer had undressed him? A shiver went down his spine. George was just happy to be out of that room.

He tried again to stand when he caught a glance of the killer leaning against the door.

Dreamer walked towards George, backing him up against the headboard to his bed. "I'm guessing you learned your lesson now, haven't you?"

George groaned in response. Dreamer threw a plate lightly onto his bedside table. "Eat up so you don't starve." Dreamer walked back towards the door, opening it and exiting the room.

George finally got himself off the bed, going over to the plate. It looked like some kind of stew; it looked like garbage and it smelled like garbage too.

Are you kidding me?

As much a George didn't want to eat the disgusting dish, he was starving. He sat back down on his bed and gobbled down the meal, gagging every now and then. He placed the plate back down on his bedside table, his bones aching. George laid down in the bed, pulling up his covers. He wanted to enjoy the bed for as long as possible.

When the horn sounded, George was beyond the word irritated but he didn't have much of a choice. He pushed his achy bones off the comfort of the bed, walking over to his stand, getting situated before the restraints snapped back into place. George sighed, laying back. His eyes gazed around the room as he hummed to himself. He didn't want to sleep this time, he wanted out.

The door opened, startling George who was currently lost in thought. Dreamer walked over to his stand inspecting him. "You know, you were asking a lot of questions in The Room." George looked away with guilt.

Was he about to get beaten?

The Dreamer sighed. "Showers aren't a necessity to me, I prefer my victims being bloody." George was slightly grossed out, but Dreamer was answering his questions which surprised him.

"As for the mask," Dreamer continued, "People tend to fake a smile and that's what it is." George looked into the black dots of eyes. "In The Room- ah... one of my favorites- people would usually be yelling, but you didn't seem to do it. It was refreshing."

George tried to understand his sick mind but he just couldn't. "Can I ask one more question?" He asked, his voice raw.

The Dreamer spoke "Only one."

George nodded his head. "What do you want from me?"

The Dreamer seemed lost in thought for a moment before speaking up. "Your trust." George was confused: why would he want his trust when it would be impossible to get? He's a mad killer!

He wanted to ask what that exactly meant, but he was out of questions. George just nodded instead.

The killer sighed. "Welp, I've got work that needs to be done." With that, he left the room leaving, him to question the answers I received.

Trust? Why does he want my trust? And why would George trust a killer that kidnapped him and already showed no hesitation to hurt him.

George laid back on the stand, deciding the best decision was to just go to sleep.

-

He awoke to a grumpy killer, scaring the shit out of him.

"God! I can just strangle him sometimes!" George had no clue who Dreamer was talking about and why he decided to tell this to him. The Dreamer paced back and forth in front of George, mumbling curses to himself.