Setting Sun

17 | Ending of a Chapter | 17

TW!!!: blood, violence, weaponry

If these are only slightly triggering, you should be able to continue, but if you're still uncomfortable reading, as always there will be an overall at the bottom. Stay safe, loves!

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Pain. That was all George knew as he sat in the cold basement. He'd lost track of how many times Wilbur's dad had hit him, but he honestly didn't care. The only thing he could focus on was staying awake, for Dream, and the pain was the only thing doing that. The pain was what kept him grounded, what kept him aware that he was in real life and he wasn't dead. Not yet.

"Georgie, all you have to do is listen and this will all stop," his mother said in an awful attempt to soothe him, to get him to give in. This was probably the third or fourth time she'd said this, but George refused. He was stronger than he used to be.

He didn't say anything, just stared her dead in the eyes. She sighed stepping back again as the large man came forward once more. "N-no," George pleaded, trying to scoot away. "Please-" His fist collided with George's temple. Blood clouded his vision as it had for a while. His ears were ringing and his entire body ached with the effort of staying awake. George just about had a heart attack as Wilbur's dad pulled out a knife.

"Gloria, this isn't working," he mumbled. "Please, can we just try this?"

"I guess we have no choice, he's not reacting." With her words, he came closer, holding out the knife so it was pressed against George's cheek.

"STOP STOP!" George yelled, terror seizing his muscles as he fought to get as far away from the knife as possible. "Mommy, please. I-I'll do anything, just please make it stop. I'm begging you!"

"Now we're getting somewhere. George, I need you to tell me that you never felt anything for Wilbur and that it was all in your head." This should've been easy, but George found himself unable to speak. He'd lied about this so much that he couldn't bring himself to care enough to do it anymore, not even faced with danger to this extent. "Honey, please, let me help you, admit this to yourself." She sighed when George didn't say anything.

The knife cut into George's jaw, drawing a line from the middle of George's chin up to the center of his cheek. He screamed in agony, but the pleading and begging didn't do anything this time. He had his opportunity, but he ruined it and he was gonna have to face more before he could get another chance.

As the fresh, warm blood ran down his jawline, filling his nostrils with the scent of iron, he noticed as another man stood now. He came forward, holding something in his hand. Neither parent tried to stop him as he came to George, taking his hand and putting it in the contraption.

"Now, George, this is gonna hurt, but it's necessary," the man said. One piece of it stuck under George's finger nail, it was connected to another part that made it look like a teeter-totter. George understood what it was then, he'd seen it before in different shows. The man would raise his hand, bring it down hard, and it would rip George's finger nail off. Panic choked him, and threatened to take him into the black.

Suddenly, the door to the basement burst open, and loud shouts echoed through the room. The three adults turned to the door where a police officer accompanied by four boys stood. The officer held a gun, yelling threats to shoot if any of them moved, but the strange man wasn't going without a fight, and he tackled him.

When Wilbur's dad went to assist him, two of the boys stopped him, taking him to the ground in a fit of arms and legs all kicking and hitting around. George finally recognized who they were and the names slipped from his mouth, causing his mother to look at him in shock.