Dreaming of Demons (Dream x oc)

[31] So Close

I dragged the cot under the window and stood on top of the canvas bed to reach the iron bars. It was a bit uncomfortable, but I could still manage to wrap my hand around them.  I quickly realized the effort proved nearly useless. I could only use half my strength because I couldn't lift my left arm above my head, and there was no way I was going to risk reopening the wound if I tried.

But if one hand was all I had at the moment, then so be it. I leaned back, pulling on the bars, then shaking them in place. No matter how hard I tried, they didn't move. But maybe—just maybe—tugging at them wasn't a bad idea. Eventually they would loosen, right?

And then...what would I do after that? I could barely reach the window with my hands. Would I be able to pull myself up and crawl through the small hole? I definitely couldn't do that with one arm. I would have to wait until my injury healed, and that meant escape would have to be delayed. I didn't want to be here any longer than I had to.

I moved into the bathroom to view my options there. A small window much like the one in the other room was placed high above my head. It was the only light source provided, making the bathroom dim and gloomy. A toilet, a sink, and the most rickety shower I had ever seen occupied the space. All of it was cramped together, and I would be surprised if the fixtures even worked.

I frowned and left the bathroom, shuffling along the floor as I inspected the brick walls instead. I ran my finger over cracks in the structure, pressing my palm flat against certain bricks to test their strength. None of them gave in under pressure and I soon found myself at the front door again.

I slapped my hand down on the doorknob just to give it a good yank out of frustration, and I almost tripped backward as the door came loose.

I froze, my brain struggling to recover from the surprise. My gaze slowly travelled up the wooden staircase in front of me. At the top of the stairs was a room, or some part of a house. So my cell must have been a basement of sorts—probably recently renovated to hold a prisoner like me.

I remained still, straining to hear any sounds from above. After a long moment of silence, I finally allowed myself to breathe, but not without keeping steady.

Could this be real? I didn't think the Dreamon was the type to leave doors unlocked like this. Surely, it couldn't be this easy? It had to be a trap.

But was Dream just lying in wait upstairs? What about Wilbur? I hadn't seen him since I woke up here. Where was he?

I closed the door to a crack, my hand staying tight on the doorknob. I didn't like being exposed to whatever was upstairs. I didn't like that this was possible. What would happen if I did take advantage of this "opportunity"? The Dreamon himself said he couldn't kill me, but was I willing to test that statement now?

My eyes screwed shut, and I blew out a frustrated sigh. If I played this right, maybe I really could escape.

My heart started pounding in my chest as I swung the door open again. I took extra caution releasing my hand from the doorknob and started creeping up the stairs.

A step began to creak under my shoe and I winced, pausing to listen for movement. My body was tense and the silence in the air was thick, pressing on me from all sides.

I readjusted my foot and continued on. Cautiously, I poked my head above the floor, my gaze darting over every little thing in the sunlit room.

A fireplace was laying dormant in the room with a single couch positioned in front of it. Wilbur was stretched out over the cushions, almost as still as the rest of the objects. I might have missed him if I was in a hurry. From where I crouched on the stairs, I could see the top of his head as he rested against the arm of the couch, but the limited angle made it difficult to figure out if he was actually asleep.