Blurry Nights

Chapter Nine | Not Everything is Bad

Dream was covered in scratches and bruises. George didn't know what he had done to deserve such treatment. He had the urge to trace the marks with his finger, but held back from doing so.

"What did they do to you?" George mumbled, mesmerized by the destruction covering his back.

"Tried to beat the Devil outta me." Dream let out a deep sigh. "Every time I did something wrong, they thrashed me with whatever they could get their hands on. The belt wasn't the worst of it, but it left quite a lot of scars behind."

After struggling not to feel the marks, George's curiosity got the best of him and he rested his hand on a long fresh scar along his back. Dream froze, watching him trace the mark.

Dream grabbed his hand, stopping him from going any further. "Does it hurt?" George asked, his hand still in his grasp. He let go.

"Not anymore. Eventually you learn to ignore the pain."

"They whipped you there?" He looked into Dream's eyes, trying to ignore the mark.

He nodded. "That one was recent. Didn't listen to Gibson."

"What did you do wrong?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter."

"Do they do this to anyone else?" George asked.

Dream looked away for a moment. "Not really, if people listen and do the program as told, they should get through it without a scratch. That's why it's so important to follow the program and the rules so you make it through it into a better place." He pulled his shirt back on.

"Is that what they do behind the door? Beat the shit out of you for no reason?" George asked, frustration in his voice.

"Yeah. They say it's because the Devil is in me or that if I get punished, I'll learn to be better." They started out of the bathroom.

"Was that why you looked terrified when I walked past your room? You thought they were going to hurt me? Like how they hurt you?" he asked, concern making his face twist to a frown.

"Yes." He sat down in his bed, running his hand through his hair. "You really shouldn't stay around me. They might think that the Devil spoke to you."

"You're not the Devil, though." George tried to comfort him by telling him that but he had no idea who the Devil really was, but he certainly definitely wasn't.

"No, but Gibson will tell you otherwise. Whatever he says goes," he concluded.

"Where does Gibson take you? Does he hurt you?" he asked. Dream always disappeared with Gibson.

Dream shook his head. "Like I told you: everything that happens in the program stays between me and the other staff." He sounded frustrated, as if he was trying to protect George from the answer.

"So he does? Is it always Gibson?" he continued, despite the fact Dream was clearly done with the conversation.

"It doesn't matter! Just listen, okay? You need to forget everything I told you and stop asking about Gibson before you get yourself hurt!" Dream snapped, his voice taut and frightened.

"Why are you telling me this just to tell me to forget I ever heard it?" he asked, confused.

"Because I can't stand you getting hurt because of me. You need to get out of here! If you keep talking to me, you can risk getting stuck here," he said.

"But you're my friend."

"I shouldn't be. Your friends tell you to stay away."

"It's because they're afraid of you. Everything we've heard about you was bad, but you've never done anything wrong."

"I am bad."

He gave him a look of pity before shaking his head. "You're lying to yourself then..." George sighed before sitting beside him. "Why are the rules so strict against touch?"

"Because touching a man is gay, apparently?" he chuckled as George searched his eyes for an answer. Despite everything that happened, he was unfazed, taking everything in a joking manner.

"You seemed terrified to touch me in the movie room. Do you believe touching me is gay?" he tilted his head, remembering how Dream let go of his hand like it had burned him.

"I'm not allowed the briefest of handshakes, remember?" he reminded him, refusing to catch George's eyes.

"I was afraid..." he answered.

"Of what? Is it hurting you?" he asked, but Dream shook his head.

"What would Gibson do if he saw me breaking a strict rule?"

"He banned you from touching another being?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm not allowed to interact with anyone," he sighed.

"Except for Gibson?" George started, but he shook his head.

"That's enough questions." Dream laid down in his bed, turning away from him, who sat beside him.

"Dream?" George asked, trying to get his attention. It didn't work. "Dream, give me your hand," he said, this time with more courage, causing him to turn around, catching his eyes.

George held out his hand to Dream, who looked at it in confusion and concern.

"George, I can't..." he mumbled.

"No one can see us. You can." He smiled at Dream.

Unsure, he watched his hand relax, waiting for him to eventually give in. George's hand made Dream feels safe in some way.

He let in a deep breath, closing his eyes. He let his palm slide into George's. Dream attempted to pull away, but he had closed his hand. He panicked for a few minutes before he hushed him, stroking his hand in a comforting way.

Dream let in for a little longer before asking George to let go. He was alert the whole time, ready to break up if anyone made it into the cabin.

"See, not everything is bad." He smiled at Dream.

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Stay calm, Stay Alive
Onyx

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