King of the Cell (DNF)

Chapter 42: Dream

Dream POV.

A pair of warm hands were running through my hair when I woke up, and my eyes warily opened to see George sitting over me and grinning down at me. “Hello,” he greeted playfully, not moving his hands as he spoke.
“Hello,” I mimicked, a grin slowly appearing on my face.

His hands continued to play with my hair, braiding a couple of strands together. “I hope that I didn’t wake you.” The brunette continued.
“Don’t worry,” I responded. “You didn’t. You braiding my hair is kind of nice though.”
“Yeah, I’m going to make you look so pretty.” He teased playfully.

“I’ve always been pretty.” I respond with a hum, making him burst out in laughter. The two of us both chuckled for a moment before I sat up. George grumbled out a couple complaints before leaning back and letting me brush out the braids. “There, just as pretty as I was before.” I proudly claimed.

George laughed before laying back down, his hands wrapped around my shoulders to pull me with him. I didn’t get any explanation as he began snuggling into my bare chest, motioning for my arms to wrap around his back. A content sigh fell from his lips as I obliged, with an expression on his face that made me feel giddy.

We laid contently wrapped around each other for a few moments before my eyes widened. I was staring at the roof, but it wasn’t the roof of our cell. It was the wooden roof of a bedroom. A light dangled directly over the pair of us. Confused, I sat up, earning some annoyed grumbles from the brunette, but I ignored them as I turned to look around.

There were framed photos on several of the walls, and a window with grey curtains pulled over it to separate us from the light of the morning. “What’s going on?” I questioned warily, glancing back over at the brunette. I expected an answer but instead he gave me a worried look.

“George, what’s going on?” I repeated after not getting an answer straight away. My eyes darted back and forth, trying to figure out where we were and what was going on and why we weren't in our cell.
“Dream, are you alright?” he spoke softly, in a tone that made me more worried. George’s hands moved up to my cheek and looked into my eyes. “Are you feeling sick?”

“No, I’m not.” I answered with a shake of my head, feeling sweat forming on my face as I tried to figure out what was going on. George’s worried gaze somehow relaxed me more, knowing that if he was calm then we’d probably be somewhere safe.

“Good,” the brunette hummed before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We need to get up then. I want to make sure we are up before the boys are awake.”
“The boys?” I questioned, watching as George climbed out of the bed and stretched.
“Yes of course. Ryan and Richie, our two sons.” George spoke as though it was obvious.

I stared at the brunette in disbelief, watching as he turned away from me so that he could get changed. “We have sons?” I questioned loudly, causing him to turn and glare at me.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at Dream, but it’s not funny, and keep your voice down or you’ll wake them up.”

My mouth fell open in confusion as the brunette went back to changing. When he finished he walked out of the bedroom door and disappeared down a hallway. For a few moments I sat there, unsure of what I should do as I tried to think what could be going on.

Last night when I went to sleep I was certain that I was in my cell with George, huddled together on the small prison bed. Now though we were in some sort of house, with two sons, and I had no clue what was going on. Was I going insane? Was all of this some sort of dream? A drug based fantasy? Maybe just my wandering mind?

Or perhaps the prison was the dream, some creation from my own imagination and my real world was this family I seemed to have made with George. My eyes warily drifted over to the photos on the wall, seeing different situations that we’d been in. Us at our wedding, us laying on the beach, us with a small child in a Halloween costume.

If this was the dream world, then it seemed like a dream to live in. I mean, I loved the thrill of a life of crime, however a life with a family would have been nice. And George, he admittedly was somebody that I would be happy to share a life with. He was sweet, and I loved being able to be around him.

The sound of an insufferable baby crying suddenly began echoing through the halls. George’s voice called through to me, telling me to go get ‘Ryan’, who must be the baby. I shakily stood up to comply before walking towards the door of the bedroom. I walked into the narrow hallway and began looking for the crying baby.

As I walked I couldn’t help but peak into the other rooms. There was a bedroom that appeared to belong to a teenage boy, a bathroom, an office, and a room that seemed to be a guest room based on its lack of personal items. The door for the baby’s bedroom was at the very end of the hallway, painted in a soft array of colours.

I wasn’t too sure about what I should do when I saw a small baby in a crib bawling loudly. Apart from my younger sister I had never been around babies, and even that was years ago. It couldn’t be too hard though, I decided as I lifted him up into my arms. Surprisingly that was enough, since the baby quickly began to quieten down as he looked up at me with his big eyes.

It was easy to notice the similarities between the small child in my hands and George. The hair that was beginning to grow on his small head was a similar brown, although blurred in with a red tinge. His eyes were a pretty blue which reminded me of the ocean and they were just as wide and curious as George's were.

I assumed that Ryan must be adopted or at least only related to George, based on the lack of similarities between him and me. Then again that would be obvious since there was no way the two of us could convince a child together. But I did know, whether this world was the dream or not, that I loved the baby either way, and he was still a young (possibly stupid) baby, but he loves me too.

I couldn’t help but coo at the baby, finding it surprisingly adorable, even as it moved my fingers into its mouth with mini hands and began sucking on it. The baby drool didn’t even bother me as I carried the baby out in the direction of the kitchen, or at least where I assumed the kitchen was.

When I came face to face with George he gave a disappointed sigh. “Dream, I’ve told you not to let him do that.” He said as he approached the two of us with a bottle of milk. “Pass him here and I’ll feed him.” Without complaint I passed over the child, who let out gurgling noises when I moved my fingers out from his mouth.

The baby grew quiet again when the bottle was moved to his lips and he began contently drinking it. A loving expression was on the brunette’s face while he looked at the child in his arms, but then he turned to look up at me and in a firm voice told me ‘go wash the baby slobber off your hands’.

As I walked over to the kitchen sink to do so I glanced over my shoulder at him and I couldn’t help but ask, ‘aren’t we meant to be in prison?’ I knew it probably wasn’t something that I should ask, but I did.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He questioned, looking away from the baby and up at me.

“You know what I mean,” I continued, trying to make it so I didn’t sound too crazy.
“Well yeah, I know what you mean. We got out of prison and we started up this life. You helped me get out of there when I was falsely accused.” He explained. “Then we got this house and had two kids.”

“So we escaped?” I questioned before relaxing slightly when I got a nod. “Good,” I huffed.
“Why are you asking?” George questioned, but then he paused when  he noticed the bottle was empty and he lowered it away from the baby’s lips.
“Nevermind. It must have just been a dream,” I stated. “Or some sort of flashback.”

“Well at least it seems to be over now.” He hummed, kissing me on the cheek. “And that means that we can be here as a family.” The two of us moved over to the couch, holding the baby between us.

I couldn’t help but smile at this life. At me being with George and starting a family. Honestly I hadn’t thought about this for a while, but being with him and having a family was one of the best things that could possibly happen.
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1617 words

Ryan and Richie. Do people who have read my other books remember them and Richie's great one-liners or is it just me?