The Death That Follows

Accident

TW: DNF, Mention of Violence

George

I got into the car happier than I had ever been. Dream was mine. Mine, and no one else's. I kept repeating that fact in my head, still unable to believe it. My new ring fit perfectly on my finger, and it seemed to hold my heart under its gold plating.

But when I looked at Dream, something was wrong. He was fidgeting more than normal, something he only did when he was panicking.

"Are you okay?" I asked, worried it was something to do with our engagement.

"Yeah, I'm just worried, I guess. I want to be enough for you. But I don't think I can be." He said, and I looked over at him, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while I took his with my open one.

"Dream. You are perfect. I am so lucky. . ."

"George! TRUCK!" Dream screamed, cutting off his train of thought. Along with the impact of hitting a cement truck.

Dream

I woke up to a white, sterile ceiling, something making my head fuzzy. I tried to move my hand, but I couldn't. I looked down, fighting a raging headache, to see I was handcuffed to a high-railed bed. A hospital bed.

"Ah, Clay, is it? You're awake." I practically jumped out of my handcuff when I saw a man in blue scrubs standing in the corner of my room.

"George." I wheezed, barely able to talk.

"Your fiance, correct? Don't worry, he is okay. A bit bruised and battered, but no serious damage." The doctor said, and I let out a raspy sigh of relief.

"You, on the other hand, are quite the spectacle. We brought you in here, clinging to George, both of you unconscious. You seemed fine while we brought you to the hospital, but the moment we separated you and your fiance, even though you had a bad concussion and were half asleep, you attacked the nurses trying to take him away. You took out three of our strongest security before we could contain you. You're lucky you're not waking up in jail." He said, folding his arms.

"Can I see him?" I begged, not caring about what I had done.

"I don't know. You are still not in your right mind." He said, and I heard the door open on the other side of the room.

"Dream?" A voice said, and I almost cried when I saw Sapnap. "Dream!" He exclaimed again, running to my bed and hugging me tightly, causing my head to pound.

"Excuse me, sir." The doctor said, lifting his beaklike nose annoyingly. "Only family members are allowed to be here."

"You will let me see my —--- best friend, or you won't be able to see anyone ever again." Sapnap snarled, his eyes burning with an inhuman flame that scared the doctor into silence.

"George. Have you seen him?" I begged, wishing I could reach out to take Sap's shoulders, do something other than sit here, useless.

"Yeah. He is okay, Dream. Honestly, you look worse than he does." Sapnap said, and he snapped his fingers, pointing to the chains.

"You gonna do anything about this?" He snarled, and the doctor scurried forward like a panicked chicken to unlock the cuffs.

"You asked him?" Sapnap asked as he helped me out of my bed, my thin hospital gown scratching against my bare legs.

"We asked each other, actually." I said, and Sap smiled.

"I told Karl this would happen. You said yes, right?" He demanded, and I nodded, and immediately regretted it when my brain rattled in my skull. "Well then, let's say hi to your fiancé."

I hesitated outside or George's room for a moment, the pit of dread that used to be my stomach rearing its ugly, bestial head. I had done this. I knew it. That. . . thing told me so. I thought it was a dream, at first. My imagination haunting me. But, in the moments before my head slammed against the dashboard, I saw the fear in George's eyes, and I knew that it was because of me. I knew that that was a warning. My demon telling me that he would deliver.

"You okay?" Sapnap asked, and I nodded, swallowing. I knew what I had to do.

"Will you stay out here for a moment?" I asked, and Sap looked startled, but agreed.

I stepped in the room to see George sitting up in bed, a book resting on his lap. It reminded me of only a couple days before, when I could still breathe.

"Are you okay?" I asked, standing beside his bed.

"Yes, I'm alright. How about you?" He asked, and I smiled about the worry in his eyes. Even though I was the one who put him in this infernal bed.

"Thinking." I said, making my face contort. Every muscle in my body tensed, telling me to abort my mission. But It had to be done. I'm playing a game and making the rules, drawing out pain and killing off fools. I want your happiness, you get my pain. You will live, they will die, until I reign.

"About what?" George asked, wincing as he sat up more, and I wanted to help him, to protect him, to make him better, but I couldn't. Not anymore.

"I thought I loved you, George. I thought we were meant for eachother, but I was wrong. I don't love you, George. I don't think I ever have. You were just. . . a distraction." I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to tear myself apart from the inside out until all that was left was my black, shattered heart.

Tears came to George's eyes, and I had to stop my own from betraying me.

"What? What are you talking about?" He asked desperately, and I wanted to tell him it was a joke. That it wasn't me. But I couldn't.

"You aren't enough for me, George. I thought you could be the one, I really did, but I guess people change." I mustered up every single bit of strength I had, and pulled my ring off my finger. My beautiful ring that I had thought would stay with me forever.

"Dream." George said, his voice wavering as tears streamed down his cheeks like waterfalls.

And I turned. I turned my back on the love of my life, on my world, on my heart, and left.