I'm Not Tired (Please Let Me Sleep)

Chapter four

It's been a solid week since Tommy had left the Syndicate's base (or house?) and things had unfortunately gone back to normal. He had stayed awake for the first and second day, stocking up his fridge with the cheap no-name energy drink he found in this weird grocery store (L'Targay or something) and then he had dared to take a nap.

It was a foolish hope of his, to think Dream had actually given up on killing him after he got more than ten hours of sleep without him being able to do anything to Tommy. But, of course, that bastard had to be persistent.

He had actually seen the man in the dreamscape this time, not in his usual clothes but in some weird kind of suit. It was similar to the black body suits the Syndicate had worn, with the difference that his suit had green accents along the sleeves of his arms and on the sides of his waist. The man also wore a mask now, a hideous, giant porcelain mask with a smiley which looked like someone had handed a Sharpie to a toddler and let them roam free.

At first, Tommy wasn't actually sure whether that was truly Dream or not. After all, the man could make whatever he wanted to appear in his dreams, from wild rabid animals to literal zombies chasing him down.

Then he pulled out two switchblades and charged at Tommy and that's how he instantly knew it was him.

While Tommy survived the encounter, having shut his eyes tightly and counted down from thirty to zero once again, gritting his teeth while trying to ignore the pain of being kicked, stabbed over and over again, straight up tortured even, he didn't come out of the dreamscape unharmed.

He stared at his reflection in his bathroom mirror in muted terror, the dark eyebags nothing compared to the bruises lining his ribs now, at the exact spot where he had felt Dream kick and break his ribs. Tommy swallowed and then brought one hand up in front of his face, balling it into a fist and praying for perhaps the first time ever for this to be the dreamscape.

The fingers touched his palm.

This definitely has never happened before. Pressing down on the colourful skin he soon found that the bruises weren't actually just weird skin discolouration as he had hoped but actual bruises. They hurt, and it wasn't the dull kind of pain. It was actual pain.

He swallowed again and then checked his body over for more injuries, taking mental notes of the bruises on his back (one of which was shaped like a bloody shoe print) and the new scar right above his heart, just narrowly missing the organ which was keeping him alive (the exact spot where the pain from Dream stabbing him had almost been enough to pull him out of his calming mantra).

Welp, looks like he wouldn't get any more sleep any time soon.

Tommy sighed and left his bathroom, already on his way to the bedroom where his dresser stood open. Grabbing and putting on the first sweater that came into view, he then ruffled through his hair, grimacing a little bit when he couldn't card through the knots properly. He still had about an hour until he had to clock in, enough time to grab some more energy drinks from L'Targay and withdraw some money from the bank. It would definitely hurt his savings but his phone was gone and he really needed a new one which he'd hopefully get today before his shift. Surely the weird store sold phones too, right?

Nodding to himself, he grabbed his old backpack, smiling at the single fond memory that was attached to it (while foster care wasn't exactly the best time of his life, Sam buying the backpack definitely added to the happy memories) and then made his way out of the apartment complex.

It was warmer already, with June around the corner it was only a matter of time until he didn't need to wait too long anymore until he was able to wear shirts again, not having to bring a long-sleeved shirt everywhere.