We're Not Toys

Chapter 13

TW: Mentions of body mutilation, mentions of hallucinations, and mentions of torture

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Those two weeks came and went without incident. Ink got better, not completely better, but better. He and Dream did spend more time together, and it helped both of them immensely. Dream had his days where he could barely look at his friend, he was scared that the man looking back at him would be the one who caused him to be raped instead of the one who would do anything to protect him. Ink could understand, he knew why, he was horrible, he was a terrible person who had no way to make up for what he had done to him. He knew that even before he started his daily hour-long sessions with his psychologist, but they only served to make him gáfele worse. But did he not deserve this? Did he not deserve to feel horrible after what he did to Dream?

Dreams was raped because of him.

Dream tried to kill himself because of him.

Dream was hurting because of him.

Dream was broken because of him.

It was all his fault, he was no better than Nightmare of Killer. His psychologist helped him realise that Nightmare and Killer weren't good people, and he knew that, he believed that. He knew they were horrible, that they tortured and raped Dream. Dream didn't deserve that. But it wasn't that easy to fix his perspective and recondition him back to normal. They were horrible for what they did to his friend, but they loved him. He deserved what happened to him, he tried to run, he fought against them, he needed to be taught a lesson. They loved him. They loved him. They loved him. He wouldn't let anyone change that, he knew that. They didn't do anything to him other than things that needed to happen. He would never tell Dream that, or Cross, or Night, no one other than him and his psychiatrist knew how bad he really was. He would keep it that way. No matter what he had to do.

"Ink!" Dream said, snapping his fingers in front of his face and snapping him back into reality.

"S-sorry, what's going on?" He asked, looking around the room disorientedly.

"We are at the courthouse. Remember?" Dream asked.

"Oh... when did we get here?"

"Like five minutes ago. You have been zoned out since we left the hospital. Are you alright?"

"I... I wanna see them again... I mean... I think." Ink muttered, biting the inside of his mouth and looking to the closed door to the courtroom.

"Why the confusion?" Dream asked, trying his best to be sympathetic despite how he hated thinking that Ink might like seeing them again.

"I... care about them... but... but what they did to you..."

"What they did to us." Dream insisted.

"You didn't deserve it. I did. I'm horrible. You did nothing wrong." Ink replied.

Dream opened his mouth to talk, but was interrupted by Cross entering the room with a lawyer at his side. A few minutes later, through a different door, Nightmare and Killer entered, handcuffed and dressed in orange like a prisoner in a movie. Their conversation was cut short and they now paid attention to the main attraction of the courtroom. Nightmare and Killer hadn't noticed that they were there. They were hidden behind the rest of the people in the corner of the room for that exact purpose. The judge walked in and announced that they had already made their opening statements the previous day, and it was finally time to get into evidence. It took less than half an hour before the lawyer finally called on them.

"And next I would like to call Dream Joku to the stand as a witness." The lawyer said.

The courtroom erupted into whispers and Nightmare and Killer both looked around the room for the man in question. Dream sighed and stood up, the IV drip the hospital had given him still connected to his arm. He grabbed it and dragged it along with him as he made his way up to the stand to testify against them. He sighed, at first refusing to look at them, keeping his eyes on the floor, or on Cross or Night, even while he was being sworn in. But eventually he took a deep breath and looked up at them. They couldn't hurt him anywhere. He looked them right in the eyes, an act of defiance that he could only do because of his therapy and because of how they were handcuffed to the table in front of him. Cross's lawyer-or, his in a way-was the first allowed to question him, Dream was his witness after all.