Unsolved Crimes Against Humanity

Part 20

Wilbur's eyes widened, and looked down as the ground began to crumble, an abyss of complete darkness surrounded him immediately as he took in a deep breath, his breathing growing unsteady and shaky. William fell directly into the abyss, and shouted for help, but there was no sound other than his breathing, and his heartbeat, which pounded at his chest abusively, painfully. This was the first time William had felt true pain in a while, and it didn't feel good whatsoever. He reached up to grab ahold of something, but all that was there was the darkness, which surrounded him in a dark, yet, almost calming warmth.

This isn't right. Make it stop! Help!!! He tried to speak, but his words only came out in thoughts. The silence grew louder, and anything that would normally have a sound was just as quiet.

The next thing that happened immediately fell upon Wilbur. A dark slab of concrete fell over his head, and he woke up. William woke up with a gasp of pain, his head throbbing continuously, and without remorse. He was in the same bed from before, laying next to and holding Friend. The sheep was sleeping peacefully, but William only felt pain. Constant pain, in every dimension.

What was that all about? He thought to himself, growing stiff from the discomfort he felt from what felt like a dream. A nightmare, perhaps.

It was a nightmare. He was sure of it! Wilbur gently pulled his arms away from Friend and got out of the bed, running over to the desk with a panicked feeling. He began to write down what had happened, but the thought melted onto the paper in drawings, rather than words. Once that was finished, Wilbur stepped back from the desk and stared at the papers, breathing heavily, extremely stressed. He backed into the door with a loud thump, stumbling over each footstep he took. He fell onto the floor and gripped onto his shirt and pulled it down, scratching painfully at his chests' bare skin.

He tried to speak up again, but it only felt more and more like the nightmare he had. William got up and opened the door, running out to speak to the ram that laid on the couch. Schlatt stared up at Wilbur and chuckled angrily, shaking his head.

"Don't you dare try and speak, you asshole. Go back and fuck yourself." He growled at William, pointing back toward the bedroom.

William shook his head vigorously, and rubbed over his neck. His expression was filled with worry, and he was still breathing rather quickly. The ram sat up and stood on his hoofs, looking up at Wilbur, giving a less angered look, and a slightly worried one instead.

"What the fuck happened? Is this some kind of joke? I swear to fucking god, if this is a joke, I'm gonna-"

Wilbur took Schlatt by the wrist and shook it lightly to get him to stop talking, and shook his head again. He took the ram's hand, putting it up to his arm after he had rolled his sleeve up, and smacked the ram's hand against his skin to get him to pinch Wilbur's arm. Schlatt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but pinched William's arm. William felt a little bit of pain from it, but it wasn't enough. The brit took Schlatt into the room and showed the drawings of his dream. Each paper not having any words made it difficult for the ram to understand, and he just rolled his eyes, scoffing with an annoyed tone.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, you fucking brit. This isn't fucking funny." He hissed at William, smacking the man's hand away before storming out of the room, grumbling nonsense to himself as he left.

Schlatt's reaction made the poor brit feel worse in the moment, and he sat down at the desk, trying to write down the words he needed to, to explain the dream. His hands shook too much, so each word he wrote down turned into what looked more like hieroglyphs, completely misunderstandable, hard to decode. William threw the pen down and took the papers he wrote down on, handing them to the lazed ram, and he looked at them, his eyes squinting as he tried to read what was on the paper.

"The fuck..?" He mumbled, holding the papers close to his face, before he put them aside and groaned, shaking his head as he rubbed his eyes. "Dude, I can't even read that shit. Why the fuck aren't you talking?" The ram said, putting his hands over his lap, looking up at Wilbur.

William pointed at the papers, and to his throat, before he stomped his foot on the ground to cause himself the littlest bit of pain to try and get something out, but there was nothing.

It feels so real, but this still isn't right. What is going on? He thought, letting out a deep sigh. This is a dream. It has to be. I can talk, but why isn't it working here?

William closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, before he walked out of the house and left, walking himself along the roads of the, now, fully destroyed nation he had built. He left the nation, and went across the river to a flattened terrain, sand at the edge, and strangely shaped mountains in the distance. It was starting to rain again. Wilbur looked in his pocket and found a small boat, which he took out and threw into the water. He got into the boat, but before anything else, he heard a small voice calling out to him.