Sander sides one-shots

Pt. 2 The Dream of a Peaceful Sleep

TW: Blood and Gore, vivid descriptions of Violence, a n g s t, Demon nightmare creature thing, burns, close to character death.
A/N: Hi! I'm back after months of not writing docs whatsoever. Someone commented the ao3 version of this for me to continue on this, at first I forgot that I even created this thing, but here I am. Writing another Sander Sides fic after not doing it for ages. My punctuation is rough as well as my grammar so please excuse that. I also am v e r y rusty at writing the Sides so I stuck to descriptions this round, hope ya don't mind that. (Also I didn't edit this after I wrote this so expect spelling errors.)
And without further ado: The second chapter of The Dream of a Peaceful Sleep.

"Roman!" Patton scolded, "you know that you need more rest than that!"

Roman looked at his feet as guilt came crashing down on him, "I know."

"Why have you been hiding this from us? We could've assisted you in whatever situation that you are in." 

"I am aware Logan."

"Why on earth did you do this to yourself?! This is obviously hurting and keeping things to yourself only makes things grow worse."

Roman slammed his fists on the table making everyone jump, "I know alright! I am well aware of what I'm doing to myself and I'm not able to stop so just stop talking about it!" Roman quickly got out of his chair and ran to his room and locked the door as soon as he entered.

Roman sighed as he let himself slowly slide down the door. His anger overpowered his exhaustion and that's good for now.

He can't sleep.

He won't sleep.

Cause if he does the nightmares will get him. Even more so than they already have.

He looks at the clock, it's been almost five minutes after the nightmare scratched him with its long claws that drip, ooze, burn, sear, singe.

He pushes himself off the floor, off the door, off the thing the others were pounding and calling his name. The others who were worried, scared, concerned, confused, needed answers. The ones he will now have to push away because they know.

With a concerning amount of effort, Roman walks over to the mirror and looks at the burn.

It's been six minutes.

It's time.

Small black beads of something start to seep out of the injury. Roman grabs his sword.

the small black beads start to seep out of the wound quicker and quicker, the burn is ripped open from the black substance pushing, ripping, tearing, slashing, severing, breaking. The black substance is joined with a bright crimson red.

Roman screams.

The pounding on the door stops.

And then it starts again, but this time it's louder, more deliberate, more forceful.
The door groans as the worried people on the other side try to break down the door.

Now the pounding on the door doesn't stop, and neither do the screams.

The dark mass is now pooling on the floor, flowing from Roman's neck. It's speeding up now, forcing even more of itself out of the wound. There is too much of the black matter for it to have just been in the cut. Roman can feel it moving through his veins. climbing, shifting, forcing itself up and out of the injury.

The mass is moving now. Moving up and forming a pillar the size of a human being.

The door is rattling dangerously now, the wood cracking and breaking.

Roman want's to yell at the others to run, to hide, to flee. He can't risk them getting hurt. But he can't yell. He is in too much pain even call out now, even if he tried the only thing coming out of his mouth would be a painful exhale of air.

The Black mass swirls with crimson red liquid like oil and water in an attempt to be mixed together. Roman's skin is now white as snow.

The black matter is changing now, growing appendages, none of them are in the right places, there are too many of some limbs, too few of others. 

A giant CRACK!  shook the walls of Roman's room as the door broke in half. Roman's vision blurred. He could only see the vague shapes of the others now. He wanted so much for them to run and forget him, but it was too late now. The door was open. There is no place that the thing in front of Roman can't find.

The others looked at the now fully formed nightmare in front of Roman. It's too many eyes made of their friend's blood stared at them. It's too many mouths filled with dripping black fangs drooled and growled.

The blood loss and the exhaustion from not sleeping for, oh god, when was the last time he slept? Has it been weeks? Months? Years? Well, that doesn't matter now.

He drops his sword. It slides across the floor towards the others. He can't see anymore, His vision has turned black, and his thoughts died as he passed out.

...

To be Continued?