Reverie [The Distortionist x reader]

Chapter 6

(Art by raivi on Tumblr)

A monster, monster, monster, monster

Now run away, run away, run away

-----*-----

"Morning, Mr. Pierre." You twirl your fountain pen between your index and middle finger as you speak.

"Good morning, miss [L/N]."

"I'm going to ask you a few questions and be done with the interview. This won't waste much of your time," you assure.

Chris nods. His captivating eyes are intently focused on your face, full of energy as he had been at his trial. It's like he's trying to see through you.

You ask a few unimportant questions first for him to open up. He answers each one objectively, albeit with excitement, taking a concern off your mind. He'd cooperate. The only downside is that creepy smile that seemed to be plastered to his face.

You breathe deeply. It is time. You'd find out what the motive was, for better or for worse. "Mr. Pierre, why did you kill Nancy Elsner?"

Chris only tilts his head and continues smiling, his eyes consuming you. This is unlike his cooperativeness. Suddenly and without warning, his hands shoot out and grip yours. You don't even have time to gasp or jerk away before your vision becomes flooded by incomprehensible colors.

-----*-----

Once you awake from the unfurling daze, you find yourself in the same chair you'd been interviewing Chris on, in the same cell. However, reality is filtered into a boisterous version of itself, like in your dream. You rub your eyes, immediately looking at where Chris would be, possibilities of what happened racing in your mind's eye. The chair is devoid of him. You look outside of the twisted bars, where Adres would be. The space was also empty.

You can hear your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. The rhythmic thumping seems to repeat throughout the cell. Why are you here, you ask? You attempt to slow your thoughts so you can comprehend them.

The obvious truth is that it was a dream. Of course. It's the only explanation. You revisited last night's dream.

Calmed by the thought, your vision flits to the corners of the cell. A figure darkened until it was unrecognizable leans on one of the corners, staring right at you.

You are about to think it was the same person from your first dream, but the silhouette gives way to reveal Christopher. He isn't displayed in strange colors; he, too, is monochrome.

"Mr. Pierre...?" you try. "Why are you in my dream?" The question isn't truly directed at him. It's silly to ask a character in your sleep why he is there.

"Ah, a dream." He seems to understand your own words more than you do. He then answers your question, despite not having to. "There's no rhyme nor reason for things in dreams, don't you agree? I'm here to represent what you feel."

You chuckle a little. "I fell asleep during an interview... Gosh, I'm out of touch, aren't I?"

"Don't blame yourself," Chris says. After a second searching for an elusive continuation to his speech, he says "You must have been stressed lately, writing about a murderer and such."

"A cold-blooded murderer, yeah," you add, slightly bitterly. "But that isn't an excuse. This is ridiculous. I should wake up."

"No," Christopher says harshly. "Not yet."