Tommy and Tubbo's Survival Guide to the End of The World

Everything Goes to Hell (Part Two)

tw: tried dissociation and insanity, and heavy[?] gore. there will be a tw in the chapter for the gore

remember a few chapters ago i said dream and gogy were two [2] near death experiences away from losing their goddmned minds? take the meme as a warning

[Edit: i forgot to add an important detail and decided to just take it as an opportunity to fix minor mistakes. no need to reread]

gogy was screaming for dream in the last chapter!! not tommy!! sorry for the confusion!

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*Dream POV*

Someone is going to die.

Warm breath passed from my lips as George's voice, once so melodious and sweet, now haunting and horrific as it thrashed mercilessly against my ears, consuming my being entirely. The sheer and utter despair on his face as his body was peppered with blades, his limp body dousing the moon-lit streets in nightmarish mutilation alongside the vivid, unnatural blood that poured from his frail body. He lay absolutely still, eyes still reaching out for me silently through their anguished lifelessness.

The water around my ankles suddenly chilled my entire body, reaching all the way up to my eyes, forcing myself to observe him in frightening clarity, all the way from the way his mouth was still twisted into a wail to how his hair rested against his rigid face. My stomach felt like retching itself through a bloody esophagus, my ribs suddenly too tight for my lungs as they struggled for breath. A pain like nothing I'd ever felt before ravaged my body from the inside out, but my vocal cords refused to scream, holding it all in as my body shook ferociously.

I promised I'd keep him safe, that no matter what, I would protect him, even if it meant sacrificing my own life. But here I am, alive, and George's corpse sunken in the stained water.

There was a child besides me. Its blond hair was almost long enough to cover its eyes, but not quite enough to hide the dismay in them, clothes tattered in an X-shape across the chest, where blood was flowing freely out of, dribbling down its body and down into the murk below in grotesque spurts and gurgles. There were so many emotions on such a young face, and I recognized only a handful of them, because they were the same resonating within me at the moment, the rest blocked out by the incomparable amount of guilt racking my soul.

We were supposed to protect each other, defending each other's vulnerabilities with something I cared for more than anything in the world: Trust. George told me I couldn't protect both ourselves and the child in front of me, he told me, told me, told me, told me so many times, and I simply didn't listen, saving it anyway, at the expense of the most precious thing I had left. My treasured friend remained silent, eyes still following me, betrayed and hopeless.

Another, darker-haired child struggled to make its way back up to a standing position, a nasty gash releasing the crimson I'd become too familiar with down a rasped cheek, starting to pool on its neck, face contorted into an agonized wince as it clutched its upper arm in a fitful grasp. Then it saw my George, and another type of pain joined its physical one, body swaying as tears fell down, joining the blood in an appalling mixture.

I trust you, Clay. His voice continued whispering in my ear, and my arm twitched, and suddenly, I felt something slip away.

There was a completely feral, soul-splitting scream as someone moved, their body overcome with so much rage and utter torment that it couldn't stop shaking, the sounds of affliction in their soul piercing through the night. George's last, desperate plea for me was still wrenching my innards, only a fraction of his suffering reaching my ears before he was brutally massacred in front of me. And the culprits were still standing, still breathing their undeserving air, whereas George's lungs lay motionless, face forever cursed to never smile again.