Through It All ~ Dream Team SMP ✅

->Eight<-

I had been naive to think they'd take me straight back to my cell; to Wilbur.  I'd taken the King's property and he would go to any length to find where I hid it. This brings me to the present. The present contains me, a small room, the head of the Kingsguard, and a lot of blood. Well, I'm assuming you can connect the dots.

"Where is it? " Sap snarled. I looked up solemnly, unable to wipe away the blood trickling from my nose due to the overwhelming aching in my arms making it hurt when I moved.

"I don't know!" I cried, salty tears mingling with the red stains on my face. I screamed as the soldier aimed another blow to my head. At first, the shock of the hit, like before, absorbed the pain, and it took a while before I felt the hit truly. When I did, however, I couldn't stop my leg from shaking, and even biting my lip with such force I split the fragile skin couldn't stop me weeping.

I hadn't been lying. I didn't know where Mellohi was. Sure, I had stashed it in the ground, I knew that much, but where, I did not know. It was dark, and I had just been pushed off a roof, my spatial awareness wasn't sound.

"Why is such a young boy so intent on lying to authority." Sap gave a mock frown. I hated him imitating me. I felt so weak and stupid. I was a helpless little child. Even my thoughts betrayed me, as all I wanted at the moment was to run home to the farm, to my family.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to be over.

Sap didn't ask the question again, deigning that I'd got the message. He did stay consistent with my pain. I felt so weak that I could barely choke out a cry of pain as blow after blow rained down on me.

"I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW!" I screamed over and over again, like a breathless chant issuing from the ghost of a boy who was barely there anymore. I could barely distinguish the liquid on my face as either blood or tears.

My body numbed finally, no sharp stabs of hurt resonating around my broken form. I let my eyelids flutter shut, breathing heavily. At first, it was just one tear. Then another. Then another until I was weeping so chaotically I couldn't push air into my lungs. My eyes were raw and red. I gasped for breath, systematically running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to ground myself. I needed to focus on something. Now.

My name is Tommy Innitson. I'm sixteen years old. My friend Wilbur is waiting for me in my cell.

I couldn't breathe.

My name is Tommy Innitson. I'm sixteen years old.

I COULDN'T BREATHE!

My name is Tommy Innitson.

I COULDN'T-

Everything was calm. Like a lake without any ripples. I was aware I was lying down, but I couldn't describe anything about the surface. Not hot or cold, soft or hard. It simply was.

Sounds echoed around me in a weird fashion, like I was underwater. My breath escaped my lungs slowly and disparaged into the atmosphere around me smoothly. I tried to push myself up, but the air was heavy, I couldn't cut through.

There was a soft glow above me. At first, it stung my eyes to open them and see it properly. I closed them again, hissing in pain. I blinked rapidly a few times, and let myself adjust. Everything was blurry. I couldn't make out any proper shapes, only shadow, and light.

A silhouette leaned over me, a fuzzy outline in my line of sight. It was blocking the light. I frowned, the glow above me was nice, I wanted to look at it. I raised my hand to try and move the figure, only for an icy hand to grip my wrist and force it back down. I called out in shock from the cold, a twisted shriek like a guttural animal emerging from my throat.

"Tommy?" The voice sounded like it was far away. Even despite this, it was recognisable by the distinct accent.

Wilbur?

And just like that, it was as though my head broke the surface of the ocean I was trapped in. The soft glow above me was a harsh, leering flicker of candlelight. Sounds crammed themselves in my ear, from the drip of the leaking walls to my own laboured breathing. The shadow in front of my eyes solidified into the form of a certain curly haired revolutionary, who stared down at me with concern.

"Tommy?" He repeated. I sat up, flinching with the effort.

"Hey, Will..." I croaked.

"Bloody hell, what happened to you?" He regarded with a worried tone.

"I didn't tell them where it was." I smiled proudly. I hissed at the simple twist of my lips, the skin splitting open at the slight movement.

"What? Where what is?" Wilbur cocked his head to the side, confused.

"The thing... Dream's thing... Uh- weird object... Mellohi! That's what it was called." I snapped my fingers triumphantly. Will blinked a few times before shaking his head in disbelief.

"You were pretty out of it when he brought you back. I was worried you weren't going to make it." The beanie-wearing man confessed. I paled, it was that bad?

"Well, I'm okay now... Right?"

"What happened?" My face fell, remembering Lord George's words.

"I... Uh- I've been sentenced to death." I said, very quickly, trying to get the words out my mouth without crying again. The brunette blinked for a moment.

"Fuck."

I sighed. "What do I do?" I asked, hoping Wilbur had some miraculous plan to save me. The glint in his eye was promising.

"We do what I've been planning since those bastards put me in here." He was grinning. This should be good.

"What's that then?"

"We escape."

"How? This is the Palace Cells. They're practically a fortress in themselves." I pointed out. Maybe I had been wrong to so quickly trust Wilbur, as he was clearly a maniac.

"Ah, but you forget, we have a secret weapon." He smirked.

"Oh yeah? What's that..." I sighed, already resigning myself to my fate.

"Me."