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ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴍᴍʏ
two hours after the Christmas party had ended, Dream having gone back to his city, leaving Tommy only in his tent. The blonde boy was sitting on hid bed in his tent, staring at an old, tattered journal, the bindings coming undone more and more with each time Tommy opened it. Normally, the boy would be writing down the events that took place that day. He would put down what happened so that he wouldn't forget it, or lose his mind alone on his island.
But, as he stared at the journal, the faint lantern light filtering through the darkness like every other night, he didn't want to pick up the quill. Tommy didn't want to write down that he wasted his time throwing a party that no one came too except for the man instigated his exile. He didn't want to put words to the loneliness he felt, the betrayal. The people he used to call friends didn't even give him the light of day anymore, never gave his name a second thought. They forgot about him, everyone forgot about Tommy.
So the boy sat alone in his tent, the trident that Dream gifted him in the corner, and a pile of books in the corner. There was a few burnt pieces of paper, and a small party hat that was apart of the party decorations. Dream suggested that he keep it, as a reminder. As if the boy needed one. It was hard to forget no one cared for you.
Tommy stood abruptly, knocking over the balanced stack of filled journals as he grabbed at the new one and the party hat. The boy walked out of his tent with the lantern, and followed the small path to a fire pit, not wanting to do more damage to the earth around him. He held the book and party hat in one hand, and the burning lantern in the other. He stared at the ground for a moment longer before through the all of the items on the ground, including the lantern.
He watched at the pages of the book caught fire, and the colorful paper of the party hat shriveled up and turned to ash instantly. He stared at the pit with a frown on his face, but no tears in his eyes, he couldn't find the strength to cry. He's cried to much as it is. So instead of crying, he turned away from the fire, and walked straight for his tent, grabbing everything he could carry, and everything that would burn.
He grabbed every book he wrote, and every scrape piece of paper. He grabbed old socks, ones with too many holes in them to even be considered socks. He grabbed the trident Dream gave him, and brought it outside the tent, going for the small dying flame in that fire pit a few paces away from his tent. He threw the old socks in first. Then, page by page, Tommy burned the books he wrote.
He tore the pages out one by one, and watched as each one burned quickly, watch the flame consume the paper. He read a few pages over in his mind, he went through each book with an anger in his heart, a pain in his chest. He got tired of burning the pages after the first 13 books, and tuned to just throwing the whole book it. He found comfort in knowing that everything he wrote in those books was gone, and he would be too.
He waited until the last embers of the flame died out before going to the dark outline of a portal, purple sparks spitting out from the glass-like wall. The boy didn't hesitate as he walked through, didn't even flinch as he felt the blistering cold.
He didn't shiver, or didn't question his new surroundings. He didn't care of the strange beasts jumping from the dead landscape around him, all a monochrome pallet of red and black. He didn't stare at the pig like creatures that were in the distance, carrying large bags full of whatever valuables could be salvaged in this wasteland. The blond instead went straight for an edge.
He went for the one thing calling his name, and that thing was the edge that overlooked a large lava lake. Tommy could see the popping bubbles of the surface, but his body couldn't feel the heat.
He said nothing, watching as a few rocks break from the ledge, falling into the pit of lava. The boy smiles, watching as the scolding liquid dissolved the rocks, watched as it left nothing behind.
He took a small step forward, having no thoughts as he stared into the bright light that invaded his eyes.
He took another step towards the liquid, imagining how it will feel as it swallows his entire being.
One more step, Tommy could feel the flame inside him snuff out.
He has no thoughts as his heels were the only thing left on the ledge, noting coursing through his mind as he stared straight a head, no emotion displayed on his face.
