BLIND | DreamSMP

XV - Rebuilding a Family

The rest of the day dragged on in weighty silence, the kind of uneasy calm after a violent storm that carries with it intense significance buried beneath an inscrutable dark and cloudy sky. Phil cooked dinner for the three of them, a soup that would have been hearty if everything didn't feel so somber and gray, like a funeral procession dragged out to an unbearable extent, melancholy droning filling the mourners' ears until they wallow in self-pity and wish nothing more than for the service to end, tired of an infinite sorrow they can't seem to shed.

Techno carried his portion upstairs, and stayed in his room for the rest of the night, a guilty conscience weighing heavily on his mind.

Tommy ate on the couch he had grown to inhabit, miserably depressed by the muffled tension suffocating any chance of amicable conversation. Phil didn't bother trying to mitigate the simmering anxiety; he knew if he attempted to lift the dismal mood, emotions were likely to boil over.

Instead, he washed the dishes and tidied the house, straightening furniture and dusting knick-knacks; anything to keep his mind occupied.

When he ran out of things to clean, he headed outside to meticulously water and weed Techno's garden, leaving Tommy alone to dwell on his own abysmal thoughts, which skittered and jumped around his head like rabbits, too fast and abstract to grab onto or understand.

Eventually, his eyelids grew heavy, and a calming relief overtook him as he waited to be lifted by the wings of sleep into a dream world, where none of this was real, and he could rest in peace. Instead, thorns crept from the earth and dragged him down into a hollow nightmare.

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He stood at the edge of a faded brown cliff, staring at the misty ground below. A semicircle of steep mountains composed the craggy, desolate landscape surrounding him. Wind buffeted his body, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than staying upright.

His heart fell to his stomach as a small chunk of rock suddenly broke away from the ledge and dropped out of sight, leaving his right foot balancing on half-air, half unsteady precipice. Tommy tried to stumble back, but he was stuck in place, feet welded to the ground like a mannequin nailed into a display case.

Laughter sounded behind him, echoing loudly against the eerily silent peaks. Another gust of wind ruffled his hair, making him shiver.

The laughing stopped.

"You did this to yourself." A person behind him said in a conversational tone.

"W-what do you mean?"

"This wouldn't be happening if you weren't such an idiot."

"No! I didn't ask for this!"

Tommy began to panic, though he didn't quite understand why. He didn't know what the stranger was talking about, but the words spilled from his mouth like ants fleeing water, crawling over his tongue and surging out over his lips before he could stop them.

"Don't act like you had no control in this. We both know you could have stopped it."

"That's not true!"

"Last chance."

"For what!?" Tommy cried as another piece of the cliff crumbled beneath his feet, leaving him teetering on the edge.

"Too late."

A hand shoved him forwards- he felt his stomach drop- and then he was no longer on the precipice, but below it, falling, faster and faster as he gained speed, the wind tearing at his clothes and face and snatching the breath from his lungs as he tumbled through the air.