Stick to the Script

Chapter 27

*~-~-~-~-~POV Tommy~-~-~-~-~*

The light is blinding at first after being in darkness for so long, but I hear my name being called out again.

"What?", I mumble, blinking rapidly and rubbing my eyes. When my vision focuses I see that Dream is leaning over me, studying me. I yelp and launch backward, my back hitting the damp cell wall made up of crying obsidian. 

"Wake up", Dream says. "You're back!" 

"Hello?", I say more as a question, still trying to process what had happened. 

"Are you ok?" Dream asks, watching me. "So what was it like?"

"What was- what was what like?" 

"What was it like?", Dream repeats.

 "Void- it was dark. It was all dark", I pause and look around, my senses being overloaded. "What are these sounds?" 

"It was dark? Were there others there?", Dream pushes.

"There was Schlatt, there was Mexican Dream-" 

"You talked to Schlatt? How's Schlatt doing?", Dream interrupts.

"He's been very asleep, there are so many more drugs than alcohol", I say, shuddering at the memory. 

"What did it feel like?" 

"What did what feel like?" 

"Death!", Dream exclaims like it is obvious.

I'm taken aback by his insensitive forwardness. "You are a monster." 

"No, I'm no monster, I'm your friend. But tell me, what did it feel like? No one has even been dead and been back. I was honestly scared that it may not have worked."

"You were scared it wouldn't work?!", I yell.

"Well, I had never tried it." 

"Death- death felt like my body was taken apart and put back together again. And now I'm put back together again here. I felt stretched man. Is this-?" I reach out to Dream but slowly retract my arm. 

"This is real, Tommy." 

"Pinch me." 

Dream obliges, pinching my arm. Flashbacks to Dream tormenting me come crashing over me. Memories I thought I buried permanently were being revived just like I was. I scream, stumbling into the corner of the damp cell to avoid Dream. 

"Don't ever do that- don't ever do that!" Dream slowly makes his way over to me. "No no no no no", I can feel a panic attack rising with each step he takes towards me. 

"Watch out", he warns me, "the lava". 

I turn around to see I was in fact inches from plunging into the lava covering the entrance of the cell. We sit there in silence as I regain control over my breathing. When he sees fit, Dream resumes his interrogation. "So, who else was there?" 

"There was Mexican Dream, he was there, which was confusing, he was loud. And there was...", I scowl, "there was Wilbur". 

"Mmh- what was Wilbur like?", Dream asks with abnormal interest. 

"Wilbur- do you remember what Wilbur was like, here?" 

"Yeah! Wilbur was awesome!" 

"Wilbur was not awesome, Wilbur is not awesome, Wilbur will never be awesome!" There's another foreign noise causing me to look around wildly. "We're still in the prison."