Freedom?
TW: Prison, Torture, Potions, Injuries, Blood, PTSD, Bindness,
The rattling of the chains kept him awake. It wasn’t like he generally slept but letting your mind drift away for a few hours was a pleasure when your waking days were stuffed with screaming, bleeding, dying, and hurting.
When they first put the chains around his wrists it had hurt after a few days, nowadays he felt nothing. His wrists were rubbed raw, blood and skin were spread all over his arms from pulling on the chains too much. Normally he didn’t pull on them, not wanting to aggravate his skin further. But every day Quackity came to him, they got worse.
His head would be hanging low if it weren’t for the collar which tied his neck to the wall. His legs had been free for most of the time, but after he kicked Quackity too many times, trying to get away, they got chained to the floor too.
There was nothing he could do.
His fingers were trembling, even though there wasn’t a muscle in his body which was moving. It seemed like they wanted to grasp anything when there was nothing there.
Something was running down his face. Tears? Blood? Who knew? Dream stopped caring after a while. It’s not like he could wipe it away.
He probably looked pathetic. His former blond hair was brown from the blood, standing up in every direction. His once bright orange prison uniform was darkened and ripped in many places. The respawning system may repair his body but not his clothes.
It was a wonder that his mask was still on his face. Well, part of it. Quackity wanted to see one of his eyes, so he ripped away a part of the mask. It had been a dull green back then, now it was gray. Quackity hadn’t liked his eye, deciding he didn’t deserve to have two of them and promptly destroyed it, using the warden’s sword.
Dream had screamed in agony, begging for him to stop. Quackity had asked for the book but that was information he wasn’t able to give. If they knew the secrets of resurrection, his life would be worthless. Dream wasn’t stupid, he had always known the book will be a problem for him. People trying to stop him or take the power themselves.
Speaking of the devil, Dream knew the sounds of the prison by heart now and knew that the mechanism which had just been activated made the lava wall in front of him disappear.
He had kept up his strong façade for the last few days, but he was aware of the fact that if they kept going like that, Dream would break. Eventually. The worst about this all was that he couldn’t control his body, not anymore. If his body decided to tremble in fear, it would and there was nothing Dream could do to stop it.
Which was the case right now. He knew Quackity was standing with the warden on the other side of the lava curtain, just waiting to be able to come to his side. And his body knew that too. Dream was a smart man which made everything worse. He knew he was afraid, terrified what was about to come and he knew his body would react accordingly to his mind.
He also knew the second he would see Quackity, his body would start to protest. He would struggle, desperately trying to free himself. He knew, if he were to break his restrains, he would still be stuck in the cell but that didn’t stop him.
It was harder to see with only one eye. His right eye may still be working but the sweat, blood, and tears which ran down his face made it harder for him to see. Once his vision got darker, he knew the curtail had fallen. Even without directly seeing Quackity and Sam, he could still see two silhouettes. One big, one small. It could only be Quackity and Sam.
His body started resisting, like he predicted, throwing itself against the bindings, cutting off his blood flow. He chocked himself without wanting to, when his strained himself against the collar around his neck, trying to get free. A whimper left his mouth, and he tried to make himself as small as possible. He pulled his knees as close to his body as possible and hid his face in his shoulder. He rounded his back and tried to disappear into the hot obsidian which was burning his back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the taller silhouette carefully walking towards him, which confused Dream.
Why was Sam coming into the cell? Is he going to finish Dream once and for all? Didn’t they need him anymore?
Millions of thoughts ran through his head, one more horrible than the other, while the figure approached. Closing his eyes, he pressed himself even more against the obsidian behind him, tears threatening to fall from his eyes due to the pain.
The bridge stopped at his cell and Sam was there. He stood in front of him, his shadow casting Dream into a comfortable darkness, shielding him from the heat and blinding light of the lava. Sam was fully equipped. Potions were hanging on his belt, a rocked launcher was strapped onto his back, his netherite sword held tightly in his right hand.
Dream pressed his face even closer into the dirty fabric and his fingers tried to grasp as much of his hair as possible.
Sam stopped in front of him and hesitated. The only thing audible was the quiet crackling of the lava and Dream’s heavy and irregular breathing. The creeper hybrid kneeled down in front of him and rummaged in his bag. Was Sam responsible for torturing him now? Did Quackity become a guard, so it wouldn’t be too obvious when he visited him every day?
Suddenly he felt an extremely warm hand on his cheek. He flinched back, trying to pull away. The hand moved away and rested on his shoulder now, grounding him. He stopped struggling and trying to get away. He kept still. The only thing which was erratically moving was his chest.
A second hand moved to the back of his head, holding it tightly. A groan escaped Dream, when he felt the wound, which still hadn’t healed up yet, start bleeding again. Sam noticed that and looked at the blood which now covered his hand.
Dream pulled his shoulders up. He shouldn’t get the warden dirty. Now he had to wash his gloves because of Dream. He wanted to apologize but he knew he wasn’t allowed to talk until they gave their permission.
So, Dream tried to keep still while Sam moved his hand to his forehead, gently pushing it back. Dream tilted his head backwards without much resistance, it wasn’t like he could do much against it.
Sam said something but Dream didn’t understand it. His ears were filled with cotton and the now suddenly loud noises of the lava. He waited a few seconds until he lifted his hand from his shoulder onto his head. He pressed down onto two nerves next to his mouth and Dream automatically opened his mouth. A bottle was placed onto his lips and its content was poured into him.
Dream knew he should swallow the hot substance, even though his throat hurt. He was quite familiar with the potion. It was a regeneration potion.
Most of the times, Sam and Quackity only used it after they were finished with him, so he won’t die but using it before the torture even began was new. Maybe today was going to be an extra brutal session, so they had to prepare him.
A whine escaped him when the bottle left his mouth. Coughs were wrecking his body, leaving him to slump against the hot wall.
Sam put the bottle back and started searching for something in his bag once again. He pulled a little metal object out and came closer to Dream, who flinched back, trying to bring as much distance between the two as possible. Sam ignored him and started to work on the chains binding him to the wall.
He was acting so differently compared to any other day. Normally, he would only remove the chain connecting his collar to the wall and the chains binding his wrists to the wall but when Sam started working on the shackles around his legs he wondered.
What were they planning?
Once the chains around his legs were freed, Dream quickly crawled away from Sam, into his corner to his book chest. He could see Sam standing up from the corner of his eye, watching him silently.
Dream arrived at the chest, gripping it tightly. He was happy now. He was at a familiar place which brought him comfort. He liked his books. His thoughts were collected in them, so staying close to them felt like he was keeping his sanity.
Suddenly he heard heavy steps coming towards him.
He forgot Sam.
He shouldn’t have moved. He was going to get punished for doing something without their order. He basically ran away.
Sam asked him something again but before he could concentrate on what he was saying, Sam was already finished. Curling up in his corner, Dream wanted to beg for forgiveness, but they didn’t give him the permission to speak yet, which would only lead to more consequences.
Sam spoke again but Dream was panicking and couldn’t hear. Why was everything suddenly so loud? Why did Sam free his legs? Why couldn’t he understand what Sam was saying?
Dream was hyperventilating and he knew it. He slowly saw the familiar black void approaching in the corner of his eyes and welcomed the darkness which suddenly surrounded him.
