The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams
The Amended Edition
Chapter 2 | Chapter 4
Chapter 3: Beat but Never Broken
TW: (as always the TS's will contain spoilers) alright y'all, here come the real tw's xD Obviously you guys are pretty familiar with this series and what to expect, but here we go nonetheless. In this chapter, you can expect lots of existential dread that comes with realizing you knew absolutely nothing, Roderick's beatings begin so obviously blood, abuse, and the like. Penelope's parents make an appearance, and you know that goes so well. More mentions of abuse, abandonment, mentions of selling a person and a little mix of fluff and angst to end our chapter with!
As always, enjoy!
The silence was maddening. Even the noises the guards made as they watched the Sandman and I from afar sounded as though they were miles away. It reminded me of my “dreams”, the far-off sounds of pages turning and hushed conversations I couldn’t understand. My eyes drifted to the glass ball, to the man still sitting within it like some statue. Can he even hear anything from in there?
Despite the lingering anger I felt towards the trapped god, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. I’d only been subjected to the basement for a few weeks, and I was already going insane. I couldn’t imagine spending years in a fishbowl on display for an old pervert and his cronies. It was obvious he didn’t need to worry about the mundane things, such as starvation or thirst. The Sandman never seemed to need anything… though that might’ve just been my human way of thinking. Just because he didn’t die from not eating or sleeping didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t require those things.
My list of questions had grown nearly endless the longer I sat among the strange runes and guards and the imprisoned god. How long has he been down here? Where did he come from? What strange powers does he have? How did Roderick manage to trap him? But, chief among them was one singular question: If he’s real, what else is?
I’d spent the majority of my life being told that magic was just another part of made-up children’s stories, and that had been somewhat of a relief. If magic were fake, then it only made sense, in my mind at least, that true love and happily ever afters were also fake - stories conjured up the same way magic had been. The bitterness I’d felt, the one that had pushed me to pack my things and run away from home, had been validated by the facts I had. Now, though… now everything felt different.
If magic is real, I thought to myself, watching this strange being as intently as he watched me, then what else do I have wrong?
No words had been exchanged between us, and from what little information I could gather, no words would be. The Sandman, it seemed, was playing the quiet game with Roderick Burgess, and - judging by the way the old man would saunter in with his inflated ego and list of demands, and leave with a slew of curses - he was winning. Though I hated to admit it - that small child within me, still clinging to her utter hatred of the dream god that had cursed her so - his willpower was impressive.
Roderick was at it again, stalking around the cage like a lion and reciting that damned list like a poet. I’d slumped against the pillar, watching with exhausted disinterest. I'd shifted this way and that, the sharp pain of the chain digging into my already raw skin drew a hiss from my lips.
The Sandman’s pools of darkness flashed to me, and a wave of something unfamiliar washed over me. Was he concerned? Or had my sudden noise startled him?
Roderick’s eyes moved too, flickering between the two of us as if there was anything to see. He hummed, “You will speak to me. Or I shall have no choice but to resort to more unsavory methods.”
The Sandman's eyes shifted again, meeting the old man’s gaze with a cold stare and his usual emotionless face. In the reflection in the glass, I could see the anger in Roderick's face grow as he stared down at the man. “I am not an evil man. But, I am not above hurting an innocent girl to force that stiff tongue of yours.”
Fear crushed the air from my lungs as quickly and painfully as a rock would have. I’d been beaten before. I knew what was coming, but it did little to alleviate that fear. I closed my eyes, repeating the words I would when my father would finally snap. I will not let him win.
I breathed. In and out. In and out. Forcing myself to keep breathing steadily, I vowed silently that nothing he said or did would break me. I didn't know what power my cellmate had, but I knew Roderick didn't deserve it. He'd use it to bolster his own power… to take over the world and have everyone bowing to his every whim. Powerless as I was, just a girl in a basement, I refused to let that happen.
When he finally turned and grabbed me, I could only hope that the Sandman would not relent.
*
Fear filled him, the girls, and his own. Morpheus watched helplessly from his prison as Roderick turned away from him with a sneer and took a handful of the girl’s hair. “Speak now, or she shall suffer for you!”
Even with her hair wrapped around the old man’s hand and her body twisted in an unnatural position, the girl did not cry. Above her fear, above the pinpricks of pain he could feel echoing through her, Morpheus felt the mortal steel herself. She breathed in and out, gritting her teeth and swallowing the cry of pain until all that remained within her lungs was the burning fire of her will.
If she did not intend to break, then neither would he.
He watched every second of the beating, memorizing the sound of Roderick’s fist striking her flesh. Every moment of cruelty, every mark inflicted by the Burgess’ hands, he would remember. If this girl, what she was, were indeed real, Dream would recount their crimes against her when he had his vengeance.
Roderick left angry, as he often did, spewing threats as he slammed the gate closed and stormed up the stairs. Dream couldn’t know how long had passed, and such seemed irrelevant as he watched the girl settle onto the floor. Every movement was followed by a wince and stifled cry. Though he wasn’t fond of her, though he still did not trust her, he knew she didn’t deserve this. He’d blame his worry on the fact that she would one day break and find a way to betray him to stop her own suffering.
“Don’t worry about me, Sandy, I… I’ve had worse.” Her eyes met his just as his face twisted at the name she’d called him. Sandy? Sandy? His lips parted, the words hanging on his tongue, but the sight of her wide smile stopped him.
Even after being beaten, even after years believing he’d stolen her dreams, she spared him a smile. This girl looked up at him like she actually cared about him, like she’d known him far longer than a mere handful of days. What surprised him more, however, was that he, Dream of the Endless, felt the same.
Morpheus could feel his anger, along with the fleeting sensations of pain and the hate that had kept him alive for so long, now fade away the longer he looked down at her. Her eyes sparkled, two stars that almost mirrored his own shining back at him in the dark. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you or anything. I still fully intend to throttle you whenever we get out of here.”
He practically rolled his eyes, his annoyance and tepid humor only making that smile of hers grow as she filled the silence with her voice. Though Morpheus didn’t really know what she was talking about, he found he didn’t care. So long as her voice kept the dark at bay, he’d listen.
Perhaps… If, of course, she was who - what - she appeared to be, she was not as bad as he’d thought.
*
The weeks quickly turned to a month, and though Roderick’s beatings became a new normal, it wasn’t anything new. My father had beaten me plenty of times before. My unhinged rantings to the ever-quiet Sandman were, however, new.
At first, I couldn’t really tell if he could even hear me, but the longer I talked, the more intense the sensations and feelings that were not mine grew. That and the Sandman’s eyes practically gave away everything he didn’t say, to me at least. Glances and phantom feelings. It was insane, but given all I’d seen so far, it wasn’t any more or less crazy. Whether he cared or not about the random topics I’d taken to rambling about remained a mystery.
“How would an old woman go about living in a shoe anyway?” I asked, that day’s ranting, having been on fairytale stories, I found odd. “Was it a regular-sized shoe and a tiny old woman? Or was the shoe a giant shoe, and the woman was regular-sized? And what kind of person looks at a shoe, giant or otherwise, and thinks, ‘Oh yes, this is an exquisite shoe! It would make a lovely house!’? And, do you think she invited people over for tea?”
There was the faintest ripple of amusement in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t say no to many invitations at present, but I think I’d seriously consider things before I had tea in a shoe. That is, if I could even fit inside.”
My mind wandered through stories, old women in shoes, tiny people flying around helping the seasons change. “Are fairies real?”
The Sandman said nothing, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that made my own sparkle.
Before I could ask more, the gate screeched open, and familiar footsteps echoed as they hesitantly walked across the basement floor. The Sandman’s eyes narrowed, and my head turned, meeting the gaze of my timid mother as she stared down at me. For a moment, I felt relieved, like breath could finally fill my lungs as I stood with a smile. “Mother!”
She smiled, tears in her eyes as she took a half step towards me. Then, in an instant, the relief was gone. My father practically shoved past her, belt already in hand and fire in his eyes. “You think you can just run off and leave me with nothin’?”
The belt struck me across the face, as it had so many times before, and my body reacted on instinct. I fell to the floor, curling into a ball with my hands shielding my head as my father began his relentless assault. The fine leather would leave welts on my skin, his fists would leave bruises, and his newly polished shoes would break a rib or two. I’d grit my teeth and hold back the tears until they were gone. I’d harden myself and then crumble to dust later, but I’d survive. Just as I always did.
It was my mother’s voice that finally broke through to him, shaking as she desperately called out his name, “Edward, please.”
My father’s ire switched in seconds, a slap echoing through the dark basement. “You want some too?”
“We’re guests,” my mother said. “I simply don’t wish to offend.”
“Offend?” Roderick asked. “Oh, you could never offend me, Mrs. Barlow. Your husband and I are close friends after all.”
And there it was. My father had gotten the one thing he really wanted. Status. Power. He has no use left for me, I thought. Once, it would have been a glad thing, but now… now I was trapped here, unable to run off and live the life I'd wanted so desperately. Now I knew nothing was standing between me and Roderick Burgess.
“No matter,” father said, eyes drifting towards the glass cage and the man glaring at him. “This is it, then? Your prize?”
Roderick laughed then. “Oh, yes.”
“Huh, I thought he’d be a bit… bigger.”
“He is quite the specimen, I assure you.”
“And you think he’s taken a liking to my girl?”
“I do,” Roderick said with a pointed look at the Sandman.
“Least someone can get some use from her.” Father grinned then, putting his hand in his pockets. “So, let’s talk price, Roderick, dear boy.”
The old man grinned back. “Shall we discuss it over drinks in the parlor?”
With a clap to his shoulder, my father strode past me as though I were nothing. I suppose to him I was nothing. “You old snake you, always saying just the right things!”
My mother stood in the corner of the basement, teary eyes fixed on me. With a soft, broken whisper, I called out to her like a child, “Mother… please.”
“Woman!” My father yelled from the stairs.
With a jump, my mother tore her eyes from me and followed after him like a dog.
My breath stuttered as I looked up at the closed gate, and when the sounds of voices finally faded, I let the burning tears free. I cried in the silence for what felt like hours, and perhaps it was. The Sandman watched from his cage, sorrow and guilt and anger humming in the air like lightning.
I didn’t need Roderick to return to know the truth. My parents had sold me. My father’s agreement didn't surprise me, especially not if Roderick had offered him a cut of whatever wealth he thought the Sandman would give him. But, even knowing that my mother was powerless to stop any of this, I still felt betrayed. How much had Roderick given them? I wondered. What price had my father deemed fair?
Eventually, the devil himself returned with a parchment in his hands and a victorious grin plastered onto his face. He leaned down, petting my hair like I was some prized show dog. “You belong to me now, just as much as he does.”
I grit my teeth and pulled my head away from his hand. “Go to hell.”
With a deep laugh, he glanced at the man in the glass and smiled widely. “If I'm right about you, hell won't be an issue. Now… I have what you want.” He held up the paper, the deed that marked my sale. “Speak to me. Give me what I ask, and I shall release you. You’ll hold the deed to her life in your hands, and you can do whatever you wish with her.”
Even without words, the disgust was evident on the Sandman’s face as he stared back at Roderick.
“No?” He asked, looking back at me with a wicked grin. “Perhaps I’ll find another use for her then.”
I spat at him.
“I’ll give you the night to think it over.” Roderick made his way out of the basement, leaving the Sandman and me in an uncomfortably tense silence.
After a long moment, I shook my head and forced the pain, sorrow, and fear from my mind. Wiping my eyes, I looked back at the Sandman and smiled again. “So… Fairies, that’s where we left off, right?”
He didn’t smile back, but the darkness in his eyes subsided, and that glow within them that I’d come to find most precious returned.
*
Roderick returned the next day, just as he promised, interrupting one of my many rants. “Having an interesting conversation?”
“Oh yeah, he's got some pretty wild stories,” I joked tensely, trying to at least seem like my parents’ selling me hadn’t affected me.
Roderick forced a smile. “I'm sure he does, and you, my dear, are going to get him to tell them to me.”
I looked over at the Sandman. “What do you think? Should we include big, bad Roderick in on storytime?” Silence, but not without a flash of amusement. I clicked my tongue and looked back up at Roderick's sneer. “Sorry, he thinks you're a bit of an ass.”
“I see why your father was so willing to pawn you off,” he retorted. “You are quite an unlawful little thing.”
Ignoring the sting of his words, I shrugged my shoulders. “It's one of my many gifts.”
He passed me, staring into the glass. “Have you considered my offer?”
The Sandman was silent still, but not without an offended look that made it apparent to me that Roderick’s so-called offer was little more than an insult to the god.
“Speak to me!” Roderick yelled, hitting the glass with his cane. “Speak, damn you!”
The Sandman didn't even flinch, just stared ahead.
Roderick growled and turned, unlocking the chain that bound me before grabbing me by the hair and pulling me with him. He pushed, pressing me right up against the glass, face to face with The Sandman. A knife, pulled from Roderick’s cane, dug into the side of my neck as the Sandman met Roderick's eyes, the stars within them fading in a sea of darkness.
“Speak. To. Me,” he said, voice ragged and desperate. “Or I'll carve her up till there's nothing left.”
Those black eyes shifted to mine. Don't, I thought, as if he'd hear me. Don't you dare. I hoped my eyes were enough to convey the message as the blade dug deeper. I clenched my jaw to hold in the pained scream, and Roderick dragged it down my neck, leaving a long cut oozing with crimson in its wake.
"SPEAK TO ME!!!" He roared, cutting another section of my flesh, followed by another and another until he finally threw me into the pillar and forced the chain back onto my wrist, letting me slump to the ground. He turned and stomped up the stairs, cursing and yelling.
I pressed a shaking hand to the cuts that now decorated my collarbone, eyes hazy with tears, staring down at the blood staining my skin. After a moment of silence, a moment filled with the burning gaze of the Sandman’s eyes on my back, I moved to sit with my head against the stone. I silently tore a piece of fabric from the bottom of my dress and pressed it into my bleeding shoulder. “Don't give him what he wants. Not ever. I don’t care what he does to me. I… I’ve got nothing left to lose.”
Looking up into his dark eyes, I felt that now-familiar tug of emotion and held back tears. “You don't give him an inch, you got that, Sandy? Not one inch.”
His eyes held resistance in them, and I could practically feel an argument on the tip of his tongue, but after a moment, the stars returned, carrying the silent agreement in them. Not an inch.
I smiled, tiredly looking at him with a sigh. “Guess I should get used to you, huh? It looks like we'll be here for a while.”
A feeling of contentment warmed my chest as I looked deep into his eyes. He was otherworldly, and I found it hard to look at him for too long without getting lost in his otherness. In the quiet moments like this, where it seemed like just me and him, I found my thoughts wandering to all those impossibilities he presented. That list of questions replayed in my mind until only one remained. Does he have a real name?
With that one question, a realization hit me that I’d never even told him who I was. A quiet laugh escaped me as I thought about what his internal monologue must’ve sounded like, calling me girl or maybe even it.
The Sandman’s head tilted, a silent question of his own.
“My name,” I said lamely, “I just realized I never gave it to you. I… I’m Penelope.”
*
Morpheus watched her eyes drift shut, lulled into another dreamless sleep either by the exhaustion or blood loss, he couldn’t tell. Usually, he would detest these moments of quiet, reminded by her lack of dreams just how trapped he was - how trapped they both were. And though he’d never admit it, in the silence that came with the loss of her ramblings, he found himself missing the sound of her voice. Tonight, however, after everything that had transpired, he was simply glad she found some peace.
Penelope.
Her name echoed in his mind, resonating somewhere deep within him - a place he’d thought had long withered away. With that single word, that sacred name, Morpheus felt… Different. It was as though he’d finally received the answer to a question his soul had been asking since the beginning of his very existence. It was as if knowing her name suddenly changed everything.
Penelope.
From within his prison, his thoughts raced for an explanation - an excuse - that would banish this mortal girl and all that came with her from his existence. His soul was a fickle beast, a complex knot woven into existence by his hand alone. There was no bond, ancient or otherwise, that could exist so deeply within him without his say or his knowledge.
Penelope.
The excuse came as a simple fact, a law as old and as harsh as he was. The lives of the Endless and the lives of mortals can never mix. Even if this was no ruse concocted by his captors - even if she was exactly who, what, she appeared to be… She was not his, and he could not be hers.
Penelope.
