Chapter Text
Pain
It’s the only thing Dream can feel anymore. Sometimes if he’s lucky enough, he’ll be so drained mentally, emotionally, and physically that he’ll become completely numb and finally free from the pain for a few hours.
It’s an odd feeling, but is his only source of comfort now. He spends his days praying for those short increments of freedom from the anguish that was his life.
Quackity never left his cell. He left physically each night, but the echoes of his laughter and the pain from the injuries he inflicted kept his presence ever there with Dream. Not even in sleep was he free from his torment.
Dream hardly ever thinks about the outside world anymore. All hope of being rescued or helped was shattered after a few months of Quackity’s visits. Thoughts of past family and friends wiped from his mind to make way for the pain that took over all of his senses and thoughts.
It’s been little more than a year, and his last bits of sanity are waning. He barely has the energy to even open his eyes anymore.
But today is a good day for him. Today, Dream’s numb.
And although he enjoys his rare moments of numbness, Quackity does not. He hates being ignored.
It was just his luck that during this blessed bout of numbness, Quackity paid his daily visit. And he was not happy.
“Get the f*** up” Quackity barked, kicking Dream's leg.
No response.
“You better get the f*** up right now or I’m breaking your f***ing collar bone.”
No response.
“GET UP!” Quackity shrieked, before kicking Dream in the stomach, hard.
Dream jerked forward but beside that he hardly even blinked.
“I am not in the mood for your bull right now Dream. If you don’t get up right now I’m making these next few hours a living hell.”
Still no response.
A maniacal grin spreads across Quackity’s face, “Very well, have it your way.”
That was the only warning he gave before slamming the pickaxe into Dream’s femur. The crackle of bone echoed throughout the room causing Quackity’s grin to widen further. He cackled before pulling it out of his leg and ramming it back in, deeper.
He looked at Dream’s face to gage his reaction and when he saw the same blank expression from before the grin slid off his face to be replaced by one of utter rage.
He pulled the pickaxe out of his leg once more to slam it into Dream’s other thigh. Alternating between his legs until they were nothing but a gory, bloody mess. Once he grew tired of his legs he moved to Dream’s arms continuing in the same way. Once his arms are in a similar condition as his legs, he once again looks back at Dream's face.
It’s still completely blank, almost as if he’s fallen asleep with his eyes open.
Quackity lets out a cry of rage before slamming the pickaxe into Dream’s stomach, chest heaving. He pauses there for a moment before looking down when he feels something wet on his leg.
Blood, lots of it.
Quackity yanks out the pickaxe before pulling out a few healing potions, pouring them on Dream with little care and stomping away, still too blinded by rage to truly assess the damage he wrought.
The lava falls back down behind him, leaving a bloody and wrecked but mercifully numb Dream alone in an ever growing pool of blood.
And there Dream remained, feeling the life slowly drain out of him. He didn’t know how he did, but he knew this was it, his last canon life. Despite knowing this was the end he still couldn’t get himself to feel anything like remorse or sadness. He didn’t picture his family or loved ones, he didn’t look back on his life and decisions, wondering where it all went wrong. Dream just continued to stare at the cold, dark ceiling of the cell. Feeling his eyelids grow heavier and his breathing more labored.
He laid on the floor unfeeling, and there he remained until he breathed his last ragged breath.
<Dream was slain by Quackity>