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Bill looked down at his little brother lying in his arms.
“Juh-Gerogie?” Bill stuttered.
George’s arm was missing. He just lay lifeless.
Bill shook him slightly. “Georgie!” He called out frantically, but George didn’t move. He tried to feel for a pulse, but couldn’t find one. “Suh-suh-someone, help!” He looked around for anyone, but to his horror, not only was there no one there, but there wasn’t anything there. He was in a completely dark room, alone with his dead brother.
He looked back down at Georgie, and jumped. Georgies once closed eyes, now looked up at him. “Georgie?” He called down to him.
Instead of responding, George smiled. Not the endearing smile Bill remembered him for, but a haunting smile. The smile was unnaturally wide, and Bill could see that he had rows of pointed teeth.
Bill stumbled back, knocking his brother off his lap. George slowly sat up and looked Bill in the eyes. Bill saw that he didn’t have the dazzling blue eyes he once did, in fact, he didn’t even have two eyes intact. One eye hung out of its socket, behind it a maggot crawled around his vacant skull. The other eye was a glowing amber yellow.
“Oh, Billy.” It croaked. It was using Georgies voice, but not quite right, it had a certain rasp behind it that Bill had never heard. “Why did you kill me, Bill?”
“Georgie! I duh-duh-duh- I didn’t muh-mean to! I s-s-swear, I wuh-wuh-wuh-”
It began to laugh. It laughed, but it wasn’t Bill’s brother's laugh. It laughed for a while, then, slowly, It began to sob. It put Its head in Its hands, sobbing viciously. Bill just sat there, frozen in place. Then, It looked up. It’s eye was no longer yellow, It’s smile gone. It was Georgie.
“Bill!” He called out. “You need to help me! The clown! It’s got me, Bill! Save me!”
Bill rushed to him, and wrapped him in a hug, his own tears falling. “I’m suh-suh-sorry,” He whispered. “I’m s-so sorry.”
“What now, Bill?” It asked, George leaving Its voice as quick as it came.
Bill still clung on tight. “I duh-don’t know.”
“Maybe in your next life you wont be so fucking useless,” It croaked.
Bill didn’t say anything, and didn’t dare let go. Still clinging onto whatever Georgie he had left. Just then, he felt something sharp press into his neck. It was biting him. It was going to decapitate him. Bill closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate. He squeezed his arms around his “brother” and kept his eyes closed tight, when all of a sudden-
knock knock knock
Bill frantically sat up in his bed, sweating and out of breath. His heart beat madly in his chest. He took a deep shuddering breath. Squinting around his dark room.
knock knock knock
Bill jumped and clutched his chest. He looked over to the window where the sound had come from and, with much relief, saw his boyfriend on the other side. He turned on his lamp and ran over to open the window.
“Stan! What are you d-d-doing here?” Bill glanced at the clock, it read 2:43 am.
Stan started to climb through the window. “Nightmare,” he looked over Bill’s face, now standing in his bedroom. “You don’t look too hot yourself.”
Bill wiped away any lingering tears and chuckled softly. “Nuh-nightmare.”
Stan smiled knowingly, then climbed into Bill's bed. “Mind if I sleep here?”
“Pfft,” Bill scoffed. “Duh.”
After a short pause, Stan asked, “want to talk about it?”
Bill shrugged. “Nuh-not particularly.” Bill didn’t usually share his dreams with the other losers, even if they all liked to. Stan always asked anyway. “How a-a-about you?”
Stan sighed slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe later.”
Bill nodded and walked over to his dresser, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the top drawer. Then he walked over to his nightstand and grabbed his Zippo. He didn’t offer Stan a cigarette. He was never a smoker. He stood by the open window and tried to light his cigarette.
“I just wish I could go a week without nightmares, you know?” Stan started. “I’m so sick of being afraid to go to sleep. And on top of everything-” he paused for a moment, looking at Bill softly. “Bill, are you okay?”
Bill was looking down at his lighter with a frustrated look on his face. His hands were trembling so badly that he couldn’t get the zippo to light. He laughed shakily. “Guess this duh-dream ruh-ruh-really shook me uh-up. Luh-luh-lend me a huh-hand?”
Stan took the lighter from his hand, then held it back out to him, now lit. Bill dipped his cigarette in the flame, then immediately took a long drag. Stan closed the zippo and put it back in its usual place on the nightstand.
Stan smiled uneasily at him. “I would give you the usual spiel on how smoking is going to give you cancer, but I’ll let you off the hook tonight. Looks like you need it.”
Bill held his cigarette with his, still shaking, hand, and smiled at his boyfriend. “Gee, thanks St-Stan,” he said sarcastically.
They fell into a comfortable, familiar silence as Bill smoked his cigarette. A shiver traveled up his spine as he remembered the contents of his dream.
Maybe in your next life you wont be so fucking useless
He shook his head. Stan was here, he was safe now. Still, thoughts of the rotting Georgie spun circles in his mind. Georgie was often the subject of his dreams, but this one really put Bill on edge. So on edge, that the cigarette wasn’t really doing much to calm him like they usually did. He thought for a moment of the rum he knew was down in the top kitchen counter, but then thought of Stan. Stan already wasn’t a fan of Bill’s smoking, and Bill doubted he would be thrilled if he found out Bill did some drinking outside of parties and such. Plus, he knew he should probably stop turning to substances for all his problems.
He put out his cigarette, then grabbed another one out of the pack.
“Hey,” Stan said, softley.
Bill turned around to see Stan sitting up in his bed, a sympathetic look on his face.
“Just come to bed, will you?”
Bill paused for a moment, then put the cigarette back into its pack. He climbed into bed and poked Stan’s arm. “Yuh-you make it suh-suh-suh-sound like we're a muh-married couple.
Stan shoved Bill lightly in return. “You wish.”
Bill was about to think of something funny to say back, but his breath caught in his chest when he saw tears in Stan's eyes.
“Stan?” He questioned, softley. “What’s uh-up?”
Stan wiped his tears with his palm and laughed quietly. “Nothing, really. I just keep having shitty dreams, you know?” Bill nodded. “But seeing you always makes everything feel better. I don’t know how you do it.”
Bill cocked his head and smiled at Stan. He reached up and wiped more tears off Stan's face, only vaguely aware of his own tears.
Stan looked up at him while Bill gently stroked his face. “What about you?” he asked.
“Hm?” Bill questioned.
“What are your tears for?”
Bill smiled sadly. “Juh-just thinking how sc-scared I am of luh-losing you.”
Stan smiled back at Bill. “Don’t say that, Bill. You won't lose me, okay?”
“Okay. I luh-love you.”
“I love you too.”
They laid down together, Bill’s head on Stan’s shoulder. “Yuh-you want to tuh-tuh-tuh-talk about it? Your d-dream?”
“Mmm. Maybe tomorrow. I’m too tired to talk about it now,” Stan said, tiredly.
Bill listened to the sound of Stan’s heart beating as he tried his best to fall asleep. He was still slightly uneasy with the fear that another nightmare might occur, but he felt a certain comfort knowing Stan would be here if he woke up.